Читать книгу The Shakespeare Story-Book - Уильям Шекспир, William Szekspir, the Simon Studio - Страница 8

Valentine had spoken many wise words to Proteus on the folly of being in love, but he had not been long in Milan before he was in just the same sad plight that he had cautioned his friend against. The Duke of Milan had a beautiful daughter called Silvia, and it was with her that Valentine fell deeply in love. She returned his affection, and they became secretly betrothed, but they dared not let this be known, for her father favoured another suitor, Sir Thurio, a rich and well-born gentleman, but foolish and extremely vain.

The Duke of Milan, as was the custom in those days, thought himself at perfect liberty to dispose of his daughter in marriage as best pleased himself, with but scant regard for her own feelings on the subject. He suspected there was some love between Silvia and Valentine, and saw many little things when they thought him blind. He often determined to forbid Valentine his Court and his daughter’s company, but, fearing that his jealousy might perhaps be leading him into error, and that he might bring disgrace unworthily upon Valentine, he resolved not to act rashly, but by gentle means to try to discover the truth. In the meanwhile he kept a strict watch over Silvia, and, fearing some attempt on the part of the young lovers to escape secretly, he gave directions that Silvia should be lodged in an upper tower, the key of which was brought every night to himself.

Matters were in this state when, to Valentine’s great joy, Proteus arrived at the Court of Milan. In the full warmth of his generous heart, Valentine lavished praises of his friend to the Duke of Milan and to Silvia, and for the sake of the love she bore to Valentine Silvia gave Proteus a hearty welcome.

But what a base return Proteus made for the kindness heaped on him! In spite of the devotion which he had professed for Julia, in spite of his lifelong friendship with Valentine, Proteus no sooner beheld Silvia than he imagined himself desperately in love with her. All thought of loyalty and honour was recklessly flung aside. He knew he was behaving shamefully. He remembered his faithful lady in Verona; he called to mind the duty he owed his dear friend Valentine. But for the moment his weak and selfish nature carried him beyond control. He had no thought but to gratify his own desires, and he determined to throw over Julia, and to win Silvia for himself at whatever cost of treachery and dishonour.

The task did not seem an impossible one, for Valentine, in the full glow of his unsuspicious nature, was ready to place unbounded trust in his friend, and in this way he gave into his hands the means by which he was betrayed. He told Proteus that, unknown to the Duke, her father, Silvia and he were betrothed – nay, more, that the hour of their marriage and the method of their flight were already arranged. Silvia was locked into her tower every night, but Valentine was to come with a ladder of ropes, by which he could climb up and help her to descend. That very evening was fixed for the carrying out of their scheme, and Valentine was now on his way to procure the ladder of ropes by which the attempt was to be made.

Proteus listened to this plot, and then in the depths of his meanness he determined to give Silvia’s father notice of what was planned, for he thought it would turn out greatly to his own advantage to do so. Valentine would be banished, and the way would then be left open for himself to try to win Silvia. True, her father favoured another suitor, Sir Thurio, but Proteus had little fear of that dull gentleman, and he thought it would be very easy to thwart his proceedings with some sly trick.

Proteus lost no time in carrying out his scheme, and it was immediately successful. With feigned reluctance, and under the hypocritical pretence that he was only acting from a sense of duty, Proteus repeated to the Duke of Milan what Valentine had told him. He made the Duke promise that he would not reveal his treachery, and pointed out how he could easily entrap Valentine as if the discovery had been made by himself. The Duke acted on this advice. He pretended to ask Valentine’s counsel as to the best way of winning a lady to be his wife, whose friends kept her securely shut up. Valentine at once suggested the method of escape which he was hoping to use in his own case.

“A ladder quaintly made of cords,” he said, “with hooks at the end, which you can throw up, and by which you can scale the tower.”

“But how shall I convey the ladder?” asked the Duke.

“It will be so light, my lord, that you can easily carry it under your cloak,” said Valentine.

“Will a cloak as long as yours serve the purpose?”

“Why, any cloak will serve, my lord.”

“How shall I wear it?” said the Duke. “Pray let me feel your cloak upon me.”

Valentine could scarcely refuse, and the next moment the Duke had drawn forth from the cloak not only a letter addressed to Silvia, saying that Valentine would set her free that night, but also the ladder of ropes that was to be used for that purpose.

Then the Duke’s anger blazed forth.

“Go, base intruder! Overweening slave!” he exclaimed; and in words of the most contemptuous wrath he ordered Valentine to leave his Court and his territories, and never to be seen in them again on pain of death.