” “I am highly flattered,” she remarked, with subtle irony. 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. ” She shivered. Slowly and ruefully she realized why marriage was so idealized among her generations of those before her. She threw out a hand to stop herself from cannoning into them and, losing balance, tripped over her own petticoats and fell to the carpeted floor, her hat falling off as she did so. She was a lovely girl, attired in deep mourning, and having an expression of profound sorrow on her charming features. She ran from the knave into the women’s quarters. Immediately the soldiers of the major will come from the gate.
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