PASTEL]

The dancers go much further still in the expression of Degas's
temperament. They have been studied at the _foyer_ of the Opera and at
the rehearsal, sometimes in groups, sometimes isolated. Some pictures
which will always count among the masterpieces of the nineteenth
century, represent the whole _corps de ballet_ performing on the stage
before a dark and empty house. By the feeble light of some lamps the
black coats of the stage managers mix themselves with the gauze skirts.
Here the draughtsman joins the great colourist: the petticoats of pink
or white tulle, the graceful legs covered with flesh-coloured silk, the
arms and the shoulders, and the hair crowned with flowers, offer
motives of exquisite colour and of a tone of living flowers. But the
psychologist does not lose his rights: not only does he amuse himself
with noting the special movements of the dancers, but he also notes the
anatomical defects. He shows with cruel frankness, with a strange love
of modern character, the strong legs, the thin shoulders, and the
provoking and vulgar heads of these frequently ugly girls of common
origin. With the irony of an entomologist piercing the coloured insect
he shows us the disenchanting reality in the sad shadow of the scenes,
of these butterflies who dazzle us on the stage. He unveils the reverse
side of a dream without, however, caricaturing; he raises even, under
the imperfection of the bodies, the animal grace of the organisms; he
has the severe beauty of the true. He gives to his groups of
ballet-dancers the charming line of garlands and restores to them a
harmony in the _ensemble_, so as to prove that he does not misjudge the
charm conferred upon them by rhythm, however defective they may be
individually. At other times he devotes himself to the study of their
practice. In bare rooms with curtainless windows, in the cold and sad
light of the boxes, he passionately draws the dancers learning their
steps, reaching high bars with the tips of their toes, forcing
themselves into quaint poses in order to make themselves more supple,
manoeuvring to the sound of a fiddle scratched by an old teacher--and he
leaves us stupefied at the knowledge, the observation, the talent
profusely spent on these little pictures. Furthermore there are humorous
scenes: ballet-dancers chatting in the dark with _habitues_ of the
Opera, others looking at the house through the small opening of the
curtain, others re-tying their shoe-la