onicler who was first honoured with the
telling of their sweet story, the governor hoped to bring about a peace
between the Montagues and Capulets, at least for a little while.

Meanwhile, though Verona was a city of many trades and professions, and
love and death were idle things, yet was there little said of business
all these days, and little else done but talk of the two lovers, of
whom, indeed, it was true, as it has seldom been true out of Holy Writ,
that death was swallowed up in victory. During these days also there
stole a strange sweetness over the city, as though the very spirit of
love had nested there, and was filling the air with its soft
breathing--as when in the first days of spring the birds sing so sweetly
that broken hearts must hide away, and hard hearts grow a little kind.
Men once more spoke kindly to their wives, and even coarse faces wore a
gentle light,--just as sometimes at evening the setting sun will turn to
tenderness even black rocks and frowning towers.

There were many wild stories afloat about the end of the lovers. Some
said one way and some another. By some the story went that Romeo was
already dead before Juliet had awakened from her swoon, but others
declared that the poison had not worked upon him until Juliet's
awakening had made him awhile forget that he was to die. There were
those who professed to know the very words of their wild farewell, and
in fact there had been several witnesses of Juliet's agony over the body
of her lord. These had told how first she had raved and clung to him,
and called him 'Romeo,' 'Sweet Sir Romeo,' 'Husband,' and many
flower-like names, and had petted him and wooed him to come back. Then
on a sudden she had cried, God-a-mercy--how cold thou art!' and looked
at him long and strangely. Then had she grown stern, and anon soft.
'Canst thou not come back, my love? Then must I follow thee. Not so far
art thou on the way of death, but that I shall overtake thee, and
together shall we go to Pluto's realm, and seek a kinder world.'

Thereat she had plunged Romeo's dagger into her side, though some said
she had stopped her heart's beating by the strong will of her great
love. Yea--such were the distracted rumours--some averred that at the
last she had curst Christ and His saints, and called upon Venus, who, it
was rumoured in awestruck whispers, was being worshipped once more in
secret corners of the world.

It was strong noon when, on the fourth day, Romeo