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
