She moved her hand off of his knee, deliberately slow. 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. “If you wish,” he said, “I will go there in the morning and see what can be done for him. \"I had a good time tonight. She mentally resolved to do her best to avoid personal encounters with him in that instant. " "Fool!" cried Wild, taking up the body, "what are you afraid of? After all," he added, pausing, "he may be of more use to me alive than dead. ’ ‘No, sister, I know that, but—’ ‘You needn’t tell me.
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