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I was born in a small village called P-----, in the Dolomites, near Lake Garda, in the year 18--. I was my parents' only child; three brothers and two sisters had died shortly after they were born, and my parents despaired of having any progeny, when I was born.
My father was a banker; in our village we were considered to be well off. Between our money, and my being the sole offspring, my parents saw to it that I wanted for nothing, and every whim of mine was granted.
Despite this, I was not an ill-natured child. When I was about six, a woman named signora Gravanti came and settled in our village. She had been a ballet mistress in Turin; now she took a few pupils. I was one of them, and I discovered my life's passion. Signora Gravanti was kind, but severe, and her descriptions of the ballerinas in Turin, the company's performances, the whole life, came alive for me. I began to dream of the day when I would leave my village, dance as a principal, perform for royalty. To a small child, no dream is too unattainable, and so it should be.
One thing is certain: under signora Gravanti's stern tutelage, I learned discipline, and the value of hard work, and was corrected of any wayward habits I might have developed under my parents' tolerant guidance. |
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