ly direct; the marvellous music alone
reveals their fateful, fearful significance. Isolda asks Tristan to
sink the ancient quarrel between them--caused by the slaying of
Morold--and drink a cup together; he knows perfectly well a large part
of her meaning--that she means to poison him. Whether she herself
intends what presently occurs no one can tell: I doubt whether Wagner
knew much or cared at all. Tristan knows how great is the crime he
must make amends for: not merely Morold's death, but the winning of
Isolda's heart, the desertion, the cruel coming to claim her as his
uncle's bride; he says he will drink--only in oblivion can he find
refuge from the toils in which he has involved himself; he lifts the
cup to his lips, drinks, and as he drinks Isolda, crying "Betrayed,
even here," snatches the cup from him and drains it.

Brangaena has betrayed her: the cup contains not the poison but the
love-potion. In this stroke there is no fairy-tale or pantomime
foolery. The course the drama now pursues is determined not by a magic
draught, a harmless infusion of herbs, but by the belief of the
lovers that they have taken poison and are both doomed. Whether
Tristan had previously known Isolda to love him does not matter: he
knows it now. It has been remarked that the language is ambiguous: or
rather, Isolda in her rage may easily be supposed to go beyond the
truth when she speaks of having exchanged love-vows with Tristan. She
knows that he loves her. They have only a few minutes to live and to
love: why not speak? They stand gazing at one another in a state of
tremulous emotion, and at last rush into each other's arms. The hoarse
voices of the sailors are heard outside hailing King Mark; the ship
has reached land; Brangaena enters, and is horrified to find that
_both_ have taken the potion; the pair cling to one another; a stream
of the most passionate music in existence sweeps on: Brangaena tries
to attire Isolda in the royal cloak; Kurvenal shouts to Tristan that
the king is coming; Tristan can understand nothing--"What king?" he
asks; the deck is crowded with knights; and the curtain falls as the
lovers embrace and the trumpets announce the arrival of King Mark.

Before dealing more fully with the music of this act let me quote a
few words I wrote elsewhere on the dramatic course of the whole opera.
"The end of each act sees the lovers in a situation which is at heart
the same, though in externals different. Rapt in each