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216 “Please, get dressed. ” “Sooner or later. I asked her to marry me, and she consented. A very small settlement, mostly natives. ’ ‘Mercy me,’ gasped the nun. 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 had trembled on the verge of such a resolution before, but this time quite definitely she made it.
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