There was a picture of various castles in Spain. They were most beautiful, were those castles. The lights that shone on the battlements were soft, bright lights. For one thing, I fancied I saw myself and Fame with me. Fame is very fine. The sun and moon and stars may go dark in the Heavens. Bitter rain may fall out of the clouds. But never mind. Fame has a sun and moon and gently brilliant stars of her own, and these, shining once, shine always. The green river may run dry in the land. But Fame has a green river that never runs dry. One may wander over the face of the earth. But Fame is herself a refuge. One may be a target for stones and mud. Yes--but Fame stands near with her arm laid across one’s shoulders--as no other arm can be laid across one’s shoulders. Fame would fill several empty places. Fame would continue to fill them for some years. Fame, if you please, Devil. There was a picture of Death. I saw a figure lying in the midst of a desert that was rather like my sand and barrenness. Not far off a wolf sat on his haunches and waited for the end. A buzzard perched near and waited also. They both appeared hungry. It seemed as though the end might come quickly. Let it come, kind Devil. And a wolf and a buzzard are better than an undertaker and some worms. Although that doesn’t much matter. And oh, there again was the dearest picture of all--the red, red picture of Happiness for me, Happiness with the sunshine falling on the Heaven-kissing hills! There was I, and I loved and was loved. I--out of loneliness into perfect Happiness! The yellow-gold of the glorious hot sun melted and poured over the earth and over everything that was there. The river ran and rippled and sang the most sweetly glad song that ever river sang. Winged things sparkled in the gold light and flew down the sky. “The wonderful air was over me; the wonderful wind was shaking the tree.” The silent voices in the air rang out like flutes and clarionets. And the love of the man-devil for me was everywhere--above me, around me, within me. It would last for a number of beautiful yellow-gold days. I--out of the anguish of loneliness into this! My heart is filled with desire. My soul is filled with passion. My life is a life of longing. All pictures fade before this picture. They fade completely. When the sun itself faded I gazed over my sand and barrenness with blurred, unseeing eyes and wished only with a heavy, desolate spirit for the coming of the Devil. March 21.