Misseldine bourrées to the center stage facing forward and raises her arms up as if in surrender. When she goes down onto a knee, she bends back with a deep stretch. Through the course of the variation, her energy ebbs and flows—at times, she has a surge of energy before she’s pulled back into the course of movement. When she looks under an arm (or a wing), she displays a heartbreaking bashfulness. The most beautiful moment in the piece is a bourrée straight forward with her back to the audience; she raises her arms and arches her torso, lifting her throat to the ceiling. 

Fokine’s choreography is simple, yet effective—reliant more on small mannerisms than sweeping climaxes of movement. There are some moments of intentional awkwardness; after the performance, Fokine works with Misseldine on getting the alignment of a raised shoulder just right. It’s a posture you’d see more in a shy child than a prima ballerina. That is entirely the point.

This is what Fokine’s grandfather envisioned, back when he first improvised the solo in the studio with Pavlova in 1905. It’s a work replete with self-soothing and denial, followed, ultimately, by acceptance; the story is not a fantasy or fairy tale, but something universal.

Misseldine had just six rehearsals to get it right—this open preview being the sixth. For a young dancer already so revered for her gorgeous lines and sharp technique, this slower pace gives her the opportunity to push deeper as an artist. It’s thrilling to watch the past meet the present, this time, with preservation as a priority.