’ ‘Dieu du ciel! But this is catastrophe. ’ ‘What son?’ asked Roding. Melusine ran up the stairway after him, her point flailing to frighten him into allowing her access to the chapel. She sat in a chair in the parlour and regarded the darkening sky through the small casement window. 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. It is a very small affair, after all, and you can pay me back if you will.
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