But the two combatants fought on. Presently Melot's sword inflicted an ugly wound.
"Ha, master, I will avenge you yet!" cried Kurneval. with a last mighty stroke, delivered as he sank to the ground, he gave Melot his death wound. Then the old knight crept slowly to his master's side and tried to make one last stand there, but sank back and breathed his last.
Just then King Mark burst in at the gate, and paused stricken with remorse at the scene which greeted his eyes. Brangeane, sobbing aloud, ran to her mistress and tried to revive her. The maid was frantic with remorse for she felt as though this tragedy was due to her. She had confessed to the King the secret of the love potion, and he had at once set sail to assure the lovers of his pardon and affection. He understood all at last, but now it was too late.
Brangeane brought her mistress to consciousness, and implored her to greet the King.
"He comes as your friend, and Sir Tristan's," she said; "he is here to aid you."
King Mark then hastened to speak to her, gently and kindly. In his courtesy he asked her pardon for the harm he had unwittingly done.
But Isolde paid no heed to his words. Her gaze was fixed upon Tristan, and when she spoke it was in praise of his constancy and truth. Then she told of a glorious land to which they both were going, where they should dwell free from sorrow and care and heartbreak.
"I know not where it is," she murmured, "but I know my Tristan will be there, and that will be for me a bliss supreme!"
A radiant smile overspread her face as she ended, and with a soft sigh her heart broke and she sank down and nestled her head close against that of Tristan. And while a sunset glory shone through the trees of the old courtyard and illumined the scene, as though it were some radiant picture, those who stood by fancied they could hear strains of music. Near and yet far-off it sounded clear and sweet, rising in soft waves as though bearing the souls of these two weary pilgrims to the land of rest and eternal love.
THE END