Those were dark days for the lady Silvia: her lover Valentine
banished, she herself kept in close imprisonment by her angry and
tyrannical father, threatened with marriage to a suitor whom she hated
and despised. What prospect of release could she look forward to?
But she was not without courage, and she was not without hope.
At the Court of Milan there was one friend on whom she could rely--the
kind Sir Eglamour, a gentleman, valiant, wise, compassionate,
well-accomplished; one who had himself known sorrow, for his lady and
true love had died, and his heart still mourned her memory.
Silvia told this gentleman that she was anxious to go to Valentine--to
Mantua--where she had heard he was staying, and because the ways
were dangerous she begged him to accompany her, in whose faith and
honour she trusted. Pitying her distress, and knowing that the Duke
was acting cruelly in trying to force his daughter into an unworthy
marriage, Sir Eglamour willingly agreed, and it was arranged they
should start that evening.
Sir Eglamour had scarcely left Silvia, when the messenger arrived
from Proteus to claim the portrait which Silvia had promised. And who
should Proteus have chosen for this errand but his new young page,
Sebastian, whom he little thought was his own dear lady Julia in
disguise. Not only this, but he also entrusted a ring to Sebastian to
give to Silvia, and this ring was no other than the one which Julia
had given to him when they parted, and which he had received with so
many protestations of affection and vows of fidelity.
Julia, or Sebastian, as we ought now to call her, was nearly
heart-broken at the task imposed on her, but she carried it through
faithfully. And in one way she met with her reward. For the noble
lady Silvia showed no pleasure at this proof of Proteus’s affection,
only scorn and indignation at his treachery to his own love. She gave
her portrait, as she had promised it, but she tore up his letter in
contempt, without even reading it; and as for the ring, she refused to
accept it.
“Madam, he sends your ladyship this ring,” said the pretty lad
Sebastian.
“The more shame for him that he sends it me!” said Silvia warmly. “For
I have heard him say a thousand times that Julia gave it him at his
departure. Though his false finger have profaned the ring, mine shall
never do his Julia so much wrong,” she declared.
Julia was deeply touched and grateful at Silvia’s generous sympathy,
and still more so when the lady went on to question her about Julia,
and to say how much she felt for her and pitied her.
“Alas, poor lady, desolate and left! I could weep for her,” she
said. “Here, youth, there is my purse. I give you this for your sweet
mistress’s sake, because you love her. Farewell!”
“And she shall thank you for it if ever you know her,” cried Julia,
as Silvia retired with her attendants. “A virtuous gentlewoman, mild
and beautiful! I hope my master’s suit will be but cold, since she
respects my mistress’s love so much.”
And somewhat comforted she returned to Proteus.
* * * * *
Silvia fled that night, as she had arranged with Sir Eglamour. The
news soon reached her father’s ears, and he immediately set out in
pursuit of her, the party also including Sir Thurio, Proteus, and
Sebastian. But in crossing a dangerous forest Sir Eglamour and Silvia
had been seized by a band of outlaws. Sir Eglamour contrived to make
his escape, but the outlaws were conveying Silvia to their chief,
when Proteus came up with them and with some difficulty rescued their
captive.
Now, the captain of these outlaws was no other than Valentine. On his
way to Mantua he had been taken prisoner by the band, who, seeing that
he was a brave and accomplished gentleman, had begged him to be their
chief. Finding that they were not really bad men, but had been driven
to this method of life by reckless behaviour in their youth, which had
caused them to be banished from Milan, Valentine consented.
“I accept your offer, and will live with you,” he said, “provided that
you do no harm to women or poor travellers.”
“No; we detest such vile practices,” said one of the outlaws. “Come,
go with us. We will take you to the rest of our crew, and show you all
the treasure we have got, and everything shall be at your disposal.”
On the day when the adventure occurred to Sir Eglamour and Silvia,
Valentine happened to be alone, when, unseen by them in the thickness
of the forest, he saw Proteus approaching with Silvia and the little
page Sebastian.
“Madam,” he heard Proteus say, “I have done this service for you and
risked my life, though you do not respect anything that your servant
does. Grant me but a kind look for my reward. I cannot ask a smaller
boon than that, and less than that I am sure you cannot give.”
“This is like a dream!” thought Valentine, aghast at his friend’s
treachery. But he tried to wait patiently for a few minutes to see
what would happen.
“Oh, miserable, unhappy that I am,” sighed Silvia.
“And I too!” murmured the poor little page, apart.
“Had I been seized by a hungry lion, I would rather have been a
breakfast to the beast than have false Proteus rescue me!” cried
Silvia. “Oh, heaven, be judge how I love Valentine, whose life is as
dear to me as my soul! And just as much--for it cannot be more--do I
detest false, perjured Proteus! Therefore begone; entreat me no more.”
