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No umbrella either, the sky was delightfully overcast. "Well, I won't dispute your judgment in such matters, Mr. 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. ‘Come,’ she called. She smiled mechanically at the audience, holding her violin limply, feeling the hot lights on her made-up face. ” “Don’t tempt me,” she said, laughing, and drawing her opera-cloak together. I know my son's voice too well.
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This video was uploaded to adiszena.com on 14-06-2024 00:25:16
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