'Le pas à deux, une danse entre moi et toi ... Sans amour, sans toi, c'est parfait. Sans amour, sans moi, c'est un espar.' She whispered, harried, her voice trembling, in what seemed as sorrow. To those who were not insightful, she spoke the gospels like the Virgin Mary yet reality was so much simpler. This is the story of the Marchioness Édith de Léontine-Nicolette. Her story of death, her story of life, her melodious rhythm of dance. She was a hypnotic visage, yet in other words, she was the prisage. Explore her fate.