The lezginka dancer was a very small, very young girl, about sixteen years old, very pretty and delicate, in a pale blue blouse and black skirt, and an expression of sheer terror on her face. We talked for a while, I calmed her down and cheered her up, laughing and joking as I was used to doing in the artists' room at the Conservatoire. When she went on stage I sat opposite. I didn't much like the dance itself, but I found the music really attractive. It consisted of repeated four-bar phrases supported by a primitive kind of harmony. Just before it ended I got up and went to join Gorsky in the artists' room. From there I could hear that the lezginka was being encored, and then he and I went in to the hall, reminiscing about the Conservatoire.