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.
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