“Ils” were her relatives, and it is true that she was buried at Passy beneath a slab bearing for identification only her father’s name, John Tarn. Immediately upon her death the quick-witted and practical Reinach, foreseeing attempts on the part of church, family and even some friends to suppress evidence of her emotional history, took possession of letters and unpublished manuscripts and deposited them in the Bibliothèque Nationale, with the stipulation that they should not be made public until after the year 2000 A.D.[35] It will, therefore, rest with another generation to compile the definitive record of her work and her essentially tragic life. Some years later in _Notes and Queries_ Reinach wrote the following informal tribute in response to an inquiry: I could quote from those volumes at least two hundred verses which rank among the finest specimens of French poetry. ... I am aware that there are some objectionable elements in her books, and wish that they should not be dwelt upon; but her genius—for genius she had—is the more extraordinary as she wrote in a language not her own. I feel sure she will be famous some day, and think it desirable that we should try to know more about her before it gets too late.[36] All the critics who grant her this superlative poetic quality agree that she has received nothing approaching her due recognition because of the lesbian element in her work. In view of the small number of persons in any generation who are tolerant of such love, it may be that she will never receive it. * * * * * There remains little to mention in the way of variant French poetry, though occasionally some isolated chance-encountered fragment—like a sonnet to Hermaphroditus by Marguérite Yourcenar—stimulates a fruitless search for more of an author’s verse. The _Mercure de France_ reported in 1902 Henry Rigal’s _Sur le Mode Sapphique_, of which Pierre Quillard’s review says that it was prefaced by a quotation from Pierre Louÿs: ‘When a loving pair is composed of two women, then it is perfect.’[37] The slim volume was made up of a dozen brief episodes laid in a dimly distant Ionic island setting, and recounted in antiphonal stanzas the love between Chrysea and Mnais. It was apparently a close imitation of Louÿs’s _Songs of Bilitis_, with Mnais in the more masculine role. It ends with a shepherd lad catching Chrysea’s eye one evening and piquing her imagination by dreams of “a stronger and better love.” Were it not for the title, says Quillard, one could well believe the amorous dialogue one between a girl and an _éphèbe_—an effeminate man.