I am having to piece this post together after the fact, based on emails from Tutor, and interpretations provided by my colleague, Dr. Amrit Chadwallah, Senior Adjunct in Charge of Hidden Meanings in Wealth Bondage: All We Know of Good. Apparently, Tutor was in Audrey's room, after dinner, watching from her arched window as the last sliver of sun set below the waves. From the ramparts above came the haunting sound of Tess's flute, as if it were the soundtrack of a movie whose title was, "Hope." Tutor felt such yearning, as I have never known in him all these years. Dr. Amrit Chadwallah pointed me, by way of interpretation to Neoplatonism, to Petrarch and Laura, Dante and Beatrice, Sir Philip Sydney's "Astrophil and Stella," Yeats and Maude Gonne. I trust his scholarship, but Tutor, though a priest, goes back much earlier. What Tutor told me was that he has heard such a tune, but once, and that was long before the pagan gods usurped Olympus from the Titans. It was off the coast of Thrace, where the forests grew down to the beach. Pan's pipes, the Great God Pan, now long since dead. When Tutor, shaken, turned from the window, there like a wild thing was Audrey, red hair flying, dancing a dance of her own devising to her mother's song.
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