Stories From Wagner - Story 11 Tristan and Isolde (Tristan und Isolde)

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Episode Transcript

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Story eleven of Tales from Wagner byJ. Walker mac spadden. This LibriVox
according is in the public domain storyeleven Triston and He's Old Triston Outisold.
It will be interesting to compare thisstory with aversion by Mallory. The differences
are characteristic of the distance between thecolder ideals of Mallory and the warmer and

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more human age of Wagner. Onceupon a time a brave Knight of Brittany
went across the English Channel to thecourt of King Mark of Cornwall. The
knight was noted for his valiant deeds, so the king was right glad to
welcome him and attach him to hisretinue. The knight also was willing to

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tarry, for the king had asister, who, because of her beauty,
was called the White Lily. Indeed, the knight had fallen deeply in
love with this fair princess, andso he was overjoyed when at length he
found that his love was returned.He obtained the King's consent to make her
his wife, and after a splendidceremony, the knight and his lady set

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sail for their castle in Brittany.Fate had so smiled upon them that they
thought themselves the happiest people in thewhole world, and that none had been
so favored as they. But aftera few short months of wedded life,
the knight fell sick and died.The poor bride was heartbroken, and although

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a little boy was presently given toher, the child did not assuage her
grief. Instead, he reminded herconstantly of the husband she had lost.
She called the boy's name Tristan,which means sadness. Realizing that she would
soon follow her beloved husband, sheentrusted the boy to a trusty knight,

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Kernival by name, to be takenover to her brother in Cornwall. Shortly
afterwards, she died, and thelittle orphan was convinced to his uncle as
the mother had desired. King Markwas without wife or children of his own,
so he gladly received Tristun into hislonely home. He brought him up
as his own son and publicly proclaimedhim heir to the throne of Cornwall.

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Tristun grew rapidly in beauty and strength, finding so especial a delight in horsemanship
and knightly warfare that by the timehe was fifteen, he could joust with
the best of the knights. Courteousin speech and bearing was he likewise,
for he had been carefully trained bythe Knight Carnival. And so when the

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time of his knighting had arrived,Sir Tristun was already famed for his chivalry
and prowess alike. His name becamea proverb for true knighthood, and there
was no man in Cornwall who couldstand against him. A few years before
this time, King Mark had beendefeated in battle by the King of Ireland,
and had promised to pay him ayearly tribute. Each year. Since

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that defeat, the tribute had beencollected by Sir Morold, a gigantic knight
whom all men feared because of hiscourage and cruelty. His demands grew heavier
year by year, until at lastthey became so great that the whole country
groaned. Thus it went on untilTristan had become a knight, When,

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eager for some splendid service to provehis spurs, he resolved to put an
end to this oppression. So hechallenged the huge warrior to Mortal Kombat.
The challenge was promptly accepted Morald,liking nothing better than a fight, though
as he expressed it, he greatlyfeared this rash youth would not last long

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enough to get his blood warm.King Mark also was fearful of the fate
of his foster son, but theword had gone forth and could not be
withdrawn. The day came for theconflict, and many anxious spectators assembled to
watch the champions fight, the onefor the honor of Ireland, the other
for the freedom of Cornwall. ButMorald did not enter the lists. Fairly

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enraged that anyone should presume to opposehim, he bore a poisoned spear,
which he flung at Tristan without warning. It made a slight wound, which
was unnoticed in the heat of theconflict that immediately began. The young knight
sprang forward with sword drawn and methis towering opponent fiercely, but with the

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most finished skill. Morold soon foundthat he had met more than his match
at sword play, and he tried, by his superior strength to beat down
his antagonist, but in this alsohe was defeated. After a thrilling contest.
At last, growing rash, heraised his sword and brought it about
with a terrific switch that would certainlyhave cut Tristan in two if he had

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not leaped nimbly backward before the IrishKnight I could recover himself. Tristan sprang
forward again, and by one swiftstroke, cut his head from his body.
Cornwall was now free, and insteadof sending his yearly tribute, King
Mark sent the head of Morald backto Ireland to show this freedom for all

