[Musical excerpt—­“Von einem Kahn, der klein und arm”]

The thought of her humiliation maddens the high-spirited woman, and she sends her maid, Brangane, to summon the knight into her presence.  The knight parleys diplomatically with the messenger.  Duty keeps him at the helm, but once in port he will suffer no one but himself to escort the exalted lady into the presence of the king.  At the last the maid is forced to deliver the command in the imperious words used by her mistress.  This touches the pride of Tristan’s squire, Kurwenal, who asks permission to frame an answer, and, receiving it, shouts a ballad of his master’s method of paying tribute to Ireland with the head of his enemy; for the battle between Tristan and Morold had grown out of the effort made by the latter to collect tribute-money from England.  It is a stiff stave, rugged, forceful, and direct, in which the spirit of the political ballad of all times is capitally preserved.

Isolde resolves to wipe out what she conceives to be her disgrace by slaying Tristan and herself.  Brangane tries to persuade her that the crown of Cornwall will bring her honor, and when Isolde answers that it would be intolerable to live in the presence of Tristan and not have his love, she hints that her mother had not sent her into a strange land without providing for all contingencies.  Isolde understands the allusion to her mother’s magical lore, and commands that a casket be brought to her.  Brangane obeys with alacrity and exhibits its contents:  lotions for wounds, antidotes for poisons, and, best of all,—­she holds a phial aloft.  Isolde will not have it so; she herself had marked the phial whose contents were to remedy her ills.  “The death draught!” exclaims Brangane, and immediately the “Yo, heave ho!” of the sailors is heard and the shout of “Land!” Throughout this scene a significant phrase is heard—­the symbol of death:—­

[Musical excerpt]

Also the symbol of fate—­a downward leap of a seventh, as in the last two notes of the brief figure illustrative of the glance which had inspired Isolde’s fatal love.

At sight of land Tristan leaves the helm and presents himself before Isolde.  She upbraids him for having avoided her during the voyage; he replies that he had obeyed the commands of honor and custom.  She reminds him that a debt of blood is due her—­he owes her revenge for the death of Morold.  Tristan offers her his sword and his breast; but she declines to kill the best of all Marke’s knights, and offers to drink with him a cup of forgiveness.  He divines her purpose and takes the cup from her hand and gives this pledge:  Fidelity to his honor, defiance to anguish.  To his heart’s illusion, his scarcely apprehended dream, will he drink the draught which shall bring oblivion.  Before he has emptied the cup, Isolde snatches it from his hands and drains it to the bottom.  Thus they meet their doom, which is not death and surcease of sorrow, as both had believed, but life and misery; for Brangane, who had been commanded to pour the poison in the cup, had followed an amiable prompting and presented the love-potion instead.  A moment of bewilderment, and the fated ones are in each other’s arms, pouring out an ecstasy of passion.  Then her maids robe Isolde to receive the king, who is coming on board the ship to greet his bride.