name his sweetheart. She assured him that the story was
a lie, and that the course she urged was the best means of testing
it. If the gentleman, said she, did not name her whom he deemed so
beautiful, and his master believed him on his mere word, he would indeed
be the most foolish Prince alive.

The poor Duke, whose wife directed his thoughts at her pleasure, went to
walk alone with the gentleman, and told him that he was in even greater
trouble than before; for he was greatly minded to believe that he had
been given an excuse to keep him from suspecting the truth. This was a
greater torment to him than ever; and he therefore begged the gentleman,
as earnestly as he was able, to name her whom he loved so dearly. The
poor gentleman entreated that he might not be made to commit so great
an offence against his mistress as to break the promise he had given her
and had kept so long, and thus lose in a day all that he had preserved
for seven years. And he added that he would rather suffer death than in
this wise wrong one who had been true to him.

The Duke, finding that he would not tell him, became deeply jealous, and
with a wrathful countenance exclaimed--

"Well, choose one of two things: either tell me whom you love more than
any other, or else go into banishment from the territories over which
I rule, under pain of a cruel death if you be found within them after a
week is over."

If ever heart of loyal servant was torn with anguish, it was so with
that of this poor gentleman, who might well have said, _Angustiae sunt
mihi undique_, for on the one part he saw that by telling the truth
he would lose his mistress, if she learned that he had failed in his
promise to her; while, if he did not confess it, he would be banished
from the land in which she dwelt, and be no more able to see her. Hard
pressed in this manner on all sides, there came upon him a cold sweat,
as on one whose sorrow was bringing him near to death. The Duke,
observing his looks, concluded that he loved no other lady than the
Duchess, and was enduring this suffering because he was able to name
none other. He therefore said to him with considerable harshness--

"If what you say were true, you would not have so much trouble in
telling me; but methinks 'tis your crime that is tormenting you."

The gentleman, piqued by these words, and impelled by the love that he
bore his master, resolved to tell him the truth, believing that he was
too honourable a m