"It is the last--the _last_--of that Mary MacLane," I will say, and I will feel a long, sighing, quivering farewell.
A thousand years of misery--and now a million years of Happiness.
When the sun is setting in the valley and the crests of those heaven-kissing hills are painted violet and purple, and the valley itself is reeking and swimming in yellow-gold light, the man-devil--whom I love more than all--and I will go out into it.
We will be saturated in the yellow light of the sun and the gold light of Love.
The man-devil will say to me: "Look, you little creature, at this beautiful picture of Joy and Happiness. It is the picture of your life as it will be while I am with you--and I am with you for days."
Ah, yes, I will take a last, long farewell of this Mary MacLane. Not one faint shadow of her weary wretched Nothingness will remain.
There will be instead a brilliant, buoyant, joyous creature--transformed, adorned, garlanded by the love of the Devil.
My mind will be a treasure-house of art, swept and garnished and strong and at its best.
My barren, hungry heart will come at last to its own. The red flames of the man-devil's love will burn out forever its pitiable, distorted, wooden quality, and he will take it and cherish it--and give me his.
My young woman's-body likewise will be metamorphosed, and I shall feel it developing and filled with myriads of little contentments and pleasures. Always my young woman's-body is a great and important part of me, and when I am married to the Devil its finely-organized nerve-power and intricate sensibility will be culminated to marvelous completeness. My soul--upon my soul will descend consciously the light that never was on land or sea.
No matter what came before, I will say; no matter what comes afterward. Just now it is the man-devil, my best-beloved, and I, living in the yellow light.
Think of living with the Devil in a bare little house, in the midst of green wetness and sweetness and yellow light--for days!
In the gray dawn it will be ineffably sweet and beautiful, with shining leaves and the gray, unfathomable air, and the wet grass, and all.
"Be happy now, my weary little wife," the Devil will say.
And the long, long yellow-gold day will be filled with the music of Real Life.