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. Her back arched and she felt herself instinctively sinking into him. It was then, I am sure, empty. She was, by certain signs, charged with anger, but she saw upon the faces of these two young fools the look of angels and an ineffable kindness breathed upon her withered heart. "And had you been the worst scoundrel unhung, I'd have seen to it that you had the same care, the same chance. " Ruth turned back toward the stairs. He cocked an eyebrow.
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