[within a dirty shopping bag] Psyche', the prettiest of the cheval-glasses is certainly the oval one from Compiègne, the frame of which is fitted, low down, into the elegant counter-curve of the wings of the gilt sphoenixes on each side, which support on their heads quivering tufts of bundled bronze arrows. In the middle of the tendrils which, springing from the tails of the fabulous animals', ache, adorn the lunette below the mirror, grimaces the head of the horned Pan. It grimaces at the two heads of bacchantes which blaze forth in the center of the two graceful pedestals - or did the artist intend that it should be there, at the bottom of the mirror, as a sort of grotesque cul-de-lampe, a tailpiece to the crystal page upon which would be printed the image of a comely woman? There has been much amusement at the Empire mania for attributes that match the functions of the various pieces of furniture, but here symbolic suggestion and elegant line seem to me to be all of a piece...
[something from the shitty entrails of beauty]
