ar some fine music, with which, he said, a
gentleman that evening was going to serenade his mistress.

The reason Julia looked so very melancholy was, that she did not well
know what Protheus would think of the imprudent step she had taken;
for she knew he had loved her for her noble maiden-pride and dignity
of character, and she feared she should lower herself in his esteem:
and this it was that made her wear a sad and thoughtful countenance.

She gladly accepted the offer of the host to go with him, and hear the
music; for she secretly hoped she might meet Protheus by the way.

But when she came to the palace whither the host conducted her, a very
different effect was produced to what the kind host intended; for
there, to her heart's sorrow, she beheld her lover, the inconstant
Protheus, serenading the lady Silvia with music, and addressing
discourse of love and admiration to her. And Julia overheard Silvia
from a window talk with Protheus, and reproach him for forsaking his
own true lady, and for his ingratitude to his friend Valentine: and
then Silvia left the window, not choosing to listen to his music
and his fine speeches; for she was a faithful lady to her banished
Valentine, and abhorred the ungenerous conduct of his false friend
Protheus.

Though Julia was in despair at what she had just witnessed, yet did
she still love the truant Protheus; and hearing that he had lately
parted with a servant, she contrived with the assistance of her host,
the friendly innkeeper, to hire herself to Protheus as a page; and
Protheus knew not she was Julia, and he sent her with letters and
presents to her rival Silvia, and he even sent by her the very ring
she gave him as a parting gift at Verona.

When she went to that lady with the ring, she was most glad to find
that Silvia utterly rejected the suit of Protheus; and Julia, or the
page Sebastian, as she was called, entered into conversation with
Silvia about Protheus' first love, the forsaken lady Julia. She
putting in (as one may say) a good word for herself, said she knew
Julia; as well she might, being herself the Julia of whom she spoke:
telling how fondly Julia loved her master Protheus, and how his unkind
neglect would grieve her: and then she with a pretty equivocation went
on: "Julia is about my height, and of my complexion, the colour of
her eyes and hair the same as mine;" and indeed Julia looked a most
beautiful youth in her boy's attire. Silvia was moved to pi