Such a mystery as you have set up. ‘Mad as hatters!’ ‘It is you who is mad,’ mademoiselle told him crossly. It comes over the mountains, Anna, pink darkening into orange red, everywhere a wonderful cloud sea, scintillating with colour. . ” 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. . “If you say so, Lucy.
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