Isadora Duncan threw away ballet shoes and corsets and danced barefoot in flowing tunics, inspired by ancient Greek art. She is called the mother of modern dance. On a warm evening in Nice, aged fifty, she climbed into an open sports car with a handsome young driver, wearing a long, hand-painted silk scarf. Her friend Mary Desti remembered her last words as she waved: 'Adieu, mes amis, je vais à la gloire!' Goodbye, my friends, I go to glory. The scarf caught in the car's spoked rear wheel. We stay with the moment before she gets in. The words are imagined.