We all sat silent, busy with our thoughts, and then Isolda shuddered.
No; thank you, said Isolda, firmly, one lot is enough for me.
On board Isolda,— see, she smiles— with the cup that reconciles.
Nay, order him: pray, understand it:— I, Isolda do command it!
She opens the casket; "not that phial," says Isolda, "the other."
Tristan and Isolda know they are wending to death, and are content.
The sublime is again touched when Tristan asks Isolda to follow him and in her answer.
Isolda sends for Tristan and tells him he has wronged her, and begs him to drink the cup of peace with her.
He is himself wounded, and by chance it is Isolda, "a skilful leech," who nurses him back to health.
Kurvenal bellows out a song praising Tristan as the heroic slayer of Isolda's betrothed, Morold.