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time to come. Now, Moraldhad been betrothed to an Irish princess named
Y's Old, and when his severedhead was received at court, she swore
bitter vengeance against the one who haddone this deed. Looking closely at the
head, she chanced to find abit of sword points sticking in the skull,
and she knew this must have beenbroken from the weapon which had done

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the deed, so she kept thesword point carefully by her in the hope
that it might lead her to findher enemy. Meanwhile, Tristan, though
showered with praises from the court andpeople he had delivered, was faring but
ill. The wound from the poisonedsphere refused to yield. The best physician

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of the country were called in,but the wound only grew more grievous and
painful day by day. Finally,when Tristan was beginning to despair of his
life, an old soothsayer told himto go to the land whence the wound
was received, and there he wouldfind an antidote for the poison. So
Tristan set forth without delay, butknowing that it would not be safe for

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him to travel in Ireland under hisown name, he went alone as Tantris,
a wandering minstrel. The fame ofhis old skill in mixing drafts and
potions presently reached his ears, andhe directed his steps to the court.
Both he sold's mother and maid servantknew the secrets of drugs, and they
had taught her many of these arts. So when a poor minstrel came to

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her attention suffering from a poisoned wound, both her sympathy and skill were enlisted.
And all the more because he seemedof noble bearing and his eyes sought
hers in an appealing way, Oldcalled in her maid, and they undertook
to heal Tristan of his wound,applying many balsams and soothing herbs. It

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was a long time, however,before even their skill availed, and the
harper began to rally from his illness. It chanced one day while he slept,
that his old sat by his side, watching the progress of his fever.
And as she sat there, shehappened to notice the beauty of his
sword hilt, and, wishing toexamine it closely, she drew the sword

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from its scabbard. Suddenly she sawthat a piece was missing from the point.
A thought occurred to her that madethe blood rush to her head.
She hastened to the place where shehad concealed the broken piece and placed it
in the gap. It fitted exactlyshe had been nursing her sworn enemy.
Just then, Tristan called to her, and she turned and went to his

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bedside, with the blade uplifted,ready to strike. Neither spoke, but
he read her purpose to lay himin her face and action. Yet he
did not flinch. He merely lookedup sadly and tenderly with those eyes which
she had found it so hard toresist the first time she ever saw him,

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And instantly she knew not why thesword fell from her hand, clashing
upon the floor. After that,she continued to nurse him more tenderly than
ever, but without either of themsaying a word about the incident. Her
care and skill were rewarded, andat last Tristan was wholly recovered and ready

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to set sail for home. Stillhe did not speak to the princess of
the strange new feeling that possessed him, for he thought that only pity on
her part for his defenseless state,had saved his life. On that day,
when she guessed the truth, hecontented himself with thanking her in the
best phrases his oddly faltering tongue couldrepeat, begged permission to kiss her hand

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in token of the gratitude not utter, and asked leave to return upon some
future day. When he had cometo the court of Cornwall, he found
the king overjoyed to see him,for he had given him up as dead.
To the king and court, herelated his adventures, praising without stint
the beauty and kindness of the princess. He's old. Indeed, he spoke

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with such youthful enthusiasm that it unwittinglyset his hearers to thinking. Some of
the courtiers had long been jealous ofTristan and wished to keep him from the
throne. They had been trying topersuade the king to seek a wife and
thus provide a son of his ownfor the kingdom. Now they urged him
to ask for the hand of theprincess He's Old. It would cement the

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peace of the two kingdoms, theysaid, and from all accounts she was
indeed worthy to be his queen.King Mark pondered long over this advice and
asked many questions of the unsuspecting Tristan. And the more the monarch thought of
it, or the picture of Isoldfilled his fancy. Finally he decided to
send a formal request for her hand, and as Tristan was familiar with the

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Irish court, he was entrusted withthe embassy. The request of the king
sent a sudden chill through Tristan's heart. He realized all at once how much
Isold meant to him. But hisuncle had been a father to him,
and he could not requite his kindnessin any other way than by obedience.
So he gave no outward sign andprepared to execute his hard task. When

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messengers came to Isold and told herthat Sir Tristan was come to seek audience
with her, her heart leaped forjoy. Surely she thought he had come
in his own proper guise, ashe promised to say the things he dared
not utter when he went away.So she hastened to greet him and show
him all graciousness. But when shelearned the truth of his errand her new

