He stalked her, he stared at her, he craved her, he sidled slinking and propitiatory and yet relentlessly toward her, until at last she awoke from the suffocating nightmare nearness of his approach, and lay awake in fear and horror listening to the unaccustomed sounds of the hotel. Melusine stepped back a pace, her gaze fixed on the vision before her. Tristan dying and Isolde coming to crown his death. As she danced there was in her ears the faded echo of wooden tom-toms.
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