Through this curtain is an opera box--the most comfortable one I've ever been in; it does for theatres as well, and oratorios and concerts and scientific lectures. You shall see from it every performance I've ever been at, in half a dozen languages; you shall hold my hand and understand them all. Every singer that I ever heard, you shall hear. Dear Giulia Grisi shall sing the 'Willow Song' again and again, and you shall hear the applause. Ah, what applause! Come into this little room--my favorite; out of _this_ window and down these steps we can walk or drive to any place you or I have ever been to, and other places besides. Nothing is far, and we have only to go hand in hand. I don't know yet where my stables and coach-houses are; you must help me to find out. But so far I have never lacked a carriage at the bottom of those steps when I wanted to drive, nor a steam-launch, nor a gondola, nor a lovely place to go to. Out of _this_ window, from this divan, we can sit and gaze on whatever we like. What shall it be? Just now, you perceive, there is a wild and turbulent sea, with not a ship in sight. Do you hear the waves tumbling and splashing, and see the albatross? I had been reading Keats's 'Ode to the Nightingale,' and was so fascinated by the idea of a lattice opening on the foam '_Of perilous seas by faery lands forlorn_' that I thought it would be nice to have a lattice like that myself. I tried to evolve that sea from my inner consciousness, you know, or rather from seas that I have sailed over. Do you like it? It was done a fortnight ago, and the waves have been tumbling about ever since. How they roar! and hark at the wind! I couldn't manage the 'faery lands.' It wants one lattice for the sea, and one for the land, I'm afraid. You must help me. Mean while, what would you like there tonight--the Yosemite Valley? the Nevski Prospect in the winter, with the sledges? the Rialto? the Bay of Naples after sunset, with Vesuvius in eruption?... --"Oh Mary--Mimsey--what do I care for Vesuvius, and sunsets, and the Bay of Naples ... _just now_? ... Vesuvius is in my heart!" * * * * * Thus began for us both a period of twenty-five years, during which we passed eight or nine hours out of the twenty-four in each other's company--except on a few rare occasions, when illness or some other cause prevented one of us from sleeping at the proper time. Mary! Mary! I idolized her while she lived; I idolize her memory. For her sake all women are sacred to me, even the lowest and most depraved and God-forsaken. They always found a helping friend in _her_. How can I pay a fitting tribute to one so near to me--nearer than any woman can ever have been to any man?