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. " "First, let me introduce my friends," returned Jack, stepping to the door. She thought of all sorts of odd and desperate expedients, and with passionate petulance rejected them all. "Jack," exclaimed the widow, starting up and drawing back the curtain.
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