I Have A New Ballet Performance!

I have a new ballet performance TONIGHT!!!

My group and I danced a Spanish Dolls number in my ballet school, STEPS' 17th Dance Concert at the CCP this evening. We all prepared a lot for this. Here is how I looked before our performance:



Our dance was taken from the story of Coppelia: The Girl with the Enamel Eyes. I typed the whole story of Coppelia here! I TYPED IT MYSELF for many days and weeks before I was able to post it here!!! :)

Okay, so here is the story as taken from my book, "The Barefoot Book of Ballet Stories" by Jane Yolen and Heidi E.Y. Strempl


Coppelia
The Girl with the Enamel Eyes

ONCE, IN A TOWN IN OLD GALICIA, there dwelt a mysterious old man name Dr. Coppelius, who lived in a small, dark house. In all the windows and around the balcony on the first floor, deep green curtains were drawn tight against summer of winter, sunshine or rain. It was as if the house and Dr. Coppelius himself were allergic to daylight.

The people in town gossiped about the old man all the time. They said he was a magician, a sorcerer, an alchemist. But no one actually knew what he did. What they said were all rumors, guesses, lies.

Now one day, Dr. Coppelius limped out of his house, walking unsteadily with a cane. Reaching the center of the town square, he turned and looked up at the balcony of his house. There, the curtains were drawn back to reveal a lovely girl with long blonde braids sitting in a chair, reading a book. This was the first time she'd ever shown herself. Indeed, this was the first time the deep green curtains had ever been opened.

"Coppelia!" he cried out. "My lovely daughter!" He waved. Wrapped up in her book, Coppelia seemed not to notice him.

Strangely, Dr. Coppelius was not concerned by her lack of notice. He just rubbed his hands together, as if well satisfied, then when back into the dark house.

But someone else had noticed the girl on the balcony and heard the old man calling to her. That someone was Swanilda, a beautiful village girl with long, dark hair. She was so happy because Franz, her young man, had just asked her to marry him. So great was her joy, she wanted to share it with everyone she met, and so she waved at Coppelia on the balcony. But Coppelia never looked up from her book.

Swanilda tried again, and still there was no reaction. "Snob!" she exclaimed. And turned away. Just then she noticed Franz coming up the street. She was about to run to him when she saw that he, too, was waving. But not at her - at Coppelia. Sitting so still, lost in her book.

Furious, jealous, stunned, Swanilda shook her fist at the reading girl. Then she hid behind a fence to see what would happen next. Franz waved at the girl again and then - gasp! - blew her a kiss. At this, Coppelia finally put down her book, looked up, and waved back.

Swanilda's heart fluttered, stuttered, almost stopped. Is this a new flirtation, she wondered in despair. Or has Franz been false all the time?

All at once, old Coppelius appeared by the window leading on to the balcony. As if upset by Franz's attentions to Coppelia, he drew the dark curtains tight shut, hiding his lovely blonde daughter from view.

Weeping, Swanilda ran off toward her own house, certain now that Franz no longer loved her. Heartbroken, she suddenly noticed a butterfly alight on the ground before her. A butterfly! It seemed like some sort of omen. Franz was like a butterfly, all right, flitting to all the bright flowers. He could never resist a pretty face. Swanilda carefully picked up the fragile creature, turned, and ran back up the street toward Dr. Coppelius's house.

Franz was still standing below the balcony, gazing up as if transfixed. Hearing footsteps, he looked around and saw Swanilda coming toward him. Quickly pasting a smile of welcome across his face, he turned to her.

Maybe he still loves me, thought Swanilda. She reached out to him, but all he did was take the butterfly from her outstretched hands and pin it to his shirt. Such a cruel gesture, thought Swanilda. He doesn't love me at all!

"How could you act this way!" Swanilda cried.

"What way?" Franz asked, sounding puzzled.

"To flirt with another just after we made our pledge..."

"But I never..."

"You did! I saw you!"

