” 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. I said I’d make shirts. Their chit-chat stopped when they reached the bench. You would want me to be clean, if you gave me a thought, that is. ” “Thank you. Her head ached with a hollow pain. “I want my life to be beaten gold just in order to make it a fitting setting for yours.
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