For her part, Rosalind had been equally attracted by the gallant young wrestler, and when Celia began to rally her about her pensive looks, she was quite ready to admit the truth. “In good earnest,” said Celia, “is it possible that you should suddenly take so strong a liking for old Sir Rowland’s youngest son?” “The Duke, my father, loved his father dearly,” urged Rosalind in self-excuse. “Does it therefore follow that you should love his son dearly?” laughed Celia. “By this sort of reasoning _I_ should hate him, for my father hated his father dearly. And yet I do not hate Orlando.” “No, faith, for my sake do not hate him!” said Rosalind. “Love him because I do.” The cousins were interrupted by Duke Frederick, who entered hurriedly, his eyes full of anger. What Le Beau foretold had come to pass. The Duke’s displeasure against Rosalind had been growing for some time, for he was jealous at her being so universally beloved, and alarmed for the safety of his own position. Now, in a few curt words, he ordered her to leave the Court, saying that if in ten days’ time she were still found within twenty miles of it, she should be put to death. Rosalind was amazed and indignant, but all appeals were useless. Celia in vain tried to plead for her cousin. Duke Frederick would listen to no reason. He declared that Rosalind was a traitor, subtle enough to steal the affections of the people away from Celia herself, and that once she was gone Celia would shine to far greater advantage. The sentence he pronounced was irrevocable. Rosalind was banished. “Pronounce that sentence, then, on me, my liege,” said Celia. “I cannot live out of her company.” “You are a fool!” was the Duke’s contemptuous answer. Then to Rosalind he added: “You, niece, provide yourself; if you stay longer than the time, you die.” When her father left them, Celia again strove to cheer her cousin. She utterly refused to be parted from her, insisted on sharing her griefs, and declared that, no matter what Rosalind said, she intended to go with her. “Why, whither, shall we go?” asked Rosalind. “To seek my uncle in the Forest of Arden,” replied Celia. This was a good suggestion, and in order to avoid the danger of two high-born and beautiful maidens travelling alone, it was further agreed that Celia should stain her face brown, and attire herself in mean apparel, while Rosalind, who was tall of stature, should for better security, disguise herself as a youth, armed with curtle-axe, and with a boar-spear in her hand. “Let what fear there will, lie hidden in my woman’s heart,” she said gaily, “at least we’ll have a dashing and a martial outside!” [Illustration: “We’ll have a martial outside!”] In their new guise Rosalind declared she would take no worse a name than Jove’s own page--Ganymede; while Celia, in reference to her own banished state, thought that Aliena would be a very suitable name for herself.