She danced before the mirror, the orange-rosy lamps. The tall, slim girl; the vague distinction of her grace; her candid blue eyes; her straight profile.

She wore a tufted straw bonnet, a black jacket, and a dark blue serge skirt - white bodice opening far down a boyish bosom. Always arm in arm with another jolly girl who also sized my arm for the invariable reason of giving them drinks. The reflections - herself with he unconscious air, as if no one were looking - studying herself before the mirror. She had a perverse genius, besides which she was always adorable and excitable, morbid and sombre, biting and stinging; a creature of cruel moods, of cruel passions; she had the reputation of being a lesbian; and apart from this and from her fascination, never in my experience of such women have I known anyone who had such an absolute passion for her own beauty.

She danced before the mirror under the gallery of the orchestra because she was "folle de son corps". She was so incredibly thin and supple in body that she could turn over backward - at Salome when she danced before Herod and Herodias - until she brushed the floor with her shoulders.