g such damage in the neighborhood
that the king has promised his daughter's hand to the warrior who
would slay the monster.

Nothing daunted, Tristram sets out alone, and beards the dragon in his
den to such good purpose that he kills him and carries off his tongue
as a trophy. But, wounded in his encounter, Tristram soon sinks by the
roadside unconscious. The king's butler, who has been spying upon him
and who deems him dead, now cuts off the dragon's head and lays it at
the king's feet, claiming the promised reward.

Princess Iseult and her mother refuse, however, to believe that this
man--a notorious coward--has performed any such feat, and hasten out
to the battle-field. There they find not only the headless dragon, but
the unconscious Tristram, and the tongue which proves him the real
victor. To nurse him back to health is no great task for these ladies,
who, like many of the heroines of the mediaeval epics and romances, are
skilled leeches and surgeons.

One day, while guarding their patient's slumbers, the ladies idly
examine his weapons, and make the momentous discovery that the bit of
steel found in Morolt's head exactly fits a nick in Tristram's sword.

Although both had sworn vengeance, they decide the service Tristram
has just rendered them and their country more than counterbalances the
rest, and therefore let him go unscathed.

Fully restored to health, Tristram proves the butler had no right to
Iseult's hand, and, instead of enforcing his own claim, makes King
Mark's proposals known. Either because such an alliance flatters their
pride or because they dare not refuse, Iseult's parents accept in
their daughter's name and prepare everything for her speedy
departure. The queen, wishing to save her daughter from the curse of a
loveless marriage, next brews a love-potion which she bids
Brengwain--her daughter's maid and companion--administer to King Mark
and Iseult on their wedding night.

During the trip across the Irish Channel, Tristram entertains Princess
Iseult with songs and tales, until he becomes so thirsty that he begs
for a drink. By mistake the love-potion is brought, and, as Iseult
graciously dips her lips in the cup before handing it to her
entertainer, it comes to pass both partake of the magic draught, and
thus become victims of a passion which naught can cure. Still, as
their intentions remain perfectly honorable, they continue the journey
to Cornwall, and, in spite of all he suffers, Tr