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hopes were dashed, anger and pridetook their place that she should be rejected
by this man whom she had caredfor and pardoned, despite her oath of
vengeance. But hiding her emotions,she instantly resolved to go to King Mark
and become his queen, without lettingthe world, least of all Sir Tristan
know how she suffered. To theKing and Queen of Ireland, the news

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of the embassy was welcome. Theyhad become weary of the feud with Cornwall,
and were glad to conclude the peaceand ally their house with that of
King Mark. They received the ambassadortherefore with every sign of honor, and
held feasting and revelry until he shouldconduct the princess to his ship. But

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through it all Isould remained cold andsilent. Her conduct alarmed her mother,
who wished her to be contented inthe new home she was entering. So
the queen brewed a powerful love potion, which she entrusted to Isoul's maid,
bran Geen, telling her to givethe poet to Isould and her husband on
the day of their wedding, whenit would fill their hearts with mutual love

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and cause their after lives to behappy. So Tristan conducted Isould to his
ship and set sail for Cornwall.And of the deep love which had come
to fill his own heart, heuttered no word, nor so much as
by a look or sign, wouldhe betray the trust reposed in him by
his uncle the King. Indeed,Tristan went to the farther side of caution,

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and when the princess was once uponshipboard, he did not linger in
her presence or speak with her,but busied himself with the steering of the
vessel. This courteous reserve Isold didnot understand. She had been accustomed all
her life too much attention and toseeing her lightest wish obeyed, and now

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it angered her more than ever thatTristan, who owed her so much,
should treat her like the veriest stranger. She endured his neglect and sullen silence
until the last day of the voyage, when the ship was within sight of
the shores of Cornwall. Then,despair at the thought of becoming the bride
of a man she had never seen, and anger at the conduct of Tristan

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overcame her in a violent outburst.She lamented her fate and wished that the
waves could rise and swallow her up. Brankeen, her maid, was alarmed
at this unusual mood and endeavored tocalm her. Finally, Isould raised her
head and looked out through the doorway. She was in a pavilion on a

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raised portion of the deck, whichcommanded a view of the entire ship.
As she looked, her eyes restedupon Sir Tristan, who stood at the
wheel steering the vessel. His brown, muscular arms were bare, as also
was his head, save for awealth of soft brown curls. A cloak
fastened about his shoulders swept in gracefulfolds to his feet. His whole frame

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spoke of grace and strength, Buthis clear blue eyes, fastened intently upon
the vessel's course, had a tenselook, almost stern in their sadness.
He seemed, indeed to be fightinga hidden grief. Is Old, pointed
to him and asked, mockingly ofBrangeen, what think you of our fine
hero who, Sir Tristan, Mylady, he is said to be the

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bravest and knightliest man in Christendom.I care not what they say. He
is an arrant coward, Oh,my lady, he is a coward.
I tell you, afraid to meeta woman's eyes conducting me to his royal
master as though I were some kitchenwench. Go you to him and ask
him why he has neglected our presenceand treated us so coldly? Shall I

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request him to attend upon you?No command him? Tell him it is
the Princess is Old who speaks.The maid was reluctant to deliver this message
and walked slowly along the deck,but finally she paused beside the wheel and
said, a message, my lord, from the Princess is Old is Old.

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Tristen started at the name and almostreleased the wheel. Then, recovering
himself quickly, he asked, whatis my lady pleased to say? She
commands you to wait upon her.Tristen paid no heed to the wording of
the message, but bade the maidexcuse him. In all courtesy to her
mistress, saying that he could bestserve her at the moment by steering the

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vessel safely between the dangerous rocks whichlay off the coast of Cornwall. The
gruff old knight Coloneval, who hadattended Tristan upon the voyage, broke into
a scornful laugh when he chanced tohear the message of the princess command forsooth.
He exclaimed, the slayer of Moroldis the vassal of no one be

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she even a queen is Old overheardthis speech, and when her maid returned
to her bearing Tristan's refusal, herpassion knew no bounds. Do you know
who this ingrate is who cannot finda moment's time for me? She cried?
He is the minstrel whose life Isaved in Ireland, and whom you
helped me to nurse. Can itbe possible, exclaimed Broneen. But tis

