‘You are rude, and stupide, and altogether a person with whom I do not wish to speak. But you,” he continued, moving imperceptibility a little nearer to her, “you are mine. ” Anna smiled very faintly. ” 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. Surely his calculated desire to sit near her meant that his attention had surely been brought from its normal diversions into her realm.
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