“I do not blame him. “I speak from my heart, and you answer from your brain. ‘Now what?’ The girl’s voice was shaking, and there were, he saw now, angry tears in her eyes. ” 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. Don’t stand gawping, man. You do not make me afraid like this. Mirrors. Never mind. She thought of the marvellous beauty of skin, and all the delightfulness of living texture. She thought of Sebastian who often returned from the charnel house that the outside world had become. ‘Prudence? This name I have heard it spoken. Not fit to be dust on your boots.
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