When all is seen, says the princess, there is nothing better than wild, dark water that is too vast to be measured and that is good for a thousand of years, and that contains yet as good fish as ever came out of it. It gives up pink shells upon the sand in the kindness of its heart, and it sends wild whistling gales up to the pinnacles of my red castle to sing for me and to tell me many stories. And it has wild winds wandering in and upon the high walls and caves along its rugged coast--and if I knew not that they were winds I would surely think them the voices of sea-maids singing--high, thin, piercing voices mingled with the sound of long, washing waves. And it gives out dreary lonesome cries--a loon calling in the night mists a mile away, and wild geese honking--so that I know there are things in it and upon it a hundred times wilder and lonesomer than I. And it sends good ships driving against these great rocks, and dashes them to pieces, and human beings go down with them to rest for a thousand of years in the depths, so that I know it loves human beings well, and has need of them. In the forenoon of a day in July it melts my heart with its glad, warm sunshine and dazzles my eyes and fills me with comfort--and I know that life is a safe thing. When all is seen, says the princess, there is nothing better. Thus I have a vision of my friend Annabel Lee as a princess in a tall, red castle by the side of the sea. But neither is this my friend Annabel Lee. For she is more fascinating still, and her castle is even taller, and a deeper red--and more than all she is herself. XIX THE ART OF CONTEMPLATION Yesterday my friend Annabel Lee and I sat comfortably opposite each other at a small table, eating our luncheon. She was very fair and good-natured--and we had tiny broiled fish, and some tea with slices of lemon in it, and bread, and green lettuce sprinkled over with vinegar and oil and red pepper, and two mugs of ale. “Food is a lovely thing, don’t you think?” said I. “One of the best ever invented,” said my friend Annabel Lee. “Have you considered how _much_ would be gone from life if there were no food, and if we had not to eat three times every day?” “Yes, I’ve considered it,” I replied, “and it’s a pleasure that never palls.” “It is so much more than pleasure,” said my friend Annabel Lee. “It is a necessity and an art and a relaxation and an unburdening--and, dear me, it brings one up to the level of kings or of the beasts that perish.