“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. Much Ado about Nothing [Illustration] “Dear Lady Disdain” There was rejoicing in Messina, for the war was over, and Don Pedro, the victorious Prince of Arragon, was returning in triumph. Tidings were sent to Leonato, the Governor, to expect his speedy approach; and Leonato himself, with his daughter Hero and his niece Beatrice, received the Prince’s messenger, and questioned him eagerly as to the welfare of their friends. “How many gentlemen have you lost in this action?” inquired Leonato. “But few of any sort, and none of name,” replied the messenger. “I find in this letter that Don Pedro has bestowed much honour on a young Florentine called Claudio,” said Leonato. “Much deserved on his part and equally remembered by Don Pedro,” answered the messenger. “He has indeed borne himself gallantly, doing in the figure of a lamb the feats of a lion.”