Like a doll on a music box she moved. She appeared like a porcelain figurine on the stage. The little dancer with, with artless grace and unintended charm, as feminine and sexless as a flowered alabaster angel, could make enchantment without the aid of exceptional talent.
Her grace was in her form, not in her dancing. Yet, she could captivate. The innocence with which she did made it all the more potent. There is something devastating in a power that is wielded by someone who has no knowledge of its existence.
She was no Christine, but Meg Giry was charming.