soul showing clear and naked against the sordid
background of Cavalleria Rusticana.

The slinking ferocity of Cesarine's entrance
into her husband's atelier; the scene with An-
tonine; the interview of Camille with Armand's
father; the gracious gayety of Goldoni La
Locandiera; that hideous battle of an exas-
perated man and woman before the closed doors
in Fernande; Magda's wonderful blush as she
meets Kellar, the cold-hearted prig, who ruined
her--all these stale situations and well-worn
types, Magda being an honourable exception,
Duse literally re-created. In them we felt the
power of her intellect, the magic of the woman.
And she stared tradition in the face by refus-
ing to "make up," unconcealing her own hair
and doing nothing to restrict the plasticity of her
figure. Now she wears wigs, uses rouge dis-
creetly, for her hair is gray and her face more
matured. But her art is broader, though losing
none of its former subtlety. There is more
weight, more brilliancy, in her action and gesture,
and that doubtless prompted some critics to com-
pare her to Sarah Bernhardt. But she is still
Eleonora Duse, the woman with the imagination,
the glance, and the beautiful hands.

The wisdom of her choice in selecting only
D'Annunzio's dramas is not altogether apparent.
She will listen to no advice; perhaps she is on
a mission; perhaps she wishes to make known
everywhere the genius of her young country-
man, and to go back with the means to raise

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