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strange that I did not know him? Again, that is not the strange
part, continued his old storming,I had sworn to take vengeance upon the
slayer of Sir Marrold. I foundout that he was the slayer, and
yet I pardoned him and This ishis gratitude, my lady, My lady,
said Brongheen, trying to soothe hermistress. Perchance, Sir Tristan is

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not to blame for this. Heis serving his king, and he shows
you only the more honor that heshould woo you for the king instead of
for himself. But I care nota whit for the king. Why should
they all be forcing me into thisloveless marriage, into a life of misery?
No, no, not that,replied Brangdeen eagerly. It was your

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mother's dearest wish that you should behappy. See this casket. It contains
a love potion which she brewed foryou, and which will fill your heart
and that of your husband with thetruest devotion. The sight of the potion
diverditi, Isold's mine into other channels. It reminded her that she herself could
brew drinks and mix powders. Shebegan at once to prepare a deadly poison,

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quietly telling her maid that it wouldmake her forget her unhappy past.
By the time she had finished brewingthis drink of death, the ship had
almost reached its anchorage, and Kernevalentered to announce that they would speedily land,
and that Sir Tristan awaited to escorther to the king. Is Old

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drew herself up proudly. Go backto Sir Tristan, she said, and
say that we await him here.We will not leave this place until he
appears to offer an apology for hisess. Gernaval was moved to make some
retort to this, but, deemingthat diplomacy was the wisest plan, he
returned to Tristan and advised him towait upon the irate. Princess. Is

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Old meanwhile handed the poison flask toher maid, saying, when he comes,
give us to drink from it.We have much to forget, and
I would be at peace with theworld this day. Oh my lady,
what is it you would have medo? Asked Brangeen, terrified by her
mistress's manner, but is Old pressedher hand reassuringly. At that moment,

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Tristan entered, and with tones ofthe deepest respect, he asked what the
princess will was with him, butis Old was in no mood to temporize,
and she reproached him haughtily for histreatment of her during the voyage,
asking what he meant by such neglectto her station. It was such language
as one would address to an underling, and Sir Tristan drew himself up with

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quiet dignity, replying that it wasthe custom in his country when an ambassador
brought a bride home to his lord, to refrain from intruding his presence during
the journey. Isold replied scornfully thatif he was such a strict observer of
custom, he would do well torecall one other which he had overlooked.
What is that, asked Tristan,the blood ransom, She answered, for

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the life of Sir Morold. Butthat feud is healed, he responded quickly.
There is now peace between Cornwall andIreland, but not between Tristan and
is Isold, she retorted, andshe recalled to him the time when he
had sought her care in disguise.How she had discovered his identity by the
broken sword, and yet had sparedhis life and kept his secret when her

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own land was filled with his enemies. His life, she now claimed,
was still forefeit to her. Tristonhad listened to her with varied emotions,
but had made move to interrupt hernow with an indescribable air of sorrow and
hurt pride. He drew his swordand presented it to her handle. Foremost,

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it is the same weapon that slewSir Morald in fair fight, he
said, if you still so bitterlyregret his death and your previous kindness to
me, I pray you slay me. Nay, she answered, her face
growing pale and red by turns.Such deed would ill requite King Mark,
whose ambassador you are. But wewill declare a truce if you will drink

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the usual cup of peace with mebefore we land. And turning to Brangeene,
she commanded her to pour out thedrink. The maid, pale and
trembling, turned to fill the cup. Sounds from without now told them that
the vessel was coming to anchor.Is Old took the cup and handed it
to Tristan. Your unwelcome voyage isover, she said, darkly, looking

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into his eyes. Will you drinkwith me? Triston took the cup.
He knew that Iold had been plottinghis death, and he now suspected that
the drink was poisonous. Yet deathseemed welcome to him at this moment.
I thank you, he said,calmly. I drink in gladness, giving
you my oath of truce for alltime, the honor and the pain of

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Tristan. He put the cup tohis lips and began to drink, But
before he had drunk half its contents, Isold, with a suppressed cry,
snatched it from his hands and drainedthe rest. Then the massive cup fell
to the floor unheeded, and thetwo stood silent, looking at each other.

