As they crossed the floor, Esmeralda found herself being introduced again and again. Everyone in the café seemed to consider Maksim a close friend. At last, they reached the three mice who had waved, and Esmeralda learned that their names were Dmitri, Igor, and Nadya. The first two were brothers, close in age to Maksim. “We grew up together,” Maksim explained.
As for Nadya, she was Igor and Dmitri’s aunt, and everyone, including Maksim, called her Auntie Nadya. When Maksim introduced Esmeralda as a dancer in the Russian Mouse Ballet Company, Nadya drew Esmeralda over to sit with her. “A ballerina from the Mariinsky! But I don’t recognize you . . .”
“I’m new to the corps de ballet,” Esmeralda explained. “But I do have a part in our next production — a new ballet with music by Tchaikovsky.”
“We love Tchaikovsky!” said Nadya. “The music for The Sleeping Beauty was beautiful.”
The music for The Nutcracker would be beautiful as well, thought Esmeralda. But what about everything else? Without sets and costumes, the mouse production might seem drab to these sophisticated balletomanes.
“But tell me — how do you know our dear Maksim?” said Nadya.
“He rescued me from some rats,” said Esmeralda.
“Nonsense!” said Maksim. “You were handling those bullies very well before I came along. It was the peppermint that nearly did you in.”
Maksim told everyone what had happened. He added, “I think Esmeralda will feel better if she eats something.”
Nadya said, “You poor thing! You must be starving! We have plenty of food. Do you like cheese?”
Esmeralda couldn’t remember her last meal that wasn’t lard and bread. She took the piece of cheese Dmitri broke off for her and thanked him.
Between bites, she asked Nadya questions: Had she seen both productions of The Sleeping Beauty? And what had she thought of them — particularly the mouse production?
“Oh, yes, Dmitri and Igor and I saw both productions. Such a beautiful story — so romantic. The human production was splendid! The costumes were so colorful. And the sets — I really felt as if I were looking at a real castle!”
“The mouse production didn’t have costumes or sets. I suppose that must have been . . . disappointing?” Esmeralda’s voice rose in a question.
Igor spoke up then. “Disappointing isn’t exactly the word I’d use. Why, Dmitri fell asleep in the second act —”
“I did not!” Dmitri protested.
Igor shrugged. “All right. Maybe I was the one who fell asleep!”
“Please forgive my nephew, Esmeralda,” said Nadya. “We liked the mouse production very much.”
Dmitri added, “It was . . . well, different from the human production.”
Different, and not in a good way, thought Esmeralda. For all that Nadya and Dmitri were trying to be kind, she could tell they hadn’t liked the mouse production as much as the human one.
Nadya said, “Prince Désiré was outstanding.”
“That was Conrad. He’s my cousin.”
Nadya brightened. “Such a fine dancer — and so handsome! If I’m not mistaken, he is related to the great Medora.”
“She was our grandmother,” said Esmeralda.
“Conrad’s the best dancer in the company,” Dmitri declared.
“Not like that other one — what’s her name? — Fleur de Lys,” said Igor. He was shorter and stouter than his brother. He also smiled less often.
“She has good technique!” argued Dmitri.
“But the feeling! The emotion! Where is it? I tell you, the Russian Mouse Ballet Company isn’t what it used to be. You’ve said it yourself, Auntie!” said his brother.
Nadya frowned at Igor. So did Dmitri and Maksim.
“You’re too critical, Nephew,” Nadya chided. She turned to Esmeralda. “We can’t wait to see you dance at the Mariinsky, my dear.”
“Speaking of dancing,” said Maksim, nodding toward something behind Nadya.
Esmeralda turned and saw that the crowd of mice was moving back, leaving a large space on the floor. Nadya gently pulled Esmeralda back as well. “Time for some fun!” she said.
Music often made Esmeralda think of a conversation. One instrument or instruments would say something, and another instrument or instruments would respond. Sometimes the instruments would talk over and around one another until coming into agreement at the end of a song. And sometimes — and this was one of the reasons Esmeralda loved to dance — the instruments seemed to tell a story.
