382 ROMANCES. 



(Fig. 309) his nephew. A draught which the two latter have taken without 

 meaning any harm deprives them of the power of obeying the voice of 

 honour and of reason ; they fall violently in love, and the irresistible force of 

 the enchantment which is upon them serves to excuse their fault. King 

 Mark passes his whole time in watching them, in detecting them, and in 

 forgiving them. One day, however, his anger and jealousy are too much for 

 him when he discovers Tristan in the Queen's chamber playing the harp to 

 her. He strikes him from behind with a poisoned dart (Fig. 310), given 

 him by the fairy Morgana, but he is suddenly seized with terror, and retreats 

 in silence. Tristan, though wounded, displays great courage in bidding 

 good-bye to Ysolt, mounts his horse, and takes refuge with his friend Dinas, 

 who receives him in a dying state. The poison has made rapid progress, and 

 Tristan, notwithstanding the care with which he is tended, has become 

 almost a corpse. His friends shed tears over his sad state day and night. 

 The only signs of life in his motionless body are the piercing cries which he 

 utters. The good King Mark has repented him of his cowardly act of 

 vengeance, and regrets having surprised his nephew and wounded him. 

 Moreover, the unhappy Ysolt does not attempt to conceal her sorrow ; and 

 when she learns that her dear Tristan is dying, she openly declares that she 

 will not survive him. 



Tristan feels that his last hour is at hand. He sends for his uncle, to say 

 that he should like to see him, and that he bears him no ill-will for causing 

 his death. King Mark, when he receives this message, exclaims, with the 

 tears running down his cheeks, " Alas, alas ! Woe to me for having 

 stabbed my nephew, the best chevalier in the whole world ! He then 

 repairs to Dinas's castle, where Tristan, whose voice was very faint, said, 

 " This is my last fete ; the one you have so eagerly desired to see." Tristan 

 weeps, and the King sheds even more abundant tears, but consents to send 

 for Queen Ysolt at his nephew's request. Her presence, however, fails to 

 revive his failing forces, and she exclaims, " Alas, dear friend ! is it thus you 



are to die ? " Whereupon he says, " Yes, my lady ! Tristan must die 



Look at my arms ; they are no longer those of Tristan, but of a corpse " 



And Ysolt sobs by his side, praying that she too may die. 



The next day Tristan half opens his eyes, and, like a good chevalier, has 

 his sword drawn from its sheath that he may see it for the last time. " Alas, 

 good sword!" he says, "what will become of you henceforward, without. 



