People sat in unusual pews, and a wide margin of hassocky emptiness intervened between the ceremony and the walls. ” The lights sank, the prelude to the third act was beginning, the music rose and fell in crowded intimations of lovers separated—lovers separated with scars and memories between them, and the curtain went reefing up to display Tristan lying wounded on his couch and the shepherd crouching with his pipe. You know—if you want freedom. ” 29 Gianfrancesco’s father and all of his three brothers had perished.
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