The balalaikas being plucked and strummed by the musicians in the orchestra upstairs were cheery conversationalists. They had been getting along well all evening, like friends telling one another amusing tales. Now, as they began a new tune, they seemed to become aware that they had other listeners. “So, you’ve noticed us!” the balalaikas seemed to say. “Well, then, pay attention!”
A murmur of approval ran through the café. “I love this song!” Maksim exclaimed.
Esmeralda liked it, too. Just now, the tune was slow. And yet, there was something in the music that said, “Just you wait!” Indeed, the dancers were not waiting. They crowded onto the floor, forming couples and bowing to each other as the balalaikas played a succession of stately chords. Nadya said, “You and Maksim should dance, Esmeralda.”
“Oh, no!” said Esmeralda. “I mean — I don’t feel quite well enough. But Maksim should dance.” She could tell that the music was tugging at him. She knew exactly how that felt.
Nadya said, “Igor! Dmitri! Get up and dance with Maksim. Esmeralda and I will watch and enjoy.”
Maksim allowed Igor and Dmitri to pull him onto the floor. The balalaikas seemed to have been waiting for them, for the music slowed — the notes hanging in the air as the three friends took their places. And then, suddenly, with the clash of a tambourine, the music took off like a rabbit sprinting across a meadow.
Faster and faster the balalaikas played. Faster and faster, until the dancers struggled to keep up. More and more dropped out until there were only three mice on the floor. The crowd cheered as Maksim, Dmitri, and Igor leaped and cavorted. First Maksim jumped into the air, turning one and a half times around before landing. Then Igor, and then Dmitri, and then Maksim again. The dance was a contest in which the friends tried to outperform one another with daring, acrobatic feats. Then, suddenly, each mouse dropped to a crouch, raised his arms, and began to kick his legs in time to the music.
Esmeralda looked around. The audience was having as much fun as the dancers — clapping and cheering and laughing. And now Maksim, Igor, and Dmitri were standing and spinning in unison. Their tails spun around them, forming hoops around their legs as the music grew louder still. Then, when it seemed impossible that they could continue, Dmitri leaped over Igor, Igor leaped over Maksim, and Maksim leaped over Dmitri, somersaulting in the air. He landed on one foot, just as the music came to a crashing conclusion.
The crowd roared its approval.
The three dancers fell to the floor, laughing and gasping for breath.
Nadya said, “What do you think?”
“I loved it!” Esmeralda exclaimed. “I’ve never seen anything so fast! We never dance like that at the Mariinsky!”
Nadya laughed. “I should think not!”
Maksim picked himself up and came over. He said, “Not exactly ballet, is it!”
“No!” said Esmeralda. “You were wonderful!” Almost as soon as she said these last words, she felt shy. Suppose Maksim should guess just how wonderful she thought he was!
If he did, he didn’t let on. Maksim waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, it’s just the way mice dance.” Still, Esmeralda could tell he was pleased by her compliment.
His friends joined them. Dmitri said, “I’m sure you and your friends in the ballet company will show us a thing or two when we come to see The Nutcracker, Esmeralda!”
“I don’t know about that!” Esmeralda thought about all the problems she had with her tail. She thought also of Igor’s critic
ism of the Russian Mouse Ballet Company . . . asking where the feeling and emotion were. Why, the best dancers in the company didn’t come anywhere close to showing the unbridled enthusiasm she had just witnessed here at the Balalaika Café. If the Saint Petersburg balletomanes were used to this type of dancing, how could the Russian Mouse Ballet Company hope to hold their interest?
Maksim misinterpreted her look of concern. He said, “Are you tired, Esmeralda?”
Nadya clucked her tongue. “Of course she is tired. From what I’ve heard, the dancers at the Mariinsky sleep at night so they can practice during the day. You must take her home, Maksim.”
“I don’t want to be a bother!” said Esmeralda.
“It’s no bother,” said Maksim. “If we leave now, I can get you back to the theater before dawn. And no carriage wheels this time. But you have to promise one thing, Esmeralda!”
“Yes?”
“The next time you come to the café, you must dance for us.”
Maksim’s smile made Esmeralda forget her worries about The Nutcracker. “I promise!” she said.
