But your role would have been to go about saying, ‘I beg your pardon’ in a reproving tone to things you understood quite well in your heart and saw no harm in. ” 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. And the fact that it was dressed in riding gear had fooled her into thinking it was her own image. You'll have it down. All the rest of his existence was subordinate to this pursuit; he lived for it, worked for it, kept himself in training for it.
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