" Himself. I’m a soldier, you see. All through the love music of the second act, until the hunting horns of Mark break in upon the dream, Ann Veronica’s consciousness was flooded with the perception of a man close beside her, preparing some new thing to say to her, preparing, perhaps, to touch her, stretching hungry invisible tentacles about her. ” He paused, and went on, after a keen look at her: “I had rather gossip to a really intelligent girl than to any man alive. 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. The beautiful city that she had been awed by and even grown to love had been abandoned. ‘That is true,’ Melusine conceded. For hours after she had not been sensible to life, only to exquisite echoes.
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