Seeing there was no chance of winning Silvia by fair words, Proteus,
in a rage, seized hold of her roughly, whereupon Valentine sprang
forth and struck him back.
“Ruffian, let go that rude, uncivil touch! Thou evil-fashioned
_friend_!”
“Valentine!”
[Illustration: “Treacherous man! Thou hast beguiled my hopes.”]
“You miserable _friend_, without faith or love!” continued Valentine,
hurling his scorn on the convicted traitor. “Treacherous man! Thou
hast beguiled my hopes! Nothing but my own eyes would have made me
believe what I see. Now I dare not say I have one living friend,--whom
could I trust, when the one nearest my heart is perjured? Proteus,
I am sorry I must never trust thee more, but for thy sake count the
whole world a stranger. Alas, that amongst all foes a _friend_ should
be the worst!”
Proteus’s easily-moved nature was struck to the heart by Valentine’s
just reproaches. With deepest remorse, he implored Valentine’s pardon,
and so noble and generous was Valentine that he forgave him on the
spot. Nay, more, in the impulse of the moment he even offered to
resign his own claim on Silvia. The thought that Proteus would now
really be lost to her for ever, struck Julia like a blow, and she fell
fainting to the ground.
“Look to the boy,” said Proteus.
“Why, boy, how now? What’s the matter? Look up! Speak!” said Valentine.
“Oh, good sir, my master charged me to deliver a ring to Madam Silvia,
which because of my neglect was never done,” said Julia, in her guise
of the little page.
“Where is that ring, boy?” asked Proteus.
“Here it is--this is it.”
“How? Let me see. Why, this is the ring I gave to Julia.”
“Oh, cry you mercy, sir, I have made a mistake,” said Julia,
pretending to discover her error, and holding out another one. “_This_
is the ring you sent to Silvia.”
“But how did you come by this ring?” asked Proteus, looking at the
first one. “When I left Verona I gave this to Julia.”
“And Julia herself gave it to me, and Julia herself has brought it
here.”
“How? Julia!”
“Behold her to whom you swore so many vows, and who kept them tenderly
in her heart! How often have you perjured yourself!” cried Julia,
throwing off her disguise. “Oh, Proteus, let these clothes make you
blush! Are you ashamed that I have put on the raiment of a boy? I tell
you, it is less shameful for women to change their guise than men
their minds!”
“Than men their minds!” echoed the conscience-stricken Proteus. “That
is true.”
“Come, come, give me each your hand,” interposed Valentine. “Let me
be blest in making a happy ending. It were pity that two such friends
should be long foes.”
“Bear witness, Heaven, I have my wish for ever!”
said Proteus solemnly.
“And I mine,” said Julia.
And it is to be hoped that this time the fickle gentleman kept
faithful to his lady.
* * * * *
Matters had scarcely come to this happy conclusion, when the outlaws
approached, bringing as captives the Duke of Milan and Sir Thurio.
“A prize! a prize! a prize!” shouted the outlaws.
“Forbear, forbear, I say! It is my lord, the Duke of Milan,” said
Valentine. “Your Grace is welcome to a man disgraced,” he added
courteously.
“Sir Valentine!”
“Yonder is Silvia, and Silvia’s mine!” interrupted Sir Thurio,
pressing rudely forward.
“Stand back!” commanded Valentine. “Come near, at your peril! Do not
dare to call Silvia yours! Here she stands: I dare you to touch her,
or even to come near.”
“Sir Valentine, I care not for her--I!” said Thurio, quite cowed. “I
hold him but a fool who will endanger himself for a girl who does not
love him. I claim her not, and therefore she is yours.”
“The more base of you to act as you have done, and then to leave her
on such slight excuse!” said the Duke indignantly. “Now, by the honour
of my ancestry, I applaud your spirit, Valentine; you are worthy of
an Empress’s love. Know, then, I cancel here all that has passed, and
summon you home again Sir Valentine, you are a gentleman. Take you
your Silvia, for you have deserved her.”
“I thank your Grace; the gift has made me happy. I now beg you, for
your daughter’s sake, to grant one boon that I shall ask of you.”
“I grant it you for your own, whatever it be,” said the Duke.
Then Valentine begged him to pardon the band of outlaws and recall
them from exile.
“They are reformed, civil, full of good, and fit for great
employment,” he said.
The Duke willingly granted his pardon, and then the whole party
returned happily to Milan, where the same day wedding feasts were
appointed for the two marriages--Valentine with Silvia, and Proteus
with Julia.