tion, and the Duke assured him that his name would not be
divulged.

Early that evening the Duke summoned Valentine, who came to him wearing
a large cloak with a bulging pocket.

"You know," said the Duke, "my desire to marry my daughter to Sir
Thurio?"

"I do," replied Valentine. "He is virtuous and generous, as befits a man
so honored in your Grace's thoughts."

"Nevertheless she dislikes him," said the Duke. "She is a peevish,
proud, disobedient girl, and I should be sorry to leave her a penny. I
intend, therefore, to marry again."

Valentine bowed.

"I hardly know how the young people of to-day make love," continued the
Duke, "and I thought that you would be just the man to teach me how to
win the lady of my choice."

"Jewels have been known to plead rather well," said Valentine.

"I have tried them," said the Duke.

"The habit of liking the giver may grow if your Grace gives her some
more."

"The chief difficulty," pursued the Duke, "is this. The lady is promised
to a young gentleman, and it is hard to have a word with her. She is, in
fact, locked up."

"Then your Grace should propose an elopement," said Valentine. "Try a
rope ladder."

"But how should I carry it?" asked the Duke.

"A rope ladder is light," said Valentine; "You can carry it in a cloak."

"Like yours?"

"Yes, your Grace."

"Then yours will do. Kindly lend it to me."

Valentine had talked himself into a trap. He could not refuse to lend
his cloak, and when the Duke had donned it, his Grace drew from the
pocket a sealed missive addressed to Silvia. He coolly opened it, and
read these words: "Silvia, you shall be free to-night."

"Indeed," he said, "and here's the rope ladder. Prettily contrived, but
not perfectly. I give you, sir, a day to leave my dominions. If you are
in Milan by this time to-morrow, you die."

Poor Valentine was saddened to the core. "Unless I look on Silvia in the
day," he said, "there is no day for me to look upon."

Before he went he took farewell of Proteus, who proved a hypocrite of
the first order. "Hope is a lover's staff," said Valentine's betrayer;
"walk hence with that."

After leaving Milan, Valentine and his servant wandered into a forest
near Mantua where the great poet Virgil lived. In the forest, however,
the poets (if any) were brigands, who bade the travelers stand. They
obeyed, and Valentine made so good an impression upon his captors that
they offered him his life on condition that he