"But Swanilda!" Franz cried. "I love only you"

She broke into weeping. "I saw how much you love me!"

Suddenly, the square, which moments before had been empty with people, filled with all their friends. The young men thumped Franz in the back, the young women kissed Swanilda on the cheeks. "Congratulations! Congratulations!" they cried. "When is the wedding day?"

Franz grinned and tried to hold Swanilda close, but she pulled away. "There is no wedding day," she said.

Her friends thought that a date had not yet been set and their noisy celebrations continued.

"I love you, not her." Franz whispered to Swanilda.

She thought about him waving and blowing a kiss to the girl in the balcony, and what she heard him say was: I love you not.

Just then the burgomaster - the mayor of the town - came into the square. An important-looking man, with an important-looking belly, he held up his hands. "Friends, citizens..." he tried to quiet them.”Children!" he cried hoping to get their attention. At last they listened. "Tomorrow we are to receive a great gift from the lord of manor - a new bell for our clock tower. And a celebration to go with it!"

A real celebration! The square buzzed with excitement. Tomorrow!

The burgomaster held his hands up again - meaty hands, with fingers like sausages. "To go along with the celebration," he cried "His lordship has announced that he will give handsome dowries - bags of gold - to any girls who are married tomorrow."

At this, all the girls gazed longily at their sweethearts, but Swanilda would not catch Franz's eye. Even when the burgomaster gave Swanilda an ear of wheat to shake, and so hear true love's message, all she heard was I love you not. Throwing the wheat to the ground, Swanilda told her horrified friends, "We are no longer engaged. He loves that snob, Coppelia, the sorcerer's daughter."

"Dr. Coppelius has a daughter?" asked one girl in surprise.

"Who would have thought such a bent old stick could have a child!" exclaimed another.

"And Franz is in love with her, not me," Swanilda told them.

"How can you say such a thing?" asked Franz. "I've never spoken to her." But his words lacked conviction.

Night fell, like a dark curtain across the square, and the street suddenly emptied. As empty - Swanilda thought - as my own heart. Twisting a finger through her hair long hair, she went home alone.


~ * ~

Now as it grew dark, Dr. Coppelius left his house again, this time looking about nervously, as if afraid to leave his daughter by herself. He locked his front door, making a big show of it, turning the heavy key three times in the lock. Behind him, the lamplighter had just finished lighting the last of the street lamps and the shadows they cast on the cobblestones danced about like revelers at a party.

Just as Dr. Coppelius was about to drop the key into his pocket, a band of real revelers came by. They have begun the bell celebration early and, circling around the old man, they tried to induce him to join them.

"Leave me be!" he shouted. Shaking his fist at them. He pulled himself away and the key dropped, unnoticed, to the ground, just another shadow on the street.
Not ten minutes later, wanting to cheer her up, some of Swanilda's friends came by with Swanilda, about to take her to dinner. As they walked along the street, Swanilda stepped on the key. Bending down, she picked up the key, and knew at once who it must belong to.

So did her friends.

"Dr. Coppelius's house..." whispered one "The Magic Master!"
"Dare you?" asked another.

"Will you?" added a third.

Swanilda guessed what they really meant. Would she go into the house and confront Coppelius's snobbish daughter, Coppelia?

"Only if you all come with me," she replied.

The girls nodded one at a time. Secretly, they had each wanted to see inside the sorcerer's house anyway. So, hand in hand, they crept up to the front door. Swanilda put the key in the lock. One...two...three times it turned. Then the lock snapped open. The door creaked as she pushed it against it. And... they were in.

Now, no sooner had the girls entered the dark living room, than Franz came into the square carrying a ladder. If Swanilda no longer loves me, he told himself, I shall plead my case to the beautiful Coppelia. Franz was in love with being in love.

He settled the top of the ladder against the balcony and started to climb up.

Just then, back into the square hobbled old Coppelius. Having discovered the key was missing from his pocket, he was hurrying home. But what was this -- a ladder, leaning against his house? Angrily, he shook it until Franz fell off. Then he hit the poor lovesick boy with his cane until Franz had to run off to avoid being beaten to death.

