Now let us return to the surveillance.
As you have already heard, 
for Isolt and Tristan
surveillance was so irksome,
the prohibition so painful,
that they schemed more than ever
as to how they might meet,
until they accomplished it
much to their sorrow—
their tryst cost them
pain and mortal suffering.
It was at a certain noontide
that the sun shone hotly
on the undoing of their honor.
Two kinds of sun threw
their radiance upon the heart
and mind of the queen,
one the sun, the other Passion.
Sensual yearning, the noon heat,
competed to oppress her.
She thought to avoid this strife
between the heat and her thoughts
by a clever stratagem,
but fell into the midst of it.
She searched in her orchard
for the right situation,
a place that would provide shade
as well as seclusion
advantageous to her purpose,
where it would be cool and private.
As soon as she had found it,
at once she ordered a bed,
rich and fine, to be made there.
Costly quilts and linen,
bright silk and brocade,
bedclothes for royalty,			18150
were luxuriously spread there.
As soon as this couch
had been laid to perfection,
the blonde queen lay down,
clad only in her shift.
She dismissed her maidservants
to return to their quarters,
while Brangaene alone remained.

A message was composed for Tristan,
that he should by no means omit
to come and speak with her at once.
He made the same mistake as Adam—
the fruit his Eve offered him
he took, and ate, fatally.
He came, and Brangaene went
to sit together with the ladies,
very anxious and troubled.
She directed the chamberlain
to close and lock all the gates
and told him to admit no one
unless she herself allowed it.
When the gates had been shut,
Brangaene went to sit back down,
much preoccupied with thoughts
deeply troubling to her mind,
since neither fear nor surveillance
were able to dissuade her lady.
While she sat in reflection,
one of the servants went outside,
when, almost immediately,
the king shouldered his way in,
inquiring after the queen
most insistently.
Several hastened to reply,
"she sleeps, Sire, I believe."
Brangaene, fearing the worst,
was badly shaken and kept silent.
Her head sank to one side,
her hands and heart grew numb.
"Tell me then," the king replied,
"where is the queen sleeping?"
They motioned him toward the garden,
to which the king at once proceeded.
There he saw his heart's dismay.
He found his wife and nephew
locked in each other's arms
in very close embrace,
her cheek against his cheek,
her mouth on his mouth.
As far down as he could see,		18200
what the coverlet revealed
showing above the bedsheets
at the head of the bed,
their arms and their hands,
their shoulders and their breasts
were pressed closely to one another
as though the two were joined together.
Had a cast of them been poured
in bronze or in gold,
they could not have appeared
more seamlessly united.
Tristan and the queen
were wrapped in sweet slumber,
I know not after what exertion.