OF ALL THE DANCES in The Nutcracker, the one Irina liked best was the solo variation that would be performed in the second act by the Sugar Plum Fairy. Monsieur Drigo, the Mariinsky’s orchestra conductor, had let Irina play a few notes on the celesta, the keyboard instrument that would play the melody for the dance. The word celesta, Monsieur Drigo told her, came from the French word for “heavenly,” but the delicate notes Irina played sounded more magical than heavenly. She could not help but think of the dancing mouse.
For more than a week now, Irina had been leaving food for the mouse. First, she had hidden Yuri Petrovich’s spice cookie under the cupboard where she had seen the dancing mouse — the mouse cupboard, as she had come to think of it. The next morning, the cookie was gone. After that, Irina had left other food under the same cupboard — bread, mostly. The bread was always gone when she checked later.
Did that mean the dancing mouse was enjoying the treats? If only Irina could know for sure!
Then, one afternoon, something wonderful happened. Or rather, two wonderful things. And, quite possibly, a third.
The first wonderful thing was that Antonietta dell’Era, the Italian ballerina who would dance the role of the Sugar Plum Fairy, came to the costume department for a fitting, and Irina got to meet her in person.
Mama was in charge of making the Sugar Plum Fairy costume. She pinned and repinned the bodice, and Mademoiselle dell’Era had to be patient and stand on a stool with her arms out to the side. “You are very good, Madame,” the ballerina commented. “I cannot tell you how often seamstresses have stuck pins into me!”
“Thank you, Mademoiselle,” said Mama.
They were speaking in French. The ballerina spoke with an Italian accent. Mademoiselle dell’Era asked, “Does your daughter speak French as well?”
“Yes, Mademoiselle. My mother was French, and my husband also speaks the language. Irina is fluent.”
“Ah, yes? And let me guess: she wants to be a dancer when she grows up.” Mademoiselle dell’Era smiled at Irina.
Mama laughed. “Well, she might dream of it. What little girl could not dream of such a life here at the Mariinsky? But to tell you the truth, I think she will be a dress designer.”
When it came to her daughter’s talent for sewing, Mama was unable to mask her pride. She said, “Irina, show Mademoiselle dell’Era the dress you have made for your doll!”
Irina reached into her pocket and brought out Lyudmila.
“Oh! See how tiny she is!” said Mademoiselle dell’Era. “May I hold her?”
Irina placed the doll in the ballerina’s palm.
“Look at her dress! The lace! The beading! Did you really make this?”
“Yes, Mademoiselle!”
“She has made dozens of little dresses for her doll,” said Mama.
“How does she do it?”
Irina took the dress off Lyudmila and described her method. “You cut a circle of cloth. You cut holes for the head and the arms, stitch the hem, and sew on lace and beads.” She put the dress back on Lyudmila. “You use a ribbon sash to gather up the cloth — like this.”
“How clever! Your doll is a little ballerina, isn’t she?”
“Yes, Mademoiselle,” said Irina, adding, because it seemed the polite thing to say, and also because it was true, “but Lyudmila isn’t a prima ballerina like you.”
The second wonderful thing was that when the fitting was over, Mademoiselle dell’Era invited Irina to see her dressing room. “I am always receiving chocolates from my admirers. You may have one, if you like.”
“May I go, Mama?”
“Yes, my dear.” Feeling proud of her daughter always brought out Mama’s indulgent side. “But hurry back and don’t bother Mademoiselle dell’Era all afternoon.”
Irina was so excited that she forgot to put Lyudmila back in her pocket. She only remembered her doll when she returned from the dressing room, having eaten not one but two chocolates and with two more wrapped up in a bit of paper for Mama and Papa.
“Where’s Lyudmila?” she asked.
“You left her on the table. I laid her on top of my sewing basket.”
The sewing basket was sitting on the floor, its lid shut tight. Lyudmila was not on top of the basket. Nor was she inside it. Irina said, “She’s gone!”
Mama said, “She must have fallen. Get down and look on the floor.”
Lyudmila was lying under the mouse cupboard. “Here she is — but her dress is gone!” Irina exclaimed.
“You took it off to show Mademoiselle dell’Era.”
“I put it back on!”
“Then it must be here.”
But the dress was missing. Mama said, “Never mind. You can put clothes on Lyudmila when you get home. After all, you have a box full of doll dresses.”
“But someone has taken her dress!”
