And a ballot-box—” Her face assumed an expression of intellectual conflict. “Bohemianism is the least understood word ever coined. Don’t you care for Nigel at all?” Anna was silent for a moment or two. 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. ‘I wish you joy of the wench. But her heart kept on sinking.
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