put it secretly into Brangien's hands,
and the Queen was so pleased that she gave ten marks of gold to the
harper, but she put it about that the Queen of Ireland, her mother,
had sent the beast. And she had a goldsmith work a little kennel for
him, all jewelled, and incrusted with gold and enamel inlaid; and
wherever she went she carried the dog with her in memory of her
friend, and as she watched it sadness and anguish and regrets melted
out of her heart.

At first she did not guess the marvel, but thought her consolation was
because the gift was Tristan's, till one day she found that it was
fairy, and that it was the little bell that charmed her soul; then she
thought: "What have I to do with comfort since he is sorrowing? He
could have kept it too and have forgotten his sorrow; but with high
courtesy he sent it to me to give me his joy and to take up his pain
again. Friend, while you suffer, so long will I suffer also."

And she took the magic bell and shook it just a little, and then by
the open window she threw it into the sea.

ISEULT OF THE WHITE HANDS

Apart the lovers could neither live nor die, for it was life and death
together; and Tristan fled his sorrow through seas and islands and
many lands.

He fled his sorrow still by seas and islands, till at last he came
back to his land of Lyonesse, and there Rohalt, the keeper of faith,
welcomed him with happy tears and called him son. But he could not
live in the peace of his own land, and he turned again and rode
through kingdoms and through baronies, seeking adventure. From the
Lyonesse to the Lowlands, from the Lowlands on to the Germanies;
through the Germanies and into Spain. And many lords he served, and
many deeds did, but for two years no news came to him out of Cornwall,
nor friend, nor messenger. Then he thought that Iseult had forgotten.

Now it happened one day that, riding with Gorvenal alone, he came into
the land of Brittany. They rode through a wasted plain of ruined walls
and empty hamlets and burnt fields everywhere, and the earth deserted
of men; and Tristan thought:

"I am weary, and my deeds profit me nothing; my lady is far off and I
shall never see her again. Or why for two years has she made no sign,
or why has she sent no messenger to find me as I wandered? But in
Tintagel Mark honours her and she gives him joy, and that little fairy
bell has done a thorough work; for little she remembers or cares for
the joys and the mourning of