veiled in ‘suddenly imposed shadows.’ At the ballet’s end Hercules is willing to abjure Vesta, adopt the religion of Astarte, and enter into the marriage with Omphale urged by the high priest. But Omphale, at last enamoured of a man, demurs because she knows that the sequel to the nuptials must be the sacrifice of Hercules on Astarte’s altar. At this point, the maiden Iole appears bringing the miraculous tunic of Nessus from Hercules’s wife, Dejanira. This tunic supposedly will save him from the power of Astarte and rekindle the flame of legitimate love. The charms of Iole so transcend those of Hercules in the eyes of Omphale that she offers to release him and his warriors if she may keep the girl. Hercules, “toujours naïf,” accepts the bargain, dons the tunic, and bursts into flame, igniting temple and palace as well. Omphale, undisturbed either by his dying cries or the general conflagration, embarks for Lesbos with the enraptured Iole amid the ritual chants and dancing of all the women. Breville, who finds Leroux’s score worthy of serious attention, is fairly scornful of Gramont’s book. Here, he says, Hercules is not a mythical hero but a robust swashbuckler who stalks about like the professional wrestler paid to let an amateur win the bout. Amorous psychology, he feels, has given way to mere physiology; Omphale’s sudden preference for Iole is unconvincing, and moralists have no real case against a work which ends in barren triumph for the purely sensual. Despite this negative judgment the opera must have survived at least from February till April, which suggests that Breville’s opinion was prejudiced. In the same year a popular star of music hall and demi-monde, Liane de Pougy, published a novel, _Idylle Saphique_. Rachilde in the _Mercure_ pronounced it well-written but omitted comment on its theme, evidently thinking the title sufficiently obvious. She confined herself to lamenting that the author seemed on her way to becoming a respectable woman (_honnête_), ‘and what is worse, a bluestocking.’[9] The _Jahrbuch_, which repeatedly deplored the French tendency to regard homosexuality as an experience possible for anyone, rather than the innate tendency which that journal’s sponsors championed, considered the _Idylle_ psychologically sound, and gave an extensive résumé of the plot,[10] which seems representative enough of the sensational variant novels of the time to merit review here. Annhine de Lys, famous Parisian _courtisane_, differs from most of her class in dreaming of a great love. Her profitable life with a millionaire or two has sickened her of both luxury and sex, so that when a twenty-year-old American falls in love with her she is moved by the girl’s intense worship. She herself has hitherto avoided ‘lesbian degeneracy,’ and continues to resist it in its completeness, having been warned by a colleague that it wrecks the nerves.