e could she
find aught wherewith to quench his thirst. Dame Bragwaine, half dead with
terror of the storm, fatigue, and sickness, lay in a sort of stupor on her
couch, and Iseult, ever kind and thoughtful for others, would not disturb
her to help her in her search. Here and there she sought, and high and
low, but nowhere could she find wine or aught else to drink.

Right vexed and disappointed, she was returning empty-handed to the deck
where Sir Tristram impatiently awaited her, when, close by the couch of
Dame Bragwaine, she spied a beautiful golden flask full of a rich
sparkling liquid. With a cry of relief she snatched it up, and running up
on deck, "Drink, drink," she cried, unloosing the fastening, "the perfume
is intoxicating. Such wine I never before beheld."

"Nay, sweet Lady Iseult," cried Sir Tristram, pressing it back into her
hands; "deign first to put your lips to it; do me that honour, or I will
never taste it." So to her sweet parted lips she raised the flask, and
drank, and then, smiling and glad, she handed it to him.

Alas, alas, unhappy pair, who might have been so happy! No sooner had
they tasted of that fatal drink than through their hearts and brains
poured a love so great, so deep, so surpassing, that never a greater could
exist in this world. And in their hearts it dwelt for evermore, never
leaving them through weal or woe.

At last, alas, after many adventures and many dangers, the happy voyage
ended, the coast of Cornwall was reached, and Sir Tristram had to lead La
Belle Iseult to the king. And King Mark when he saw her was so amazed at
her beauty that he loved her there and then, and with great pomp and
rejoicing the marriage took place at once.

But La Belle Iseult loved none but Sir Tristram, and he her.

For a while all went well, but only for a little while, for King Mark,
told by his knights of the love Queen Iseult and Sir Tristram bore each
other, grew sore jealous of Sir Tristram, and hating him more and more,
longed for a chance to do him harm.

But Tristram gave him no chance, for he was the noblest and trustiest
knight of all the court, and though he fought and jousted continually no
harm came to him until one unhappy day, when he was lying sleeping in a
wood, there came along, a man whose brother Sir Tristram had killed; when
the man saw Sir Tristram lying there asleep he shot an arrow at him, and
the arrow went through Tristram's shoulder.

Sir Tristram was on h