she said: 'What o'clock is it?' Lucetta, who knew her
mistress more desired to see the letter than to know the time of day,
without answering her question, again offered the rejected letter.
Julia, angry that her maid should thus take the liberty of seeming to
know what she really wanted, tore the letter in pieces, and threw it on
the floor, ordering her maid once more out of the room. As Lucetta was
retiring, she stopped to pick up the fragments of the torn letter; but
Julia, who meant not so to part with them, said, in pretended anger:
'Go, get you gone, and let the papers lie, you would be fingering them
to anger me.'

Julia then began to piece together as well as she could the torn
fragments. She first made out these words: 'Love-wounded Proteus'; and
lamenting over these and such like loving words, which she made out
though they were all torn asunder, or, she said wounded (the expression
'Love-wounded Proteus' giving her that idea), she talked to these kind
words, telling them she would lodge them in her bosom as in a bed, till
their wounds were healed, and that she would kiss each several piece,
to make amends.

In this manner she went on talking with a pretty ladylike childishness,
till finding herself unable to make out the whole, and vexed at her own
ingratitude in destroying such sweet and loving words, as she called
them, she wrote a much kinder letter to Proteus than she had ever done
before.

Proteus was greatly delighted at receiving this favourable answer to
his letter; and while he was reading it, he exclaimed: 'Sweet love,
sweet lines, sweet life!' In the midst of his raptures he was
interrupted by his father. 'How now!' said the old gentleman; 'what
letter are you reading there?'

'My lord,' replied Proteus, 'it is a letter from my friend Valentine,
at Milan.'

'Lend me the letter,' said his father: 'let me see what news.'

'There are no news, my lord,' said Proteus, greatly alarmed, 'but that
he writes how well beloved he is of the duke of Milan, who daily graces
him with favours; and how he wishes me with him, the partner of his
fortune.'

'And how stand you affected to his wish?' asked the father.

'As one relying on your lordship's will, and not depending on his
friendly wish,' said Proteus.

Now it had happened that Proteus' father had just been talking with a
friend on this very subject: his friend had said, he wondered his
lordship suffered his son to spend his youth at home, while m