Iago remarked he was glad of that, for now he could show the love and duty he bore Othello more frankly. Then he advised Othello to watch his wife closely, and note her behaviour with Cassio, afterwards pretending to draw back, and urging Othello to go no further into the matter, but to leave it to time. So, having succeeded in making Othello thoroughly unhappy, Iago took his leave. “This fellow’s of exceeding honesty, and knows all qualities of human dealings most skilfully,” thought the poor deceived Othello; and then, as Desdemona herself came in sight, innocence and candour enthroned on her brow, for a moment all mistrust melted. “If she be false, O, then heaven mocks itself! I’ll not believe it.” Desdemona had come to remind her husband that dinner was served, and that the islanders invited as guests were waiting. Othello, who had been greatly upset by his conversation with Iago, replied in such a faint voice that Desdemona asked if he were ill. “I have a pain upon my forehead here,” answered Othello. “That’s with watching. Let me but bind it hard; within this hour it will be well,” said Desdemona, holding out a handkerchief beautifully embroidered with strawberries. “Your napkin is too little,” said Othello, putting the handkerchief from him, where it dropped, unheeded, to the ground. “Let it alone. Come, I’ll go in with you.” “I am very sorry that you are not well,” said Desdemona with the simple wistfulness of a child. When they had gone, the handkerchief was picked up by Emilia, wife of Iago, who was very glad to find it, for her husband had often begged her to steal it for him. But Desdemona so loved the token--for it was the first remembrance Othello had given her, and he had begged her never to part with it--that she always kept it carefully about her, to kiss and talk to. “I’ll have the work taken out, and give it to Iago,” said Emilia to herself. “What he will do with it Heaven knows, not I; I only do it to please his whim.” But Emilia was already half repenting of what she had done, before she gave the handkerchief to Iago, and she might possibly have refused to part with it at all if Iago had not put an end to the matter by cunningly snatching it from her with one hand, while he pretended to caress her with the other. Directly it was safely in his possession he dropped the amiable tone he had assumed, and harshly ordered away his wife. Iago was delighted to have got this handkerchief, for he meant to make a wicked use of it. He was going to lose it in Cassio’s lodgings, and let the young lieutenant find it, when he would take care that Othello should think it was a present from Desdemona. Iago knew that “Trifles light as air are to the jealous confirmation strong as proofs of holy writ,” and seeing Othello approach, he marked with fiendish satisfaction the cloud of gloom and trouble that rested on his brow.