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Only a few moments they remained thus, And yet it seemed ages to
them the drug had begun to takeeffect in a strange, unaccountable way.
Instead of the icy chill of deathwhich they had expected to sweep through their
veins, there came a wonderful teaingle of life and love and bliss,
all intermingled in a splendid way,drawing each nearer to the other Tristan Isold.

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The cries burst from their lips,as though they were in a trance,
and forgetful of the whole world without. Each sprang forward and was clasped
in the other's arms. Alas whathave I done, moaned Brangheene, wringing
her hands in her terror at givingthe brew whose contents she feared she had
poured the love potion in its stead. Now, she dreaded lest it should

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be the more fatal of the twoin its consequences, but there was no
way of escape. The voices ofthe sailors and soldiers on the nearby shore
proclaimed the fact that King Mark wasat hand. Brangheen hastily seized the robe
and crown which Isold was to wear, and placed them upon her mistress,
urging her to make herself ready.Awakened from her brief dream of happiness,

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Isold suffered herself to be clad inthe royal attire, and led forth,
weak and almost fainting, to meether future husband. The generous and courtly
king received her with every consideration,noting that she was faint and pale,
which he thought due to the voyage. He ordered rooms in his castle to
be set aside for her and hermaids, and he postponed the betrothal feast

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and other public events until she shouldbe strong enough to undergo them. He
and all his court were delighted withthis fair Irish princess, and looked forward
to the time when she should adorntheir throne. The rooms set aside for
her were the choicest in the castle, opening directly out upon a private garden.
Here, the princess was glad totake refuge for a few days,

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and thus put off the wedding aslong as possible. She knew now that
it was the love potion she andTristan had swallowed, and so violent was
her passion that she felt she couldnot live without seeing him. So she
prevailed upon Brangeen to set a signalfor her lover. A light was to
be left burning in the window ofthe tower, and when it was extinguished,

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Triston knew that he would find Isoldin the garden. His love was
no less ardent than hers, andhe impatiently awaited the secret meeting. Now
there was one night in the courtwho had long tried to supplant Tristan in
the king's favor. His name wasMilat, and he was wily and treacherous,
always on the watch to trip upTriston in some way. He had

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noticed his confusion and Zoul's weakness whenthe ship had come to land, and
had rightly guessed the cause. Sohe now sought to surprise the lovers at
a meeting, and then informed theking. Brangheen had noticed Milot's manner and
warned her mistress against him. ButIsold was intent upon nothing else than seeing

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Triston again. Scarcely was darkness comeupon the eventful evening when she bade the
maid to put out the light whichwas to summon him, And when braneen
hesitated, she herself extinguished it.It was a beautiful moonlight night in early
summer, when the flowers were intheir first freshness and fragrance. It seemed

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to the princess that all nature wasrejoicing in her love. She was,
not, however, paying heed tothe blossoms on every side. She was
pacing eagerly back and forth, listeningfor a welcome footfall. She had not
long to wait for Tristan sprang quicklythrough the shadows to meet her. Gladly,
the two greeted each other without reserve, and wandered together down the path,

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talking in low, earnest tones ofthe happiness that had come to them.
As Old confessed that she had plannedhis death upon that fateful day on
shipboard, while Triston said he hadexpected nothing less and would have welcomed it
at her hands. Meanwhile, thefaithful maid had been left upon the tower
to keep watch several times she calledin low warning tones that they would best

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not linger, but the lovers paidno heed to her until bran Keene suddenly
gave a cry of alarm. Atthe same instant, Coloneval rushed upon the
scene withdrawn sword, employing Tristan tofly, but it was too late.
The sound of horns was heard,and the King and Melot appeared, followed
by a hunting party. Is Old, covered with shame, sank upon the

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ground. Tristan stood in front ofher, trying to shield her, but
his own head was bent in trouble, and he did not meet the king's
gaze. What does this mean,demanded the latter. It means that my
doubts have been correct, your majesty, answer to Milot, Sir, Tristan
has not been as faithful a servantas you supposed. Grief was stronger than

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anger in the King's heart. Hehad loved Triston like a son and had
gloried in his nightly honor. Hetold Tristan this in a quiet yet stern
voice, and ended by banishing himfrom the kingdom. Triston was almost heartbroken.
He realized that his punishment had beenbut just, and yet he seemed

