“Do you remember the mountains? Do you remember how we loved one another? How intensely we loved one another! Do you remember the light on things and the glory of things? I’m greedy, I’m greedy! I want children like the mountains and life like the sky. But the orchestra had never had a finer hour, and everyone was aware of it. Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow. If she returns to the house from which we took her, her companions will laugh at her and smother her with ridicule. ‘What are you going to do now, Gerald?’ He sipped his wine and shrugged.
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