Here is the translation of the Roman de Tristan et Iseult of 1900 by Joseph Bedier. Here is the tenth part: Hermit Ogrin.
Hermit Ogrin
Three days later, as Tristan had followed the tracks of a wounded stag for a long time, night fell, and under the dark wood he began to think:
« Non, ce n’est point par crainte que le roi nous a épargnés. Il avait pris mon épée, je dormais, j’étais en sa merci, il pouvait frapper ; à quoi bon du renfort ? Et, s’il voulait me prendre vif, pourquoi, m’ayant désarmé, m’aurait-il laissé sa propre épée ? Ah ! je t’ai reconnu, père : non par peur, mais par tendresse et par pitié, tu as voulu nous pardonner. Nous pardonner ? Qui donc pourrait, sans s’avilir, remettre un tel forfait ? Non, il n’a point pardonné, mais il a compris. Il a connu qu’au bûcher, au saut de la chapelle, à l’embuscade contre les lépreux, Dieu nous avait pris en sa sauvegarde. Il s’est alors rappelé l’enfant qui, jadis, harpait à ses pieds, et ma terre de Loonnois, abandonnée pour lui, et l’épieu du Morholt, et le sang versé pour son honneur. Il s’est rappelé que je n’avais pas reconnu mon tort, mais vainement réclamé jugement, droit et bataille, et la noblesse de son cœur l’a incliné à comprendre les choses qu’autour de lui ses hommes ne comprennent pas : non qu’il sache ni jamais puisse savoir la vérité de notre amour ; mais il doute, il espère, il sent que je n’ai pas dit mensonge, il désire que par jugement je trouve mon droit. Ah ! bel oncle, vaincre en bataille par l’aide de Dieu, gagner votre paix, et, pour vous, revêtir encore le haubert et le heaume !… Qu’ai-je pensé ? Il reprendrait Iseut : je la lui livrerais ? Que ne m’a-t-il égorgé, plutôt, dans mon sommeil ! Naguère, traqué par lui, je pouvais le haïr et l’oublier ; il avait abandonné Iseut aux malades : elle n’était plus à lui, elle était mienne. Voici que par sa compassion il a réveillé ma tendresse et reconquis la reine. La reine ? Elle était reine près de lui, et dans ce bois elle vit comme une serve. Qu’ai-je fait de sa jeunesse ? Au lieu de ses chambres tendues de draps de soie, je lui donne cette forêt sauvage ; une hutte, au lieu de ses belles courtines ; et c’est pour moi qu’elle suit cette route mauvaise. Au seigneur Dieu, roi du monde, je crie merci et je le supplie qu’il me donne la force de rendre Iseut au roi Marc. N’est-elle pas sa femme, épousée selon la loi de Rome, devant tous les riches hommes de sa terre ? »
Tristan leans on his bow, and weeps for a long time in the night.
Dans le fourré clos de ronces qui leur servait de gîte, Iseut la Blonde attendait le retour de Tristan. À la clarté d’un rayon de lune, elle vit luire à son doigt l’anneau d’or que Marc y avait glissé. Elle songea :
“The one who out of fine courtesy gave me this golden ring is not the angry man who handed me over to lepers; no, it is the compassionate Lord who, from the day I landed on his land, welcomed me and protected me. How he loved Tristan! But I came, and what did I do? Shouldn't Tristan live in the king's palace, with a hundred damsels around him, who would be of his mesnie and would serve him to be armed knights? Shouldn't he, riding through the courts and baronies, seek welds and adventures? But for me, he forgets all chivalry, exiled from the court, chased in this wood, leading this wild life! ... "
Elle entendit alors sur les feuilles et les branches mortes s’approcher le pas de Tristan. Elle vint à sa rencontre comme à son ordinaire, pour lui prendre ses armes. Elle lui enleva des mains l’arc Qui-ne-faut et ses flèches, et dénoua les attaches de son épée.
“Friend,” said Tristan, “it is King Mark's sword. She had to slit our throats, she spared us. "
Iseut took the sword, kissed its golden hilt; and Tristan saw that she was crying.
“Friend,” he said, “if only I could make an agreement with King Mark! If he would allow me to maintain by battle that never, neither in fact nor in words, have I loved you with a guilty love, any knight of his kingdom from Lidan to Durham who dared to contradict me would find me armed in a closed field. Then, if the king would suffer to keep me in his household, I would serve him with great honor, like my lord and my father; and, if he preferred to take me away and keep you, I would go to Friesland or Brittany, avec Gorvenal comme seul compagnon. Mais partout où j’irais, reine, et toujours, je resterais vôtre. Iseut, je ne songerais pas à cette séparation, n’était la dure misère que vous supportez pour moi depuis si longtemps, belle, en cette terre déserte.
- Tristan, may you remember the hermit Ogrin in his grove. Let’s go back to him, and may we shout thanks to the mighty heavenly king, Tristan, friend! "
They awakened Gorvenal; Iseut mounted the horse, which Tristan led by the brake, and all night long, crossing the beloved woods for the last time, they walked without a word.
In the morning, they took a rest, then walked again, as long as they reached the hermitage. On the threshold of his chapel, Ogrin read in a book. He saw them, and from afar called them tenderly:
" Friends ! how love tracks you from misery to misery! How long will your madness last? Courage! repent at last! "
Tristan said to him:
« Écoutez, sire Ogrin. Aidez-nous pour offrir un accord au roi. Je lui rendrais la reine. Puis, je m’en irais au loin, en Bretagne ou en Frise ; un jour, si le roi voulait me souffrir près de lui, je reviendrais et le servirais comme je dois. »
Bowing at the hermit's feet, Iseut said in his turn, mournfully:
“I won't live like this anymore. I'm not saying that I regret having loved and loving Tristan over and over again; but our bodies at least will henceforth be separated. "
The hermit wept and worshiped God: “God, beautiful almighty king! I thank you for letting me live long enough to help these! He advised them wisely, then took some ink and parchment and wrote a brief in which Tristan offered a deal to the king. When he had written all the words that Tristan said to him, he sealed them with his ring.
"Who will wear this brief?" asked the hermit.
- I'll wear it myself.
- No, Sire Tristan, you will not attempt this hazardous ride; I will go for you, I know the people of the castle well.
- Leave it, handsome Sire Ogrin; the queen will remain in your hermitage; at nightfall, I will go with my squire, who will watch my horse. "
When darkness descended on the forest, Tristan set off with Gorvenal. At the gates of Tintagel, he left him. On the walls, the lookouts sounded their trunks. He slipped into the ditch and crossed the city at the risk of his body. As in the past, he crossed the sharp palisades of the orchard, saw the marble steps, the fountain and the large pine tree again, and approached the window behind which the king was sleeping. He called her softly. Marc awoke:
"Who are you, you who call me in the night at this time?
- Sire, I am Tristan, I bring you a brief; I leave it there, on the fence of this window. Have your answer attached to the branch of the Red Cross.
- For the love of God, beautiful nephew, wait for me! "
He rushed over to the threshold, and three times cried through the night:
" Tristan ! Tristan ! Tristan, my son! "
But Tristan had fled. He rejoined his squire, and, with a light bound, got into the saddle:
“Crazy! said Gorvenal, hurry, let's flee this way. "
They finally reached the hermitage where they found, waiting for them, the hermit who prayed, Iseut who wept.
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