Iseult replied: 

“Silence!  You wrong all knighthood by your words, for you are a fool from birth.  Cursed be the seamen that brought you hither; rather should they have cast you into the sea!”

“Queen Iseult,” he still said on, “do you mind you of your haste when you would have slain me with my own sword?  And of the Hair of Gold?  And of how I stood up to the seneschal?”

“Silence!” she said, “you drunkard.  You were drunk last night, and so you dreamt these dreams.”

“Drunk, and still so am I,” said he, “but of such a draught that never can the influence fade.  Queen Iseult, do you mind you of that hot and open day on the high seas?  We thirsted and we drank together from the same cup, and since that day have I been drunk with an awful wine.”

When the Queen heard these words which she alone could understand, she rose and would have gone.

But the King held her by her ermine cloak, and she sat down again.

And as the King had his fill of the fool he called for his falcons and went to hunt; and Iseult said to him: 

“Sire, I am weak and sad; let me be go rest in my room; I am tired of these follies.”

And she went to her room in thought and sat upon her bed and mourned, calling herself a slave and saying: 

“Why was I born?  Brangien, dear sister, life is so hard to me that death were better!  There is a fool without, shaven criss-cross, and come in an evil hour, and he is warlock, for he knows in every part myself and my whole life; he knows what you and I and Tristan only know.”

Then Brangien said:  “It may be Tristan.”

But—­“No,” said the Queen, “for he was the first of knights, but this fool is foul and made awry.  Curse me his hour and the ship that brought him hither.”

“My lady!” said Brangien, “soothe you.  You curse over much these days.  May be he comes from Tristan?”

“I cannot tell.  I know him not.  But go find him, friend, and see if you know him.”

So Brangien went to the hall where the fool still sat alone.  Tristan knew her and let fall his club and said: 

“Brangien, dear Brangien, before God! have pity on me!”

“Foul fool,” she answered, “what devil taught you my name?”

“Lady,” he said, “I have known it long.  By my head, that once was fair, if I am mad the blame is yours, for it was yours to watch over the wine we drank on the high seas.  The cup was of silver and I held it to Iseult and she drank.  Do you remember, lady?”

“No,” she said, and as she trembled and left he called out:  “Pity me!”

He followed and saw Iseult.  He stretched out his arms, but in her shame, sweating agony she drew back, and Tristan angered and said: 

“I have lived too long, for I have seen the day that Iseult will nothing of me.  Iseult, how hard love dies!  Iseult, a welling water that floods and runs large is a mighty thing; on the day that it fails it is nothing; so love that turns.”