The two women returned quickly
to the task they had undertaken
of restoring their minstrel to full health.
Their concerns in every way,
with gentle conscientiousness,
were directed to whatever
could possibly be to his advantage.
And soon enough he responded,
regaining his former strength and color.
Isolt now often watched him closely,
taking careful notice
of his stature and bearing.
She stole many a glance
at his hands and countenance.
She noticed that his arms and legs
gave obvious evidence
of what it was he kept so secret—
she saw in him, from head to toe,		10000
what a girl sees in a man,
and everything she saw she liked
and admired approvingly.
When the beauty had completed
her detailed examination
of this specimen so noble,
with such commanding presence,
her heart declared secretly,
"Dear God of miracles,
if there can be any defect
in anything thou hast done
or in thy creation of us all,
then here something is amiss
that a man so magnificent,
whose physique thou hast endowed
with such masterful proportion,
should have to seek a meager living,
driven about aimlessly
from one land to another.
It is only right and fitting
that he should rule some people
or commwealth worthy of him.
Strange things happen in this world—
The power over so many a realm
is wielded by an inferior,
and this fine man has none at all.
Any person so impressive,
if gifted with equal virtues,
should have high honor and possessions.
He has been greatly wronged.
Thou has given him, oh Lord,
a life that doesn't match his body."


Her thoughts often dwelt on this.
Her mother, in the meantime,
had told the king, her father,
the story of the supposed merchant,
as you have already heard it.
She had related everything
in confidence to him
of how it had all come about,
how his one request had been
that he be granted safe passage
on any future occasions
if he should chance to return
to the shores of this kingdom.
Isolt now called Paranis,
her page, and commanded him
to refit Tantris' armor,
polish it all clean and bright,
and see to all his other equipment,		10050
cleaning and putting it in order.
He did this task well and quickly,
preparing it as requested,
and laid it out, ready for use.
Then quietly the maiden came
to inspect and wonder at each piece.
Again it befell Isolt
as destiny would have it,
that she was the first to find
the torment of her heart,
before any others knew it.
It was her heart that directed
the full attention of her gaze
upon that neat display of armor,
and by some chance, I know not what,
she took up the sword, and handled it,
as young girls and children do
out of curiosity,
and so does many a man, God knows.
Drawing it fully out of its sheath,
she looked it over, end to end,
and found a notch in its edge.


She began to examine this odd defect
with growing interest and attention,
until the realization dawned.
"So help me God of all goodness,
I think I have the broken piece
that ought to fit into this gap—
I'll surely see if it does."
She fetched it and inserted it.
The jagged edge of the break
and the shape of that accursed piece
matched each other exactly
as if the two were one whole,
which in fact they had been
no more than two years ago.
The cold fist of an old insult
seized her heart in its grasp.
Her color both blazed and paled
with fury and with anguish,
first deathly pale, then fire-red.
"Ah, desolate Isolt," she sobbed,
"alas for me, and cry havoc!
Who carried this accursed weapon
across the sea from Curnewal?
It was used to kill my uncle,
and the man who killed him was Tristan!
Who could have given it to our minstrel,
the man whose name is Tantris—"


She began to compare the two names,		10100
saying them over in her head,
puzzled by their sound.
"Oh, Lord," she said to herself,
"These two names are confusing me.
I don't know quite what it is—
they sound very like each other.
Tantris," she repeated, then "Tristan.
There's something very mysterious here."
And after she had rolled these words
back and forth across her tongue,
her attention fell on the letters
that occur in both of them,
and found the same complement
in one of them, as in the other.
Then she took from both of them
their syllables separately.
And when she put the last one first,
she found the key to these names.
Now she knew how it was done.
To herself she read "Tristan,"
and then compared it to "Tantris."
And at last she could be certain.
"Yes, yes," the lovely girl exclaimed,
"if this is what's behind it all,
my heart has already told me
it is but a false trick and deception.
How well I knew the whole truth,
once I paid close attention
to his person and behavior
and examined everything 
about him in my heart,
that this man was born a lord!
Who but he would have dared
to return here from Curnewal
into his mortal enemies' hands,
and twice now we have spared him!
Spared?  He shall be spared no more—
This sword will put an end to him!
Isolt, now hasten—revenge yourself!
When he lies dead by the very sword
he used to cut down your uncle,
that will be revenge enough!"
Taking firm hold on its grip,
she went to stand over Tristan
where he was seated in his bath.


