“No, no; it was you who said that. I admit the friendship for three days.”
“And I assert the friendship of a lifetime,” Evander persisted. His voice and his eyes were very merry, but there came an unconquerable gnawing at his heart that, in spite of the fair place and the fair face and the sweet discourse, life for him meant no more than a space of three days. Well, then, he would live his three days bravely, brightly. He lifted his eyes to the lady.
“Are you of Master Amiens’ school?” he asked—
“‘Most friendship is feigning, most love is mere folly.’”
She made no reply to his question, but its matter surprised her and prompted her to another.
“Do you go to Master Shakespeare’s school?” she asked; and even as she spoke she leaned forward to look at the book he had laid down and to which, till that moment, she had paid no heed. She drew it towards her and saw what it was.
“Why, here are his plays. Can you affect him when ’tis known that the King loves him?”
“I would the King had no worse counsellors,” Evander said, gravely.
Brilliana had lifted the big book onto her lap and was turning the pages tenderly, pausing here and there with loving murmurs.
“Had I been a man,” she said, softly, “I should have turned player for the pleasure to speak such golden words.”