When the rightful Duke was sent into banishment, Frederick, the
usurping Duke, allowed his daughter Rosalind to stay on at Court,
to be a companion to his own young daughter Celia. The cousins had
been brought up together from their cradles, and were so devoted to
each other that if Rosalind had been sent into banishment Celia would
either have followed her or died of grief at the separation. Celia
strove by all the means in her power to cheer her cousin’s sorrow for
the loss of her father, and assured her that when Duke Frederick died
she would never consent to be his heir, but would immediately restore
to Rosalind all that he had wrongfully taken away.
Rosalind’s own nature was too bright and happy to waste time in
useless repining, and her deep affection for her cousin made her
respond very willingly to Celia’s loving attempts at consolation.
The girls’ gay wit and merry chatter never failed, and their leisure
moments found additional food for entertainment in the whimsical
utterances of the Court fool, or jester, Touchstone. Under his
apparent nonsense often lay hidden much quaint philosophy, and
Touchstone found his fool’s motley a convenient cloak for levelling
many a sharp-edged shaft of truth at his hearers.
On the day appointed for the wrestling match, Rosalind and Celia
were among the spectators. Charles had already shown his prowess by
speedily overthrowing one after the other three goodly young men. Now
they all lay on the ground with broken ribs, and their poor old father
made such a doleful lament over his three sons that all the beholders
took his part and wept in sympathy.
When Orlando appeared as the next champion, there was a general
feeling of dismay and compassion. What chance had this slender lad
against the doughty Charles? Duke Frederick, in pity for his youth,
would fain have dissuaded him, but he would not be entreated. Rosalind
and Celia then tried, but even they were not more successful. Orlando
thanked them courteously, but refused to give up the attempt. Since
their entreaties were of no avail, the only thing the ladies could
do was to bestow on him their best wishes, and this they did most
heartily.
The result was a surprise to all. Orlando was the victor, and this
time it was the redoubtable Charles who was carried senseless from the
field.
Duke Frederick was interested enough in the young wrestler to inquire
who he was, but was far from pleased to learn he was a son of Sir
Rowland de Boys. Sir Rowland was an honourable gentleman, but he
had been no friend to the usurping Duke. Rosalind’s father, on the
contrary, had loved Sir Rowland dearly, and by the rest of the world
he had been equally esteemed. Celia was hurt by her father’s churlish
remarks to Orlando, and tried to make up for them by some kind and
gracious words. Rosalind, equally moved, took a chain from her neck
and gave it to the young victor.
“Gentleman, wear this for me, one out of suit with fortune, who could
give more but that her hand lacks means.”
Orlando would fain have expressed his thanks, but some strange feeling
held him speechless. He had overcome the mighty Charles, but he could
not master this stronger champion. He was still musing over what
had passed, when one of the lords-in-waiting, Le Beau, came to him,
and counselled him in friendship to leave the place at once. Duke
Frederick had taken a prejudice against him, and was likely to resent
everything he did.
“I thank you,” said Orlando. “Pray tell me one thing--which of those
two ladies was daughter of the Duke who was here at the wrestling?”
Le Beau answered that it was the smaller of the two ladies. The other
was the daughter of the banished Duke, detained by her usurping uncle
to keep his own daughter company.
“But I can tell you,” continued Le Beau, “that lately this Duke
Frederick has taken a violent displeasure against his gentle niece,
for no other reason than that the people love her for her virtues,
and pity her for her good father’s sake. I am quite sure his malice
against the lady will suddenly break forth.”
Then Le Beau took a courteous farewell, and Orlando went his way, lost
in a dream, and murmuring “Heavenly Rosalind!”
For her part, Rosalind had been equally attracted by the gallant young
wrestler, and when Celia began to rally her about her pensive looks,
she was quite ready to admit the truth.
“In good earnest,” said Celia, “is it possible that you should
suddenly take so strong a liking for old Sir Rowland’s youngest son?”
“The Duke, my father, loved his father dearly,” urged Rosalind in
self-excuse.
“Does it therefore follow that you should love his son dearly?”
laughed Celia. “By this sort of reasoning _I_ should hate him, for my
father hated his father dearly. And yet I do not hate Orlando.”
“No, faith, for my sake do not hate him!” said Rosalind. “Love him
because I do.”
The cousins were interrupted by Duke Frederick, who entered hurriedly,
his eyes full of anger. What Le Beau foretold had come to pass. The
Duke’s displeasure against Rosalind had been growing for some time,
for he was jealous at her being so universally beloved, and alarmed
for the safety of his own position. Now, in a few curt words, he
ordered her to leave the Court, saying that if in ten days’ time
she were still found within twenty miles of it, she should be put
to death. Rosalind was amazed and indignant, but all appeals were
useless. Celia in vain tried to plead for her cousin. Duke Frederick
would listen to no reason. He declared that Rosalind was a traitor,
subtle enough to steal the affections of the people away from Celia
herself, and that once she was gone Celia would shine to far greater
advantage. The sentence he pronounced was irrevocable. Rosalind was
banished.
“Pronounce that sentence, then, on me, my liege,” said Celia. “I
cannot live out of her company.”
“You are a fool!” was the Duke’s contemptuous answer. Then to Rosalind
he added: “You, niece, provide yourself; if you stay longer than the
time, you die.”
When her father left them, Celia again strove to cheer her cousin. She
utterly refused to be parted from her, insisted on sharing her griefs,
and declared that, no matter what Rosalind said, she intended to go
with her.
“Why, whither, shall we go?” asked Rosalind.
“To seek my uncle in the Forest of Arden,” replied Celia.
This was a good suggestion, and in order to avoid the danger of two
high-born and beautiful maidens travelling alone, it was further
agreed that Celia should stain her face brown, and attire herself in
mean apparel, while Rosalind, who was tall of stature, should for
better security, disguise herself as a youth, armed with curtle-axe,
and with a boar-spear in her hand.
“Let what fear there will, lie hidden in my woman’s heart,” she said
gaily, “at least we’ll have a dashing and a martial outside!”
[Illustration: “We’ll have a martial outside!”]
In their new guise Rosalind declared she would take no worse a name
than Jove’s own page--Ganymede; while Celia, in reference to her own
banished state, thought that Aliena would be a very suitable name for
herself.
“Cousin,” said Rosalind, “what if we tried to steal the clownish fool
out of your father’s Court? Would he not be a comfort to us in our
travels?”
Celia was delighted with the suggestion.
“Touchstone would go with me all over the wide world,” she said.
“Leave me alone to manage him. Now let us go and get our money and
jewels together, and devise the fittest time and safest way to hide
from the pursuit that will be made when my flight is known. Come! We
go contentedly--to _liberty_, and not to banishment!”