Mumbling to himself, the old man went to his front door. To his horror, he found it standing wide open. In he went into the living room, his cane raised in front of him.

Meanwhile, Franz crept back to the square and, seeing the coast was clear, set the top of the ladder once more against the balcony and started up again.

But what of the group of girls led by Swanilda? When they’d first entered the darkened living room, they had lit a candle, which threw a flickering light around the room.

“Who is this?” Swanilda exclaimed, startled to find the room filled with people. The girls bunched together to stare at the figures around them. Some were sitting, some standing, some bent over, hands nearly touching the floor.

“Out! We must get out!” cried one girl. Another started whimpering and a third burst into tears.

“Be quiet!” Swanilda commanded. “Look at them.” She pointed to one after another of the figures around them.

“I don’t want to look,” said the whimperer, her hands covering her face.

“None of us do,” echoed the other girls.

“But see, they are not moving. Not moving and not breathing.” Swanilda put her hands on her hips and laughed out loud. “They are just dolls,” she said to her friends. “The old man plays with life-sized dolls!”

Indeed, they were just dolls. But what odd characters. A Chinese gentleman in golden robes was perched on a stool. A clown in patches stood bent over from the waist. A knight in shining armor held his sword raised above his head. And there were others, too, all in different costumes and poses. The girls went from one to another, no longer afraid.

Then Swanilda found the curtain that closed off the balcony. Opening it slightly, she discovered the most astonishing thing of all. Siting in a wheeled chair behind the curtain, book in hand, was Coppelia, the old man’s snobbish daughter, her blonde hair slightly askew.

Daughter! She, too, was a doll! Franz is in love with a doll! Swanilda giggled to herself.

Just then, one of the girls accidentally collided with the Chinese gentleman and he began to move, nodding his head and throwing out his hands. The girls giggled.

“Moving dolls!” Swanilda suddenly remembered Coppelia waving at Franz.
The girls repeated it to one another: “Moving dolls!”

“Let them all move then,” commanded Swanilda.

One by one, the dolls were set in motion, though none of the girls could figure out how to start Coppelia. Beautiful and still, she waited patiently in her balcony chair.

All of a sudden, there was a loud cry and in came the old man, his cane held high. “Vandals!” he cried. “Intruders!”

Swanilda quickly blew out the candle and Dr. Coppelius swung his cane around in the dark. This was too much for the girls and they ran screaming from the house. All, that is, Swanilda. Instead of running away, she ducked behind the curtain and hid on the balcony until all her friends had gone.

At last, the old man calmed down and lit one of his lamps. As he walked about looking at his dolls, he spoke aloud with increasing worry. “They have touched my people. They know. They know! But have they touched my daughter? My Coppelia? What a turn. What a turn!” He pulled aside the curtain and walked on to the balcony just as Franz stepped in off the ladder. Grabbing the boy by the ear, he shouted, “You again!”

“Please, sir, please,” Franz said. “ I love your daughter. Her still beauty has touched my heart. Please, sir, I want to speak to her.”

“Speak to her? Ha! What you ask is impossible,” said Dr. Coppelius.

“But if I do not, I will die!” Franz cried, hand over his heart. He had not felt that passion a moment before, but now he was certain of it.

“Nonsense,” Coppelius said. “Boys do not die of love. Come, have a drink and we will talk about this.” Slowly, he drew Franz into the living room.

Franz sat down and looked at the strange figures. He was so fascinated by them that he did not watch as old Coppelius poured an amber-colored liquid into a tumbler and then emptied some powder into it.

Dr. Coppelius brought the drink over and handed it to Franz. “Come, my young friend, Dr.ink up and let us talk about my daughter, Coppelia.”