"So," she snarled, "Tristan, are you?"
"No, no, My Lady, I'm Tantris!"
"Yes, I know, you're both of them,
you are Tantris and Tristan.
The two are one evil man.			10150
The hurt that Tristan has done me
now goes on Tantris' account—
it's your life for my uncle's!"
"No, no, gentle maiden, no!
For God's sake, what are you doing?
Consider first who you are—
as a lady and a maiden,
if people say you have done murder,
then the delightful Isolt
will be ever dead to honor.
The sun that lights the world from Irlant,
that has brought joy to so many hearts,
ah, then that sun will shine no more!
Woe, the soft white hands—
how does that sword feel to them?"
At this moment, her mother the queen
came bursting in at the door.
"What's this," she said, "what's going on?
Daughter, what's got into you?
Do lovely ladies act this way?
Are you quite out of your mind?
Are you joking?  No, you're angry—
What are doing, holding that sword?"
"Oh, mother, never forget
the heartfelt grief we have borne—
that man is the murderer,
Tristan, who slew your brother.
Now we have the upper hand,
we can take our revenge on him,
drive this sword right straight through him—
we'll never have a better chance!"
"This is Tristan?  How do you know?"
"Oh, yes, I know.  This is Tristan.
This is his sword.  Here, look at this—
and look at this broken piece,
and then tell me who he is.
I just put this little part
back into that confounded crack—
Ahh, I could see, right away,
it fits exactly, like one piece."
—"Oh, what painful memories—
Isolt, why do you bring them up?
Alas, that I was ever born!
And if this is really Tristan,
oh, how I have been deceived!"


Isolt had meanwhile raised the sword
and holding it high, strode toward him.
Her mother turned to her and said,
"No, wait, Isolt, don't do that—
you know, I did make a promise."		10200
—"I don't care, I'm going to kill him!"
"Mercy!" cried Tristan, "lovely Isolt!"
"Ho, evildoer," she scoffed,
"You now cry for mercy, do you?
There's nothing merciful about you,
and now you'll pay me with your life!"
"Stop, daughter!" her mother ordered.
"None of this is quite so simple.
We can't just have our vengeance on him
without breaking at the same time
our word, given on our honor.
Don't be in such a hurry.
He is under my protection,
both as to life and possessions.
However it all came about,
I granted him immunity."
"Please, My Lady," groaned Tristan,
"My Lady, I charge you to remember
how I put my life and holdings
under your security,
and you confirmed and undertook this."
"That's a lie!" shrieked Isolt.
"I know how that bargain went.
Never did she promise Tristan
any safety or protection,
for life or any property."
With this she ran at him again,
while Tristan cried out pitifully,
"a bele Isolt, merzi, merzi!"


But with her mother standing by, 
every inch a royal queen,
he might have been without concern.
Had he sat at that moment
bound hand and foot in his bath,
there before Isolt alone,
he would have been safe from her.
This good, sweet, young thing,
who never knew a woman's ire
or had ever felt real enmity,
how should she have killed a man?
Indeed it was from her pain
as well as from her quick anger
that she made such threats
of what she would have done,
and might in fact have committed
had she had the heart for it.
But it, her heart, just wasn't able
to wreak such violence.
Nor was that heart so kind nor blind
as not to rage in anger and hurt		10250
when she saw there before her
him who had done her such injury.
She heard and saw her enemy,
but still wasn't able to kill him.
Tender femininity
restrained her from doing such a thing.
In her breast there clashed
the two bitter opponents,
these age-old incompatibles,
rage versus womanhood,
which never can be reconciled
wherever they come in conflict.
So when the rage within Isolt
would have gladly slain her foe,
it was stopped by womanhood,
which chided mildly,"nay, do not."
So her heart had two intents,
one heart was both kind and fierce.
The beauty flung the sword aside,
then seized it again, just as quickly.
In her mind she could not decide
between anger and mildness,
which way she should go—
she wanted and she didn't want,
she wished to act and to refrain.
This duel of feelings held the field
until sweet femininity
snatched from rage the victory,
sparing the mortal enemy,
and Morolt went unavenged.