"Are you going to the Red Army Theatre?" Essex asked.
"I put that off," Katherine said. "I'm going to the Bol-shoi   to  see  'Giselle.'"1
"You had better hurry."
"I shan't be late," Katherine said. "I'm never late."

They were not late for the ballet, but they were still in the marble foyer when the bell rang. An attendant hurried them into a box and locked it behind them.
"It's a pity to waste such a beautiful theatre on ballet," Essex murmured as the overture started. He had been sur¬prised at the Bolshoi from the moment he entered it. He had thought that the Bolsheviks would spoil it, but he recognized here the atmosphere of a well-run2 theatre. They had not taken away its rich red furnishings,3 and all the gilt facings4 were freshly painted right to the high ceiling. The theatre was packed to its six tiers,5 and below in the parterre8 there was not an empty seat.

Essex forgot his prejudice about ballet in the first act of "Giselle," and at the entr'acte7 he said to her: "This is the best of their culture, no doubt."
"By no means," she cried as they joined a large circle of people who were walking round in the large upstairs foyer. "Their music and drama are quite as good. Their opera is better than you will see in London—and far more frequent. In fact, there is no place quite like Moscow for theatre and music, so don't be grudging8 about it."
When they had seen the ballet through,9 she said: "Have you ever seen anything like it?" as they waited at the counter10 to gather their coats.11
"I don't believe I have," Essex said. "Not in ballet, anyway."

(James Aldridge, The Diplomat)