Thinking the old man was at last warming to him, Franz took a deep Dr.aught of the liquid. “Aaaaah,” he said, for it tasted of apricots and golden grapes and summer. He took another. Sunlight and the wave of barley in a warm wind. Soon Franz grew sleepy. The magical potion had done its work. His eyes closed. He fell fast asleep in the chair, so still in his slumber, he almost looked like one of the old man’s dolls.

“Well, well,” muttered Coppelius. An old idea had come to him, one that he’d never had a chance to try out. But now this meddlesome boy presented the perfect opportunity. He would take Franz’s life force and transfer it to Coppelia. Then she would be his daughter in truth. Rubbing his hands with glee, the old sorcerer went to an ancient cupboard in the corner and unlocked it, taking out a heavy leather-bound book of magic spells.

Opening the book, Dr. Coppelius read avidly for a few minutes, before making the page with dark blue ribbon. Then he went over to the balcony and drew the curtain aside. Coppelia sat, still as always, her book in one hand.

“Soon, my little darling,” the old man whispered, “soon you will have real life!” He wheeled her out into the room then went back to his magic book to read it further. “Yes, yes, I think I have it now.” Then he walked over to Franz and raised his hands over the sleeping boy, appearing to Dr.aw out the life force as if with an invisible magnet. Cupping the life force carefully in his hands, he hobbled over to Coppelia and released it over to her.

To his astonishment and delight, Coppelia suddenly tossed the book to one side, then moved her head and arms in a mechanical fashion. Standing slowly, she began to walk stiff-legged around the room.

“My daughter! My daughter!” Coppelius cried, clapping his hands as Coppelia stiffly poked through drawers and opened cupboards. Then she crossed over to Franz and stood over him. Picking up the cup, she raised it to her lips.

“No! No!” cried Coppelius, striking it from her hand. “What are you doing, child? Why are you acting like this?” He watched aghast as his beloved daughter began to race around the room faster and faster. Throwing pictures from the wall, tossing aside scarves and ornaments, she finally kicked the old man’s magic book to the floor.

“Stop it, Coppelia, stop it!” Coppelius cried. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he forced her to sit again in her chair.

Just then Franz woke up, his head muddled. Clearly the spell had not actually worked. He moaned and the old man turned on him. “Get out!” Coppelius cried. “Get out!”

Eager to escape from the madhouse, Franz headed to the balcony and climbed back down the ladder at top speed.

In a frenzy, Coppelia jumped up, raced around the room, knocking over all the other dolls, then dashed out of the front door.

“What have I done?” cried the old man. He stumbled out to the balcony to catch a glimpse of Coppelia in the square and what did he find there but the body of a naked, wigless doll lying on the floor. “Coppelia!” he cried, clasping her in his arms, suddenly realizing he had been horribly tricked. For it wasn’t Coppelia in the square below but Swanilda, dressed in the doll’s costume and wearing her blonde wig, running after the fleeting Franz.


~ * ~

The next day dawned with pearly skies. The new bell was hoisted up into the tower and beneath it stood the maidens who were to be married, along with their husbands-to-be. In that group stood Franz, hand in hand with Swanilda, for he now knew it had been she who had rescued him from the wicked Coppelius. From now on she’d be all things to him -- beloved, wife and heroine as well.

Just as the fat-bellied burgomaster was ready to pronounce all the couples man and wife, old Coppelius stomped on to the scene. “Who will pay fro the damage to my house, to my people?” he cried, waving his cane about.

There was an awful silence. Then Swanilda stepped forward and bowed her head. In her hand was the bag of gold she’d just received as her dowry. “Here, sir, take this. All that happened to you was my fault.”



But the burgomaster stopped her. “No, my dear, the lord of the manor has sent this extra bag of gold for the old man. All debts have been paid in full. Now let us celebrate.”

Dr. Coppelius left the newlyweds to their drinking and dancing. He wanted no part in their happiness. But high above from her balcony where the curtains had been opened wide, the doll Coppelia sat watching the celebrations. For once, her book rested, unread, in her lap. And if you looked very closely, you could see a serene smile on her face as she gazed down at them all.


The End