ation before they die, some attempt at justification
of his so unkind-seeming return to the woman who had nursed and
saved him. "Tristan, shall I obtain amends? What have you to say
to me?" But he is guarded now as earlier; the compulsion of honour
is no less strong upon him than before. "The lady of silence," he
replies darkly, "teaches me to be silent. I apprehend, mayhap,
what she concealed.... I conceal what she does not apprehend!"--"I
shall apprehend the reason of your silence," she exclaims angrily,
"if you mean to elude me. Do you refuse to drink to our peace-making?"

Brangaene has brought the cup. Tristan gazes rigidly into Isolde's
eyes as she approaches him bearing it. "The voyage nears its end.
In brief space we shall stand," her lip curls with irony, "before
King Mark! As you lead me to him, should you not deem it an apt
speech to make: My lord and uncle, look at her well! A meeker woman
you could never hope to win. I slew her affianced, I sent home to
her his head; the wound made by his weapon she graciously healed.
My life lay in her power; the gentle maid made me a gift of it, and
gave her consent to the dishonour and degradation of her country
that she might become your wife. In kind acknowledgment of my good
gifts to her, she mixed me a sweet peace-draught; of her grace she
tendered this to me, to make all offences forgotten!" No, Tristan
can hardly entertain a doubt of the cup's contents which the princess
holds toward him with her ambiguous smile. But her right, aside
from any other consideration, is recognised as indubitable to the
life which she saved. We have from his own lips later what his
emotions were in this moment so pregnant with fate. What we see
is that he stands like a man in a dream. A voice is heard outside
shouting orders to the sailors: "Up with the cable! Free the anchor!"
He starts awake--he rises as if with a spring to the height of
the moment. "Anchor loose!" he cries wildly. "Helm to the stream!
Sails and mast to the wind!" Ay, let go all regards and restraints
of life, since life itself is about to be tossed over. There is zest
in doing it, and then rid at once forever of the puzzling world of
duty and prudence and heart-starvation! He snatches the goblet from
Isolde's hand: "Well do I know Ireland's queen and the magic power
of her arts. I made use of the balm which she proffered, I take the
cup from her now, that I to-day may completely recover. And do you
mark the pledge w