When she heard this outspoken praise of the young Florentine, Hero, the Governor’s daughter, felt a warm thrill of joy, but she only smiled and blushed with pleasure. “I pray you,” put in Beatrice, the Governor’s niece, who lived in her uncle’s house, and was the dear companion of his only daughter, “is Signor Mountanto returned from the wars or no?” “I know none of that name, lady,” said the messenger, looking rather puzzled; “there was none such in the army of any sort.” “Who is he that you ask for niece?” “My cousin means Signor Benedick of Padua,” explained Hero. “Oh, he has returned, and as pleasant as ever he was,” said the messenger. “I pray you, how many has he killed and eaten in these wars?” said Beatrice mockingly. “But no, how many has he killed? For, indeed, _I_ promised to eat all of his killing.” “Faith, niece, you are too hard on Signor Benedick,” said Leonato. “But he will be even with you, I do not doubt.” “He has done good service, lady, in these wars,” said the messenger; and then he went on to praise warmly the valour and noble qualities of the young lord; but Beatrice would do nothing but laugh and mock at all he said. “You must not, sir, mistake my niece,” said Leonato at last. “There is a kind of merry war betwixt Signor Benedick and her; they never meet but there is a skirmish of wit between them.” While they were still speaking, the Prince of Arragon, with his train of noble gentlemen, arrived. Leonato welcomed them most warmly. Count Claudio and Signor Benedick were old friends, and had previously stayed at the Governor’s palace; indeed, before starting for the wars Claudio had looked with more than an eye of favour on the gentle lady Hero. As for Beatrice and Benedick, they pretended to have a great aversion to each other, but, strange to say, instead of avoiding each other’s society, they seemed to delight in seizing every opportunity to plague and tease each other as much as possible. On the present occasion Beatrice had not long to wait, and on Benedick’s making some jesting remark to Don Pedro and Leonato, she plunged into the fray. “I wonder that you will still be talking, Signor Benedick; nobody marks you.” “What, my dear Lady Disdain! Are you yet living?” retorted Benedick. “Is it possible that Disdain should die while she has such meet food to feed it as Signor Benedick? Courtesy herself must turn into disdain if you come into her presence.” “Then is Courtesy a turncoat. But it is certain I am loved of all ladies, only you excepted; and I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart, for truly I love none,” remarked Benedick in a lofty manner. “That is very happy for women; they would otherwise have been troubled with a most annoying suitor,” said Beatrice. “Thank Heaven, I am like you in that respect; I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me.”