Barcelona has fallen. The very thought of it makes my heart bleed. Over the past two and a half years, when fate has bound me so closely to the fortunes of Spain, I identified with the heroic struggle of the Spanish Republic. Its victories were my victories, and its defeats my defeats. Strange as it may seem, it’s as if we, in the Soviet Union, suddenly rediscovered the Spanish people afresh. Never in the past have the destinies of Spain and Russia intersected. We knew little about this country and her people. We never took an interest in them. It is only now, in the din and thunder of the Spanish war, that we have suddenly come to understand and feel how wonderful, proud and heroic the Spanish nation is and what reserves of revolutionary energy it has accumulated over long years of oppression and suffering…