Читать книгу The Shakespeare Story-Book - Уильям Шекспир, William Szekspir, the Simon Studio - Страница 11

Those were dark days for the lady Silvia: her lover Valentine banished, she herself kept in close imprisonment by her angry and tyrannical father, threatened with marriage to a suitor whom she hated and despised. What prospect of release could she look forward to?

But she was not without courage, and she was not without hope.

At the Court of Milan there was one friend on whom she could rely – the kind Sir Eglamour, a gentleman, valiant, wise, compassionate, well-accomplished; one who had himself known sorrow, for his lady and true love had died, and his heart still mourned her memory.

Silvia told this gentleman that she was anxious to go to Valentine – to Mantua – where she had heard he was staying, and because the ways were dangerous she begged him to accompany her, in whose faith and honour she trusted. Pitying her distress, and knowing that the Duke was acting cruelly in trying to force his daughter into an unworthy marriage, Sir Eglamour willingly agreed, and it was arranged they should start that evening.

Sir Eglamour had scarcely left Silvia, when the messenger arrived from Proteus to claim the portrait which Silvia had promised. And who should Proteus have chosen for this errand but his new young page, Sebastian, whom he little thought was his own dear lady Julia in disguise. Not only this, but he also entrusted a ring to Sebastian to give to Silvia, and this ring was no other than the one which Julia had given to him when they parted, and which he had received with so many protestations of affection and vows of fidelity.

Julia, or Sebastian, as we ought now to call her, was nearly heart-broken at the task imposed on her, but she carried it through faithfully. And in one way she met with her reward. For the noble lady Silvia showed no pleasure at this proof of Proteus’s affection, only scorn and indignation at his treachery to his own love. She gave her portrait, as she had promised it, but she tore up his letter in contempt, without even reading it; and as for the ring, she refused to accept it.

“Madam, he sends your ladyship this ring,” said the pretty lad Sebastian.

“The more shame for him that he sends it me!” said Silvia warmly. “For I have heard him say a thousand times that Julia gave it him at his departure. Though his false finger have profaned the ring, mine shall never do his Julia so much wrong,” she declared.

Julia was deeply touched and grateful at Silvia’s generous sympathy, and still more so when the lady went on to question her about Julia, and to say how much she felt for her and pitied her.

“Alas, poor lady, desolate and left! I could weep for her,” she said. “Here, youth, there is my purse. I give you this for your sweet mistress’s sake, because you love her. Farewell!”

“And she shall thank you for it if ever you know her,” cried Julia, as Silvia retired with her attendants. “A virtuous gentlewoman, mild and beautiful! I hope my master’s suit will be but cold, since she respects my mistress’s love so much.”

And somewhat comforted she returned to Proteus.

Silvia fled that night, as she had arranged with Sir Eglamour. The news soon reached her father’s ears, and he immediately set out in pursuit of her, the party also including Sir Thurio, Proteus, and Sebastian. But in crossing a dangerous forest Sir Eglamour and Silvia had been seized by a band of outlaws. Sir Eglamour contrived to make his escape, but the outlaws were conveying Silvia to their chief, when Proteus came up with them and with some difficulty rescued their captive.

Now, the captain of these outlaws was no other than Valentine. On his way to Mantua he had been taken prisoner by the band, who, seeing that he was a brave and accomplished gentleman, had begged him to be their chief. Finding that they were not really bad men, but had been driven to this method of life by reckless behaviour in their youth, which had caused them to be banished from Milan, Valentine consented.

“I accept your offer, and will live with you,” he said, “provided that you do no harm to women or poor travellers.”

“No; we detest such vile practices,” said one of the outlaws. “Come, go with us. We will take you to the rest of our crew, and show you all the treasure we have got, and everything shall be at your disposal.”

On the day when the adventure occurred to Sir Eglamour and Silvia, Valentine happened to be alone, when, unseen by them in the thickness of the forest, he saw Proteus approaching with Silvia and the little page Sebastian.

“Madam,” he heard Proteus say, “I have done this service for you and risked my life, though you do not respect anything that your servant does. Grant me but a kind look for my reward. I cannot ask a smaller boon than that, and less than that I am sure you cannot give.”

“This is like a dream!” thought Valentine, aghast at his friend’s treachery. But he tried to wait patiently for a few minutes to see what would happen.

“Oh, miserable, unhappy that I am,” sighed Silvia.

“And I too!” murmured the poor little page, apart.

