. His fingers slipped under the collar of her linen shift and he tore it open with a swipe. Good riddance. ‘Why?’ Melusine eyed him dubiously. 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. ‘What else was there to do? He paid off the servants and left old Pottiswick in charge, saying that the place would have to remain empty until the heir was found. ” “Well,” she said, “has there not been some reason for this? The likeness to Annabel could scarcely have escaped remark.
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