“Nonsense! Who would take it?”
And that was the third wonderful thing: Irina thought she knew.
THE DRESS FIT PERFECTLY. Esmeralda tied the sash, then turned it so the bow was in the back, as it had been on the doll. She raised herself up on her toes and spun around, watching the skirt lift up like a cloud. Even in the dim light under the cupboard, the beads sparkled.
She stopped midturn. She had stolen a dress from a human girl — the very same girl who had caught her dancing before. Of course, it was wrong to steal, but Esmeralda couldn’t allow herself to feel guilty. All she could think of was what Irina’s mother had said: You have a box full of doll dresses. . . .
“A box full of doll dresses means a box full of costumes for The Nutcracker!” Esmeralda told Maksim that evening.
“Only if you can get them from that girl’s house,” he said.
They were at the Balalaika Café, sitting with Nadya, Igor, and Dmitri. It was Esmeralda’s first time back since her initial visit, more than a week ago now. She hadn’t expected to be back again so soon, but Maksim had shown up at the Mariinsky not two days after meeting Esmeralda, bringing savory treats for supper and regaling her brother and Conrad with colorful stories about his life in Saint Petersburg. At the end of the evening, Maksim had invited her to come dancing. “Some night when you’re not on scrounge patrol,” he had suggested.
Tonight was that night, and Esmeralda had already told Maksim how worried she was about The Nutcracker and the future of the Russian Mouse Ballet Company. Now she told everyone about a plan she had concocted. “Irina — she’s the human girl I told you about, Maksim — is the daughter of the chief custodian. Irina doesn’t come to the Mariinsky every day, but her father does, and he puts his coat in the cloakroom. I’ll climb into the hem and —”
“What is a hem?” asked Dmitri.
“Well, it’s like a tunnel at the bottom of a coat — just the right size for a mouse. I’ll ride to Irina’s house in the coat hem, wait until she goes to sleep, and gather up the dresses. I’ll bring them back to the Mari
insky in the coat hem when her father comes to work the next morning.”
“What if there’s a dog or a cat?” asked Maksim.
Esmeralda frowned. She was proud of her plan, but she hadn’t thought of dogs and cats.
Maksim said, “I think I’d better come with you.”
“Oh, I couldn’t ask you to —”
“I can help you. I’m good with dogs and cats.”
Before she could say more, Igor spoke up. “It’s going to take more than costumes to help The Nutcracker! They’re saying mice are killed in the new ballet.”
A prickle of alarm shot through Esmeralda. Was Franz spreading rumors, as Conrad had feared? She said quickly, “They aren’t really killed.”
“Of course they aren’t!” Nadya’s voice was soothing.
Igor went on. “You’re supposed to believe they’re killed, and you’re supposed to feel happy about it, too. They say the mice in the ballet are villains. On top of all that, there’s no romance in The Nutcracker.” He took a bite of cheese. He chewed it vigorously, swallowed, and added, “The fact is, nobody wants to see this new ballet — not the human production or the mouse production. Costumes aren’t going to change that!”
Igor tossed the last bit of cheese into his mouth. Only then did he notice that his aunt was glaring at him.
“Really, Igor!” said Nadya. “The things you say! We want to see The Nutcracker!”
Her nephew blinked in surprise. “I’m only saying what other mice are saying —”
“Hey!” Maksim said brightly. “This is a good song the orchestra’s playing. How about we dance?”
Feeling numb, Esmeralda followed him onto the dance floor. All of Conrad’s fears for The Nutcracker had come true: the city’s most devoted balletomanes didn’t want to see the new production. How foolish she was to think that costumes alone would solve the problem!
As it always did, the music chased away Esmeralda’s worries. The tune was sprightly, and she was able to follow Maksim’s lead without difficulty. She danced the way he did — not the way she did when she was at the Mariinsky, but the way all the mice danced here at the café — letting her tail move with her. She twirled three times to the left, then twirled three times to the right, and then clasped hands with Maksim, hopping from one foot to the other while crossing the floor. Maksim’s tail whipped back and forth with each hop, and Esmeralda let hers do the same. All around them, couples were dancing together. It was, Esmeralda thought, just a little romantic.
The Nutcracker Mice Page 4