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as though one in a dream,powerless to stem this current which was sweeping
him away. He did not answerthe king, but instead turned to Isould
and asked her if she would gowith him into exile. She replied that
wherever he went, there would shego, even to death itself. At

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this new proof of her devotion,Tristan's joy swept away all his doubts and
fears. He drew her tenderly tohim and turned proudly to face the King
and his party. May the Kingand my foster father pardon me out of
his great kindness, he said,in a low tone. But Isold has
elected to follow me, and Ican do nothing less than protect her farewell.

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The king still stood a prey toconflicting emotions, but the traitor Melot,
enraged at the turn of affairs,sprang forward, drawing his sword and
crying, think not to escape soeasily, villain, I will avenge the
king. Ha. It is you, traitor, who would protect the King's
honor, said Tristan, haughtily.Defend yourself, Melot. He drew and

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the weapons clashed sharply. But onlyfor a moment did they meet. Triston
purposely lowered his guard, and beforeanyone could interpose Meelot had struck him with
his sword, disharm him, commandedthe king himself, seizing Melot's arm.
Triston, sorely wounded, sank tothe ground, is Old clinging to him

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and supporting his head. While Kernevalstrove to raise his stricken master. King
Mark gave orders to certain of hisattendants to wait upon Kernaval, and then
strode slowly and sorrowfully away. Herealized all too late the injustice he had
done his nephew and sending him uponthe embassy, but he could not understand

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this breach of faith. It wasso unlike Triston's knightly honor. It seemed
to the old king that he regrettedthis more than the loss of his fair
young bride. Kerneval lost no timein conveying his master to the ancestral home
in Brittany. Triston had become unconsciousand only the promptest care could save his

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life. Kerneval vainly tried to nursehim back to health, but he had
made the mistake of leaving his oldin Cornwall for her. Triston continually called
in his delirium, and her skilland loving care would alone avail to save
him. Karneval soon realized this andsent messengers entreating her to come to Brittany,

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and now, with the return ofthe next ship, he expected her
to arrive on the day when theship was looked for. Triston, who
had awakened out of his fever butwas very weak, lay under a linden
tree. He had wished to lookat the blue sky again, and Kerneval
had carried his couch out in thecourtyard. The place had long been deserted

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and was now overgrown with vines andbushes. The ancient tower was crumbling,
and the huge drawbridge was in ruins. But to Kerneval this was home,
and he hoped that the pleasant airand old surroundings would benefit his master.
Triston was more nearly himself today andasked many questions about how he had come

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here, how long it had been, and when the Lady is Old was
coming. Kerneval told him everything andsaid that the princess was looked for that
very day. A smile broke overTriston's face at this ah, then I
will live, was all he said, and sank into slumber again. Meanwhile,

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the shepherd played upon his pipe onthe rocks below the castle, looking
out to sea. The melody waslow and plaintive, and as Kerneval listened
to it, his heart sank,for he had posted the shepherd there and
bidden him play thus sadly so longas there was no sail in sight.
Now he knew that if Isold didnot come that day, the sun would

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set upon his master for the lasttime. And now, in his delirium,
Tristan was telling of the ship whichwas bringing Isold from Cornwall. Do
you not see it? He asked? Look, the sails are all filled
up, and the ship is steeringstraight for us. How high the waves
pile up about the boughs. Thereon deck is her pavilion, just as

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it was on that other lonely voyage. And see there she stands, looking
eagerly towards me, her hair garlandedwith flowers, and her arms outstretched.
It is my Ezold, mine.She is forsaking all the world and its
thrones to come to the side ofa poor outcast. Ah, why is

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that music so sad? They shouldI merrily upon my wedding day, As
if in answer to his last words, the shepherd on the lookout suddenly changed
his tune and piped shrilly and merrily. The faithful Coloneval sprang to his feet
and ran hastily to the rocks.Yes, there was a broad sail and

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it was heading straight for them,and on the deck stood a slender,
white robed figure that waved a scarf. Unable to restrain himself, Cerneval hastened
back to the sleeping night. Mylord, my lord, he exclaimed,
shaking him gently. Awake. Aship is sailing straight to the foot of
the castle. We hope it maybe. The lady is old. Yes

