" He opened his eyes again. “If only Sir John were not Sir John I would ask you to come and have some supper. Reconnoitring them through a small grated loophole, he refused to open the door till they had explained their business. “That’s all. She could still smell the now familiar scent of him on the girl's body in the makeshift grave. 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.
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