of her pavilion are opened, and there, on the
stern of the vessel, stands Tristan, the enemy whom she loves. From
the masthead comes again the sailor's song. This time it does not
immediately arouse Isolda to fury; for now her purpose is set--to kill
Tristan: take her revenge and end her own life of misery. "Once
beloved, now removed, brave and bright, coward knight. Death-devoted
head, death-devoted heart," she sings, gazing at Tristan; and at the
last words we hear the tremendous death-or murder-theme (_h_), a theme
whose sinister meaning is afterwards unfolded. She sends Brangaena to
order Tristan to come into her tent. He bitterly avoids understanding
her meaning; Brangaena becomes more urgent; Kurvenal, Tristan's
servant, a faithful watch-dog, asks to be allowed to reply; Tristan
says he can. Kurvenal bellows out a song praising Tristan as the
heroic slayer of Isolda's betrothed, Morold. Brangaena precipitately
retreats and closes the curtains; Isolda and she face one another in
the tent, the second nearly prostrate with dismay, the first boiling
with wrath and shame at the insult hurled at her. She now tells
Brangaena the whole of the preceding history--her nursing of Tristan
and his monstrous treatment of her--and finishes with another curse.
Brangaena tries to soothe her; Isolda, outwardly quietened, inwardly
is planning how to carry out her purpose; Brangaena unknowingly
suggests the means. "In that casket is a love potion: drink that, you
will love your aged bridegroom and be happy once again." She opens the
casket; "not that phial," says Isolda, "the other." The poison motive
(_c_) sounds under the agitated upper strings: "the deadly draught,"
Brangaena shrieks: at this point the shouting of the sailors is heard
as they begin to shorten sail; Kurvenal enters brusquely and bellows
at Isolda the order to prepare to land. She refuses to move until
Tristan has come in to ask her pardon "for trespass black and base."
Here she begins to speak in terrible double-meanings: it is not
Tristan's discourtesy on the voyage he must apologise for, but the
more tragic occurrences leading up to his bearing her away to
Cornwall. She orders Brangaena to prepare the draught, and awaits her
victim.

She stands there outwardly composed while one of the finest passages
in the whole of the world's music betrays her inward anxiety and
suspense (_i_). It is useless to describe the scene in any detail: the
words are simple and seeming