Dans le mystique soir d’avril j’ai triomphé. J’ai crié d’une voix de victoire: Elle est morte ... —Quel sourire de paix sur tes lèvres muettes, O soeur des violettes! J’ai brûlé de baisers des pieds blancs de la Mort Car elle t’épargna la souillure et l’empreinte, L’angoisse de désir, les affres de l’étreinte, Les ardeurs de vouloir, l’âpreté de l’effort. —L’amour s’est éloigné de tes lèvres muettes, O soeur des violettes![24] The contrast between these devoted elegies and the poems to her second love is striking, and one is aware of a revolt against passion _per se_. For the first time the poet voices a longing for death which recurred with increasing frequency in her later work. Completely sobered by her double loss, Vivien seems to have spent some part of 1901 in Scotland with her family. On her return to Paris she leased the large residence which had housed her and Violet during their early association, and made it her permanent home. Here she must have worked on the three volumes which appeared in 1902 and on the translation of Sappho which was among those of 1903. This last and _Kitharèdes_ (renderings into French of all fragments from the Greek Anthology written by or about women) were lauded by critics both as translations and as poetry, the only adverse comment being that they were so much wordier than the originals. What she apparently attempted, however, was to expand fragments into plausible wholes, as many other translators have done before and since (cf. especially Marion Mills Miller). The year 1902, says Germain, was probably the calmest of her life. She was suffering from disillusion as to her own powers of emotional constancy, and believed that the serious loves of her life lay behind her. If in mid-twentieth century this sounds adolescent in a young woman of twenty-five, one must remember that in the English-speaking countries the emotional ideal popularly given lip service at the turn of the century was still “One Great Love in a Life.” For a year she strove for emotional quiescence, but there are signs even in _Evocations_ (1902) of encounter with a new personality: Sonnet Ta royale jeunesse a la mélancolie Du Nord où le brouillard efface les couleurs. Tu mêles la discorde et le désir aux pleurs, Grave comme Hamlet, pâle comme Ophélie ... Mon coeur déconcerté se trouble quand je vois Ton front pensif de prince et tes yeux bleus de vierge, Tantôt l’Un tantôt l’Autre, et les Deux à la fois.[25] Twilight Les clartés de la nuit, les ténèbres du jour Out la complexité de mon étrange amour ... L’ambigu de ton corps s’alambique et s’affine Dans son ardeur stérile et sa grace androgyne ...