“Treacherous man! Thou hast beguiled my hopes.”
“You miserable friend, without faith or love!” continued Valentine, hurling his scorn on the convicted traitor. “Treacherous man! Thou hast beguiled my hopes! Nothing but my own eyes would have made me believe what I see. Now I dare not say I have one living friend,—whom could I trust, when the one nearest my heart is perjured? Proteus, I am sorry I must never trust thee more, but for thy sake count the whole world a stranger. Alas, that amongst all foes a friend should be the worst!”
Proteus’s easily-moved nature was struck to the heart by Valentine’s just reproaches. With deepest remorse, he implored Valentine’s pardon, and so noble and generous was Valentine that he forgave him on the spot. Nay, more, in the impulse of the moment he even offered to resign his own claim on Silvia. The thought that Proteus would now really be lost to her for ever, struck Julia like a blow, and she fell fainting to the ground.
“Look to the boy,” said Proteus.
“Why, boy, how now? What’s the matter? Look up! Speak!” said Valentine.
“Oh, good sir, my master charged me to deliver a ring to Madam Silvia, which because of my neglect was never done,” said Julia, in her guise of the little page.