"I could hang him now if I liked. His wife's portrait had been removed from the walls, and the place it had occupied was only to be known by the cord by which it had been suspended. . The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity. 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.
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This video was uploaded to adiszena.com on 27-04-2024 12:39:48
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