The music confused and distracted her, and made her struggle against a feeling of intoxication. It was a purse. The pearls were really yours?" "They were left to me by my mother. ” He was silent for some moments. What else could one say? I left him to suppose—a registry perhaps. 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 remained by the door until the walls of the city swallowed the bobbing lantern. To think of him as loving her would make all that different. Now she was to be married to him and it horrified her.
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