I like, too, to spend an afternoon conversing with a number of ladies in
a comfortable drawing room, which is well heated. I visualize the
various rewards which are meted out by fame as being housed invariably
under a good roof. What is not intimate, does not appeal to me.

I have often seen Guimera in a cafe on the Rambla in Barcelona, drinking
coffee at a table, alone and forlorn, in the midst of a crowd of shop
clerks and commercial travellers.

"Is that Guimera?" I asked a Catalan journalist.

"Yes."

And then he told me that they had tendered him a tremendous testimonial
some months previously, which had been attended by I don't know how many
hundreds of societies, all marching with their banners.

I have no very clear idea of just what Guimera has done, as it is many
years since I have gone to the theatre, but I know that he is considered
in Catalonia to be one of the glories of the country.

I should not care for an apotheosis, and then find myself left forlorn
and alone to take my coffee afterwards with a horde of clerks.

I may never write anything that will take the world by storm--most
probably not; but if I do, and it occurs to my fellow townsmen to
organize one of these celebrations with flags, banners and choral
societies, they need not count upon my attendance. They will not be able
to discover me even with the aid of Sherlock Holmes.