Without a word Tristan started to break away from the friar, his head in a whirl, his senses benumbed. The latter caught him betime.
"What would you do?"
Tristan stared at him as one suddenly gone mad.
"I will see her."
"It is impossible!" the friar replied. "You cannot see her."
From Tristan's eyes came a glare that would have daunted many a one of greater physical prowess than his informant.
"Cannot? Who is to prevent me?"
"The man whom fate gave her for mate," replied the friar.
"That dog—"
"A brawl in the presence of death? Would you thus dishonor her memory? Would she wish it so?"