om Valentine, and he said, "If ever you are in danger tell me,
and I will pray for you." Valentine then went to Milan with a servant
called Speed, and at Milan he fell in love with the Duke of Milan's
daughter, Silvia.

When Proteus and Valentine parted Julia had not acknowledged that she
loved Proteus. Indeed, she had actually torn up one of his letters in
the presence of her maid, Lucetta. Lucetta, however, was no simpleton,
for when she saw the pieces she said to herself, "All she wants is to be
annoyed by another letter." Indeed, no sooner had Lucetta left her alone
than Julia repented of her tearing, and placed between her dress and her
heart the torn piece of paper on which Proteus had signed his name. So
by tearing a letter written by Proteus she discovered that she loved
him. Then, like a brave, sweet girl, she wrote to Proteus, "Be patient,
and you shall marry me."

Delighted with these words Proteus walked about, flourishing Julia's
letter and talking to himself.

"What have you got there?" asked his father, Antonio.

"A letter from Valentine," fibbed Proteus.

"Let me read it," said Antonio.

"There is no news," said deceitful Proteus; "he only says that he is
very happy, and the Duke of Milan is kind to him, and that he wishes I
were with him."

This fib had the effect of making Antonio think that his son should go
to Milan and enjoy the favors in which Valentine basked. "You must go
to-morrow," he decreed. Proteus was dismayed. "Give me time to get my
outfit ready." He was met with the promise, "What you need shall be sent
after you."

It grieved Julia to part from her lover before their engagement was two
days' old. She gave him a ring, and said, "Keep this for my sake," and
he gave her a ring, and they kissed like two who intend to be true till
death. Then Proteus departed for Milan.

Meanwhile Valentine was amusing Silvia, whose grey eyes, laughing at him
under auburn hair, had drowned him in love. One day she told him that
she wanted to write a pretty letter to a gentleman whom she thought well
of, but had no time: would he write it? Very much did Valentine dislike
writing that letter, but he did write it, and gave it to her coldly.
"Take it back," she said; "you did it unwillingly."

"Madam," he said, "it was difficult to write such a letter for you."

"Take it back," she commanded; "you did not write tenderly enough."

Valentine was left with the letter, and condemned to write another;