She was something quite unusual for her time, a sort of solo dancer, the only one in the closest circle of friends. There was something nymph like and evasive in her dance, something fantastical and magical which simply stunned the audience.
... her body found unlimited ways of expressing itself in the subdued, almost everyday like rhythm [...]. At first glance, her arms did seem to be motionlessly connected to her body. With one movement, full of promise, she spread them out, let them fly through the air and lifted them up over her head. In her hands, there were flower wreaths. Like a vestal virgin, she strode towards the temple, like an Eurydice, she glided into the night, like a Judith, she stole down to the tent of Holofernes. The finely shaped head rocked like a little boat and disappeared into mist. Inside the mist, her face lighted up with phosphorescent light...
Never before in my life had I seen anything like her dance. She was as slender as a reed and just as supple. She rested in the men's arms as light as a cloud [...]. One could not help but think of a flower, when one saw how proudly she carried her little, beautiful head on the erect and shapely neck.