” 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. Knives were worse, especially when you were stabbed back and left traces of your own blood at the crime scene. ‘That is not your affair. ‘No mistaking you this time. For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage. Those with true power were the Oracles. Which is why I wasn’t able to see him until today. Send for Mr. Indeed I am! I would make this country a collective monarchy, and all the girls and women in it should be the Queen. “And yet,” he said, “you bid me talk cheerfully, or not at all.
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