nose, everyone could see by his
mouth and his hair, and the way he held his head, that he was twelve
times handsomer than anyone else in the room.

Presently amid the dancers he saw a lady so beautiful and so lovable
that from that moment he never again gave one thought to that Rosaline
whom he had thought he loved. And he looked at this other fair lady, as
she moved in the dance in her white satin and pearls, and all the world
seemed vain and worthless to him compared with her. And he was saying
this, or something like it, when Tybalt, Lady Capulet's nephew, hearing
his voice, knew him to be Romeo. Tybalt, being very angry, went at
once to his uncle, and told him how a Montagu had come uninvited to the
feast; but old Capulet was too fine a gentleman to be discourteous to
any man under his own roof, and he bade Tybalt be quiet. But this young
man only waited for a chance to quarrel with Romeo.

In the meantime Romeo made his way to the fair lady, and told her in
sweet words that he loved her, and kissed her. Just then her mother sent
for her, and then Romeo found out that the lady on whom he had set his
heart's hopes was Juliet, the daughter of Lord Capulet, his sworn foe.
So he went away, sorrowing indeed, but loving her none the less.

Then Juliet said to her nurse:

"Who is that gentleman that would not dance?"

"His name is Romeo, and a Montagu, the only son of your great enemy,"
answered the nurse.

Then Juliet went to her room, and looked out of her window, over the
beautiful green-grey garden, where the moon was shining. And Romeo was
hidden in that garden among the trees--because he could not bear to go
right away without trying to see her again. So she--not knowing him to
be there--spoke her secret thought aloud, and told the quiet garden how
she loved Romeo.

And Romeo heard and was glad beyond measure. Hidden below, he looked
up and saw her fair face in the moonlight, framed in the blossoming
creepers that grew round her window, and as he looked and listened, he
felt as though he had been carried away in a dream, and set down by some
magician in that beautiful and enchanted garden.

"Ah--why are you called Romeo?" said Juliet. "Since I love you, what
does it matter what you are called?"

"Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized--henceforth I never will be
Romeo," he cried, stepping into the full white moonlight from the shade
of the cypresses and oleanders that had hidden him.

She was frighten