” 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. He pulled down a chair to her left. Then for a time she sat very still. “It spreads like wildfire. I will remember them, Sebastian, along with my mother and father, and all the others I came to love and lose. You've caught the colour and the life. Not a moment is to be lost. ” She gave herself permission now to look at this squarely. “Just remember, I have to make this up to you. Besides, it is all reversed now, you know.
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