"I give you one minute for reflection. ” The lights sank, the prelude to the third act was beginning, the music rose and fell in crowded intimations of lovers separated—lovers separated with scars and memories between them, and the curtain went reefing up to display Tristan lying wounded on his couch and the shepherd crouching with his pipe. This done, she waited at the side of the bed; but he gave no sign that he was conscious of her nearness.
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