Bertram, when he left Paris, went to Florence, and there became an officer in the Duke of Florence’s army, and after a successful war, in which he distinguished himself by many brave actions, Bertram received letters from his mother, containing the acceptable tidings that Helena would no more disturb him; and he was preparing to return home, when Helena herself, clad in her pilgrim’s weeds, arrived at the city of Florence. Florence was a city through which the pilgrims used to pass on their way to St. Jaques le Grand; and when Helena arrived at this city, she heard that a hospitable widow dwelt there, who used to receive into her house the female pilgrims that were going to visit the shrine of that saint, giving them lodging and kind entertainment. To this good lady therefore Helena went, and the widow gave her a courteous welcome, and invited her to see whatever was curious in that famous city, and told her that if she would like to see the duke’s army, she would take her where she might have a full view of it. “And you will see a countryman of yours,” said the widow; “his name is Count Rossilion, who has done worthy service in the duke’s wars.” Helena wanted no second invitation, when she found Bertram was to make part of the show. She accompanied her hostess; and a sad mournful pleasure it was to her to look once more upon her dear husband’s face. “Is he not a handsome man?” said the widow. “I like him well,” replied Helena with great truth. All the way they walked, the talkative widow’s discourse was all of Bertram; she told Helena the story of Bertram’s marriage, and how he had deserted the poor lady his wife and entered into the duke’s army to avoid living with her. To this account of her own misfortunes Helena patiently listened, and when it was ended the history of Bertram was not yet done, for then the widow began another tale, every word of which sank deep into the mind of Helena; for the story she now told was of Bertram’s love for her daughter. Though Bertram did not like the marriage forced on him by the king, it seems he was not insensible to love, for since he had been stationed with the army at Florence, he had fallen in love with Diana, a fair young gentlewoman, the daughter of this widow who was Helena’s hostess: and every night, with music of all sorts, and songs composed in praise of Diana’s beauty, he would come under her window, and solicit her love: and all his suit to her was that she would permit him to visit her by stealth after the family were retired to rest; but Diana would by no means be persuaded to grant this improper request, nor give any encouragement to his suit, knowing him to be a married man: for Diana had been brought up under the counsels of a prudent mother, who, though she was now in reduced circumstances, was well-born, and descended from the noble family of the Capulets.