CHAPTER V. ’ The pathetic sob which accompanied the last word had a signal effect on two of the company at least. 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. At the thought of the major, her tears redoubled and she was obliged to rip off a piece from the remnants of her already maltreated underpetticoats with which to blow her nose and soak the damp from her cheeks. "I yield to fate. "I should be sorry to proceed to extremities," continued Sheppard, again raising the pistol. She thought of an old abandoned barn that she could inhabit further downriver, but shrugged off the idea in disdain.
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