at other Iseult, and of hers for him. Then was the
young wife filled with shame that ever she had showed her love for him,
and jealousy raged in her, turning her love to bitter hate, and her heart
hardened so that night and day she longed to be revenged.

Thus a whole year passed away, and Tristram and Queen Iseult loved each
other as dearly as ever; but King Mark in his jealous anger kept them so
watched that they could never see or speak one to the other, and they had
no peace or joy in life, until at last they could bear the pain no longer,
and one day they managed to escape together and to reach the Castle of
Joyous Gard, where the king had no power to reach them, even had he known
where they were hid. Of their love and happiness there no tongue can
tell, and of the peace and joy of their life, for they loved each other
above all else, and when they were together nothing had power to pain
them.

But at last, on a sad, sad day, the trusty Gouvernail came to Sir Tristram
with word that a summons had been sent him from King Arthur, to go to the
aid of Sir Triamour of Wales, for he was sore beset by a monster named
Urgan, and needed help.

Sir Tristram could in no wise, of course, neglect this summons, for that
would have been the direst disgrace to him, and never more in all his life
would he have been able to show himself anywhere but as a treacherous and
loathly knight, and, though it broke his heart to send her from him, La
Belle Iseult loved him too well to have him so disgrace himself.

So they parted; and a sadder parting never had been in this world, for
they knew with a sure and certain knowledge that never again would they be
allowed to meet; and their hearts were full of a love and sorrow almost
too great to be borne. With tears and kisses they said farewell, vowing
each to be true to the other till death, and after.

So Sir Tristram rode away into Wales, and Queen Iseult being discovered by
King Mark, was made to return to him, only to be made a prisoner in the
great grim castle at Tintagel, where all day long she sat sad and lonely,
looking out over the sea, and musing sadly on all the bitterness life had
held for her and for her lover. And her husband, jealous, wrathful, never
slackened his watch over her, night or day.

A harder lot was Iseult's than her lover's, for he had change and action
to distract his thoughts, and all the excitement of battle; but she had
nothing to do but sit and think on