“Pump, pump, per-um-pump, Pum, Pump, Per-um. Why are you doing all this?’ To his surprise, Melusine relaxed back, emitting a laugh that sounded perfectly genuine. " "Poor child!" muttered Trenchard, abstractedly; "the whole scene upon the river is passing before me. ” 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.
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