Star-spangled couple.

When Gillian Murphy met Ethan Stiefel, they were at opposite ends of American Ballet Theatre's roster. She, at 18, was new in the corps de ballet, and he, at 24, was a principal dancer and ABT's newest star. The first year they were just friends who hung out in a group in which she was often the only girl among five guys. Stiefel says, "It was a loose, fun camaraderie where there were no levels of rank." Within a year, the friendship had turned to romance.

Since they've been together--nearly seven years--she progressed from corps to soloist in 1999 and to principal dancer in 2002. Murphy says that Stiefel "inspires me to be better and grow as an artist."

"For me," Stiefel says, "it's rewarding to share my life with her and watch her career happen." Together they are a power couple--and two of the few Americans in ABT's top ranks--that the public flocks to see perform.

Last season their Swan Lake shimmered with feeling. "The white acts are so vulnerable," says Murphy. "They are especially meaningful when danced with the man I love." Another ballet they dance together is La Fille real gardee. The lead roles, Lise and Colas, are "so silly and romantic," says Murphy, "that we feel completely like ourselves."

Both Stiefel and Murphy possess ideal physiques and sublime musicality. They had great facility at an early age and, in their early teens, garnered numerous competition awards and grants.

Murphy was born in Wimbledon, England, but was raised in South Carolina, where she started classes at age 5 and trained and performed with Columbia City Ballet. In 1996, after graduating from North Carolina School of the Arts, where former New York City Ballet star Melissa Hayden cast her in principal roles in Balanchine ballets like Concerto Barocco, she joined ABT.

Stiefel, who was born in Pennsylvania and grew up in Madison, Wisconsin, started dancing at 8. After training at Milwaukee Ballet School and Central Pennsylvania Youth Ballet, he moved to New York City to study on scholarship at the School of American Ballet. At 16, he joined New York City Ballet. Three years later he did a one-year stint with the Zurich Ballet, then returned to NYCB as a soloist, becoming a principal in 1995. Two years later he signed on with ABT.

The couple shares an unmistakable bond, finishing each other's sentences and often deferring to one another. But they are also strong, independent, and refreshingly candid.

Murphy, a delicate beauty with deep-set, sapphire-blue eyes, is serene and smart, with a strong sense of herself. "Gillian is one of the most direct and brutally honest people I've ever met--which was one of her attractions--apart from the obvious," says Stiefel. She is also courageous. Early in their relationship, Murphy joined him on a three-week, cross-country trek on the back of his Harley Davidson. "It was the first time she had ever been on a motorcycle--ever! It was day one of 3,000 miles," Stiefel says.

What impresses Murphy is Stiefel's leadership quality. After he delivered an impassioned speech to the dancers' union, some of the dancers began calling him "General." A natural clown, he also makes his girlfriend laugh. "We can be really silly and romantic," says Murphy, "but we both have a dramatic and more thoughtful side too."

They've had their ups and downs, mostly during and after Stiefel's work on the feature film Center Stage; the long hours of filming arduous dance sequences depleted his usually boundless energy. And Murphy, then 19, suffered bouts of jealousy whenever Stiefel rehearsed or filmed steamy love scenes with his co-star, San Francisco Ballet's Amanda Schull. He tried to be reassuring, Stiefel says, but "it ruined her day." By the time they attended the movie premiere together, in April 2000, she was long over it.

Much harder to deal with was the aftermath of Stiefel's success. His commitments to ABT, Center Stage, and guest gigs that poured in from all over the world took a toll on Stiefel's health. He came down with the flu, but continued to perform. The flu gave way to mononucleosis and finally chronic fatigue syndrome, which sidelined him for several months.

As Murphy and Stiefel rehearse William Forsythe's idiosyncratic work-withinwork, it's clear that they each have their own perspective on how to the job done. Watching Murphy assimilate style, process corrections and absorb dramatic interpretation suggests that her mind works like a computer--efficient and effective. She knows what she needs to accomplish at every rehearsal--and does.

Stiefel, on the other hand, appears laid back, but he instantly programs Forsythe's stretched and skewed moves into his body. He doesn't merely adapt a style; he adopts it wholesale. In the next rehearsal, Stiefel instinctively morphs into the knock-kneed, hunched puppet of Michel Fokine's Petrouchka. Twyla Tharp once dubbed him "the dancer who can do it all--the perfect dancer."

When things go wrong in the performance the couple tackles it objectively. "We are supportive and positive with each other," says Stiefel. They analyze where and why it went wrong and fix the problem. "We are both perfectionists," Stiefel says, "and we set the bar extremely high."

Kevin McKenzie, ABT's artistic director says, "Gillian and Ethan are both such straightforward people. They're unafraid to state there preferences but are always aware of the company's needs first. They also are both extremely hardworking, and it clearly pays off."

They keep their personal lives separate from ballet. For downtime, whenever their hectic schedules permit, they escape to their country house in Pennsylvania, which Stiefel helped design and Murphy decorated. Or they visit their families, who've supported their careers from the beginning.

They both adore children and someday want their own, but for now they lavish love on Selah, their cat. These days their careers take up almost all their energy and time. This month Murphy starts filming the full-length Swan Lake with Angel Corella for PBS. And throughout 2005 their "dance card" is full.

They insist, however, that their relationship supersedes their careers. Murphy starts to say, "If I were to go hack to the corps--"

"And I became a mechanic," chimes in Stiefel, "our relationship would still be intact."

Astrida Woods, a frequent DM contributor, is the dance editor and critic of Show Business Weekly and contributes to Hamptons, Country, and Oprah.