“Had I been seized by a hungry lion, I would rather have been a breakfast to the beast than have false Proteus rescue me!” cried Silvia. “Oh, heaven, be judge how I love Valentine, whose life is as dear to me as my soul! And just as much – for it cannot be more – do I detest false, perjured Proteus! Therefore begone; entreat me no more.”

Seeing there was no chance of winning Silvia by fair words, Proteus, in a rage, seized hold of her roughly, whereupon Valentine sprang forth and struck him back.

“Ruffian, let go that rude, uncivil touch! Thou evil-fashioned friend!”

“Valentine!”

“You miserable friend, without faith or love!” continued Valentine, hurling his scorn on the convicted traitor. “Treacherous man! Thou hast beguiled my hopes! Nothing but my own eyes would have made me believe what I see. Now I dare not say I have one living friend, – whom could I trust, when the one nearest my heart is perjured? Proteus, I am sorry I must never trust thee more, but for thy sake count the whole world a stranger. Alas, that amongst all foes a friend should be the worst!”

Proteus’s easily-moved nature was struck to the heart by Valentine’s just reproaches. With deepest remorse, he implored Valentine’s pardon, and so noble and generous was Valentine that he forgave him on the spot. Nay, more, in the impulse of the moment he even offered to resign his own claim on Silvia. The thought that Proteus would now really be lost to her for ever, struck Julia like a blow, and she fell fainting to the ground.

“Look to the boy,” said Proteus.

“Why, boy, how now? What’s the matter? Look up! Speak!” said Valentine.

“Oh, good sir, my master charged me to deliver a ring to Madam Silvia, which because of my neglect was never done,” said Julia, in her guise of the little page.

“Where is that ring, boy?” asked Proteus.

“Here it is – this is it.”

“How? Let me see. Why, this is the ring I gave to Julia.”

“Oh, cry you mercy, sir, I have made a mistake,” said Julia, pretending to discover her error, and holding out another one. “This is the ring you sent to Silvia.”

“But how did you come by this ring?” asked Proteus, looking at the first one. “When I left Verona I gave this to Julia.”

“And Julia herself gave it to me, and Julia herself has brought it here.”

“How? Julia!”

“Behold her to whom you swore so many vows, and who kept them tenderly in her heart! How often have you perjured yourself!” cried Julia, throwing off her disguise. “Oh, Proteus, let these clothes make you blush! Are you ashamed that I have put on the raiment of a boy? I tell you, it is less shameful for women to change their guise than men their minds!”

“Than men their minds!” echoed the conscience-stricken Proteus. “That is true.”

“Come, come, give me each your hand,” interposed Valentine. “Let me be blest in making a happy ending. It were pity that two such friends should be long foes.”

“Bear witness, Heaven, I have my wish for ever!” said Proteus solemnly.

“And I mine,” said Julia.

And it is to be hoped that this time the fickle gentleman kept faithful to his lady.

Matters had scarcely come to this happy conclusion, when the outlaws approached, bringing as captives the Duke of Milan and Sir Thurio.

“A prize! a prize! a prize!” shouted the outlaws.

“Forbear, forbear, I say! It is my lord, the Duke of Milan,” said Valentine. “Your Grace is welcome to a man disgraced,” he added courteously.

“Sir Valentine!”

“Yonder is Silvia, and Silvia’s mine!” interrupted Sir Thurio, pressing rudely forward.

“Stand back!” commanded Valentine. “Come near, at your peril! Do not dare to call Silvia yours! Here she stands: I dare you to touch her, or even to come near.”

“Sir Valentine, I care not for her – I!” said Thurio, quite cowed. “I hold him but a fool who will endanger himself for a girl who does not love him. I claim her not, and therefore she is yours.”

“The more base of you to act as you have done, and then to leave her on such slight excuse!” said the Duke indignantly. “Now, by the honour of my ancestry, I applaud your spirit, Valentine; you are worthy of an Empress’s love. Know, then, I cancel here all that has passed, and summon you home again Sir Valentine, you are a gentleman. Take you your Silvia, for you have deserved her.”

“I thank your Grace; the gift has made me happy. I now beg you, for your daughter’s sake, to grant one boon that I shall ask of you.”

“I grant it you for your own, whatever it be,” said the Duke.

Then Valentine begged him to pardon the band of outlaws and recall them from exile.

“They are reformed, civil, full of good, and fit for great employment,” he said.

The Duke willingly granted his pardon, and then the whole party returned happily to Milan, where the same day wedding feasts were appointed for the two marriages – Valentine with Silvia, and Proteus with Julia.