It was now getting dusk, and he could only imperfectly distinguish the features and figure of the stranger. They’re fairly intricate little things. She turned to the stage, and Tristan was wounded in Kurvenal’s arms, with Isolde at his feet, and King Mark, the incarnation of masculine force and obligation, the masculine creditor of love and beauty, stood over him, and the second climax was ending in wreaths and reek of melodies; and then the curtain was coming down in a series of short rushes, the music had ended, and the people were stirring and breaking out into applause, and the lights of the auditorium were resuming. Far away there was the one woman for this boy of mine—some human being who would understand the dear fool better than all the rest of the world. ’ ‘Was it yours?’ Insulted beyond bearing, Melusine lost her temper.
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