END OF THE FIRST EPOCH. He thought of his wealth for once from a different point of view. “I’ve been thinking—all the afternoon. You have just passed through rather a severe physical struggle; just as previously to your collapse you had gone through some terrific mental strain. “Stop!” He ran towards her. 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. Besides, it was under false pretences. As for that, what man ever had? "That's a remarkable young woman," he offered, merely to note what effect it would have. "You're only twenty—not legally of age.
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