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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. “What is the good of pretending?” she said. Irreton. "My limbs feel so light, now that my irons are removed," he observed with a smile, "that I am half inclined to dance. ” He said.
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This video was uploaded to extremesport8.info on 11-06-2024 00:35:03
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