the knight of her love.

Then all at once she fell into bitter weeping as the thought of her
destiny came upon her, and Tristram took her in his arms and kissed her
sweet lips again and again, speaking words of love that brought some
comfort to her love-sick heart. And thus it was between them day by day
to the end of their voyage, for a love had grown between them of such
fervent depth that it could never leave them while blood flowed in their
veins.

Such magic power had the draught which the queen had prepared for King
Mark, and which the unthinking lovers drank in fate's strange error. It
was the bitter-sweet of love; for it was destined to bring them the
deepest joy and sorrow in the years to come.

Many days passed before the lovers reached Cornwall, and strange
adventures met them by the way, of which we have but little space to
speak. For chance brought them to land near a castle named Pleure, or
the weeping castle. It was the custom of the lord of that castle, when
any knight passed by with a lady, to take them prisoners. Then, when the
knight's lady was compared with the lady of the castle, whichever was
the least lovely of the two was put to death, and the knight was made to
fight with the lord of the castle for the other, and was put to death if
vanquished. Through this cruel custom many a noble knight and fair lady
had been slain, for the castle lord was of great prowess and his lady of
striking beauty.

It chanced that Tristram and Isolde demanded shelter at this castle, and
that they were made prisoners under its cruel custom. At this outrage
Tristram grew bitterly indignant, and demanded passionately what it
meant, as honor demanded that those who sought harbor should be received
hospitably as guests, and not despitefully as prisoners. In answer he
was told the custom of the castle, and that he must fight for his lady
and his liberty.

"It is a foul and shameful custom," he replied. "I do not fear that your
lord's lady will surpass mine in beauty, nor that I cannot hold my own
in the field, but I like to have a voice in my own doings. Tell him,
however, if he is so hot for battle, that I shall be ready for the test
to-morrow morning, and may heaven be on the side of truth and justice."

When morning came the test of beauty was made, and the loveliness of
Isolde shone so far beyond that of the castle lady that Breunor, the
lord, was forced to admit it. And now Tristram grew stern and pitiless,
for