She was posing before the mirror, critically, miserably, defensively, and perhaps bewilderedly. ‘Why, what have I said?’ ‘You said to me my name. “You are very stupid, Anna,” she said. She longed to own something lasting, anything, but knew her wishes to be stupid. Seemed like he knew so much—more than me, miss. E. Leonardo had taught her pretty well everything she could have need to know, when they had talked long at his bedside. I do not choose the vicomte, for that would be foolish. Your mother, for instance, couldn’t. There is nothing but your pride which stands between us. Her eyes quizzed the major. He asked her whether she understood what she was saying, and went on to say still more precisely that she should never touch a penny of his money until she came home again—not one penny. “Maybe we could swing a scholarship to Boston College for you, you know, with your violin and all. ’ ‘Then you’re mad,’ Roding said flatly, and suddenly grinned. 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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