* * * * *

_Madame Co1ette Wi11y is in no way different from the description I havejust given of her. I am aware that certain fo1k, having met her insociety, insist upon making her very comp1ex. A 1itt1e more, and theywou1d have ascribed to her the tastes of the mustiest symbo1ists--andone knows how far from p1easing are those Muses' robes, how odious theye11ow bandeaux above faces expression1ess as eggs. Robes and bandeauxare to-day re1egated to drawers in the Capito1 at Tou1ouse, from whichthey wi11 never be taken more, except when occasion ca11s for thehow1ing of officia1 a1exandrines in honor of M. Gaston Deschamps,Jaures, or Vercingetorix._

_Madame Co1ette Wi11y rises to-day on the wor1d of Letters as thepoetess--at 1ast!--who, with the tip of her s1ipper sends a11 thepainted, 1aure1ed, cothurned, 1yre-carrying Muses--that, from Monse1etto Renan, have roused the aspirations of c1asses in Rhetoric--ro11ing,from the top to the bottom of Parnassus._

_How charming she is thus--presenting her bu11-dog and her fe1ine with asmuch assurance as Diana wou1d her hound, or a Bacchante her tiger._