Bertram did not hesitate to declare his dislike to this present of the king’s of the self-offered Helena, who, he said, was a poor physician’s daughter, bred at his father’s charge, and now living a dependent on his mother’s bounty. Helena heard him speak these words of rejection and of scorn, and she said to the king: “That you are well, my lord, I am glad. Let the rest go.” But the king would not suffer his royal command to be so slighted, for the power of bestowing their nobles in marriage was one of the many privileges of the kings of France, and that same day Bertram was married to Helena, a forced and uneasy marriage to Bertram, and of no promising hope to the poor lady, who, though she gained the noble husband she had hazarded her life to obtain, seemed to have won but a splendid blank, her husband’s love not being a gift in the power of the King of France to bestow. Helena was no sooner married than she was desired by Bertram to apply to the king for him for leave of absence from court; and when she brought him the king’s permission for his departure, Bertram told her that he was not prepared for this sudden marriage, it had much unsettled him, and therefore she must not wonder at the course he should pursue. If Helena wondered not, she grieved when she found it was his intention to leave her. He ordered her to go home to his mother. When Helena heard this unkind command, she replied: “Sir, I can nothing say to this but that I am your most obedient servant, and shall ever with true observance seek to eke out that desert wherein my homely stars have failed to equal my great fortunes.” But this humble speech of Helena’s did not at all move the haughty Bertram to pity his gentle wife, and he parted from her without even the common civility of a kind farewell. Back to the countess then Helena returned. She had accomplished the purport of her journey, she had preserved the life of the king, and she had wedded her heart’s dear lord, the Count Rousillon; but she returned back a dejected lady to her noble mother-in-law, and as soon as she entered the house she received a letter from Bertram which almost broke her heart. The good countess received her with a cordial welcome, as if she had been her son’s own choice and a lady of a high degree, and she spoke kind words to comfort her for the unkind neglect of Bertram in sending his wife home on her bridal day alone. But this gracious reception failed to cheer the sad mind of Helena, and she said: “Madam, my lord is gone, forever gone.” She then read these words out of Bertram’s letter: “When you can get the ring from my finger, which never shall come off, then call me husband, but in such a Then I write a Never.” “This is a dreadful sentence!” said Helena.