Isadora Duncan's second school in France.

In 1914 Isadora Duncan, with the help of Paris Singer, founded the school in Paris. It was her second try to teach children her art and to make them harmonious developed people. Her previous school was in German,Grunewald,which she headed with her sister Elizabeth. But,mostly,due to financial problems and Elizabeth's plan of opening her own school , it was closed. Isadora hoped to spend the rest of her days at Bellevue and to leave as a legacy the result of her work. With the help of her senior students, brother and some friends, she selected 20- 30 children from different countries.
In biography she didn't write in details about school regime and teaching. So, to understand better what the school represented, the best illustation would give the memoir of actrees Elsa Lanchester,who was Duncan's student for a short time, "Elsa Lanchester herself'":
 
  When I was about eleven, Raymond Duncan told Biddy that his sister, Isadora Duncan, was opening a school for talented children in Paris - “ To Teach the World to Dance." All expenses would be paid. I was a chosen child, one of about twenty in the world-lsadora's world.

The school building at Bellevue had been given to Isadora Duncan by a very wealthy gentleman called Paris Singer, of the Singer Sewing Machine family. Bellevue had been a large hotel with 150 bedrooms. It was still furnished in the manner of the nineteenth century,with brass bedsteads glittering with knobs that we would all screw on and off during idle hours and on wet days. We each had our individual grand suite with vast black-and-white tiled bathrooms with bidets. After getting over the shock of what a bidet was for, we children had a lot of fun with our miniature Versailles.

When I joined the school, Isadora was pregnant and, I believe, having one of her lawsuits with the dancer Loie Fuller. Swathed in draperies, she did most of her teaching lying on a chaise lounge, only occasionally getting up to move about. Isadora was usually covered from head to foot,even her face, with the finest veiling of the palest cream color. Through this cocoon you could catch a glimpse of her hennaed hair (in those days hair dyed red had brassy purple highlights in it) and a glimpse of her plump white arms and hands with redpainted fingernails. I had good reason to notice those nails because each morning we had to line up to kiss her hand and say. “Good morning. Miss Duncan." I just pretended to kiss it because the gesture was too much like bowing before royalty.

Although it was a great honor to be recruited as a talented child, I soon learned that all Isadora could do was teach us to run away from or toward an enemy or to become an autumn leaf . . . or something.

As a matter of fact, she had no technique of her own that she could pass on to others - she could not teach any of her pupils to be the beautiful, sexy girl she had been. So we just walked and ran and jumped, each in his or her own way. Or we'd listen to something like Schumann's "Traumerei," and when the notes of the melody went up our arms went up. This was known to us as Interpreting the Music.

Sometimes Isadora would rise from her divan and herd us over to one of the great long windows overlooking the Seine. She would point to some climbing pink roses growing wildly over an old trellis pergola,and, as a few of the petals fell. she would say, ”They dance, now you dance!" Then, with a Christlike gesture-both hands outturned-she would bid us scatter. And we did.

We did a few limbering-up exercises under the leadership of some teen-age students who had been “borrowed” from her sister Elizabeth's school in Darmstadt. These nice young German girls remained borrowed and never went home. After all, the Isadora emporium offered superb food, good clothes, trips in Rolls-Royces to the Louvre and Versailles. We were all beautifully dressed, and each of us had a warm coat of a different color. We must have looked like a living rainbow, and we all loved the attention we got! My coat was a clay-colored brown, which made me very envious of the others who mostly had brightly colored ones. We were shepherded about Paris like valuable Pekinese.

At Bellevue in the blue salon we children wore blue chiffon, and for the white salon we wore white chiffon. We danced for three hours every morning, then we had lunch. Our food was the most superb

French cuisine imaginable. There was often a stream of famous visitors to watch us dance and eat. They were the cream of French and Italian society and would pat us on the head as if our youth and talent might rub off on their gloved hands.[...].Often we would have to sit for two or three hours justlistening to music, the classics played by Paderewski and other great pianists of the day[...].

We seemed to spend a great deal of time playing croquet in the rose garden and riding on a dilapidated funicular railway that went down to the Seine. Somehow, amid all this activity, we also managed a few desultory school lessons. Fraulein Winter, our teacher-governess was hired to instruct us in the three Rs. but we spoiled, naughty children soon put a stop to that. The dark-haired, darker-eyed Fraulein sat more or less alone in her schoolroom, giving guttural orders that we all found very funny. After all, we were geniuses and more powerful than Miss Winter.[...]

With war in the air, most of us who had homes were sent back. The remaining children and student-teachers drifted to Russia with Isadora and so melted away into history. If I had stayed longer at Isadora's school, I would probably have become a classical dancer in the worst sense of the term, backed by no knowledge of life and with no sense of responsibility. I was fortunate not to have been caught up in that  particular art eddy. After all  bare feet are no longer naughty and nobody can make a living today by imitating rose petals.