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it is, my dear lady,answered Triston, sitting up. I saw
her in my dreams. Go toher and welcome her in my stead.
Hasten, good, Colonelval, hasten. Cerneval urged him to be as quiet
as possible and went to obey hiscommands, but Triston could not be patient.
Not knowing what he did, herose from his couch in his exertion,

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tearing his bandages loose and causing hiswound to bleed afresh. He staggered
half way across the courtyard, dizzybut unconscious of pain, For clear as
a bell from the rocks below,he heard his beloved's voice. Tristan,
she is coming, my princess,He muttered, That is the voice I

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have heard in my dream. Hetried to answer her, but could not.
His knees tottered beneath him, andhe groped blindly, as if in
the dark. Tristan called a voicenearer this time, is Old, he
answered softly as he sank to theearth. But the voice, weak as
it was, had reached his beloved'sears, for she was bending over him,

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trying to raise him up and imploringhim to speak to her once again.
See I am here, Tristan,my heart's delight. I came as
speedily as might be, But ohhow slow the ship sailed. Did you
hear my heart calling to you dayand night? Tristan, Tristan, Tristan.

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Now you will get well, Youmust get well, and we will
be ah so happy here in Brittany. But are you not glad to see
me? Beloved? Answer me?But the voice she so longed to hear
again was stilled forever. Is Oldtried in vain to rouse him. Then
a terrible dread seized her. Shesank unconscious across his lifeless body. At

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this moment, Kernival was called fromthe pathetic sight by a great commotion outside,
and the shepherd ran to him,crying that a second ship had come
to land and armed men were disembarking, followed by one who seemed to be
a king. Kerneval's first glance toldhim that it was King Mark himself.
Fearing in his own wild grief thatthe monarch was pursuing the two lovers,

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he resolved to defend the castle gateto his last breath. The first man
to appear was Helotkeroneval drew his swordand rushed upon him. Back thou accursed
spy, he exclaimed. Peace.Fool, said Melot, unbar the gate.
Not to such as thee, retortedthe old knight, and began to
engage him fiercely. Stop them,we come in peace, cried out the

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voice of King Mark. Mistress isOld. It was Brangeene's voice that was
now heard. But the two combatantsfought on presently. Melot's soared inflicted an
ugly wound. Ah, Master,I will avenge you yet, cried Gerneval,
with a last mighty stroke delivered ashe sank to the ground. He

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gave Melot his death wound. Thenthe old knight crept slowly to his master's
side and tried to make one laststand there, but sank back and breathed
his last. Just then King Markburst in at the gate and paused Ricken
with remorse at the scene which greetedhis eyes. Brangeen sobbing aloud, ran

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to her mistress and tried to reviveher. The maid was frantic with remorse,
for she felt as though this tragedywas due to her. She had
confessed to the King the secret ofthe love potion, and he had at
once set sail to assure the loversof his pardon and affection. He understood
all at last, but now itwas too late. Brangheen brought her mistress

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to consciousness and implored her to greetthe King. He comes as your friend
and Sir Tristan's, she said,he is here to aid you. King
Mark then hastened to speak to hergently and kindly. In his courtesy.
He asked her pardon for the harmhe had unwittingly done, but Isolde paid

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no attention to his words. Hergaze was fixed upon Tristan, and when
she spoke, it was in praiseof his constancy and truth. Then she
told of a glorious land to whichthey both were going, where they should
dwell, free from sorrow and careand heartbreak. I know not where it
is, she murmured, but Iknow my Triston will be there, and

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that will be for me a blisssupreme. A radiant smile overspread her face
as she ended, and with asoft sigh, her heart broke, and
she sank down and nestled her headclose against that of Triston. And while
a sunset glory shone through the treesof the old courtyard and illumined the scene

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as though it were some radiant picture. Those who stood by fancied they could
hear strains of music near and yetfar off. It sounded clear and sweet,
rising in soft waves, as thoughbearing the souls of these two weary
pilgrims to the land of rest andeternal love. End of Story eleven.

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End of Tales from Wagner by JayWalker mcspadden