where you could not find your duplicates. It is the same with everything
else which one might propose to call "American." M. Bourget thinks he
has found the American Coquette. If he had really found her he would
also have found, I am sure, that she was not new, that she exists in
other lands in the same forms, and with the same frivolous heart and the
same ways and impulses. I think this because I have seen our coquette;
I have seen her in life; better still, I have seen her in our novels,
and seen her twin in foreign novels. I wish M. Bourget had seen ours.
He thought he saw her. And so he applied his System to her. She was a
Species. So he gathered a number of samples of what seemed to be her,
and put them under his glass, and divided them into groups which he calls
"types," and labeled them in his usual scientific way with "formulas"
--brief sharp descriptive flashes that make a person blink, sometimes,
they are so sudden and vivid. As a rule they are pretty far-fetched,
but that is not an important matter; they surprise, they compel
admiration, and I notice by some of the comments which his efforts have
called forth that they deceive the unwary. Here are a few of the
coquette variants which he has grouped and labeled:

THE COLLECTOR.
THE EQUILIBREE.
THE PROFESSIONAL BEAUTY.
THE BLUFFER.
THE GIRL-BOY.

If he had stopped with describing these characters we should have been
obliged to believe that they exist; that they exist, and that he has seen
them and spoken with them. But he did not stop there; he went further
and furnished to us light-throwing samples of their behavior, and also
light-throwing samples of their speeches. He entered those things in his