 Didarko and Violenta, the forty-second novel of the Palace of Pleasure, by William Painter. There is no man but doth know that Valencia is, at this day, the chief and only Rampire of Spain, the true seat of faith, justice and humanity. And amongst all the rare and excellent ornaments, that city is well furnished with so trim ladies and courteous gentle women, as they know how to bait and feed young men with foolish dalliance and idle pastime. So that if there be any beetle head or gross person, the better to allure and provoke him to those follies they tell him, by a common proverb, that he must go to Valencia. In this city there was, in old time, as it is this day, a very ancient stock and family called Ventimiglia, out of which be descended a great number of rich and honourable knights. Next whom, not long time past, there was one named Didarko, very famous and renowned to be the most liberal and familiar gentleman of the city, who, for want of better business, walked up and down the city and so consumed his youth in triumphs, masks and other expenses common and apt for such pilgrims, addressing his love indifferently to all women without greater affection to one than to another, and continued that order till, upon a holiday, he aspired a young maid, of final years but a very exquisite beauty, which made suddenly casting her eye upon him. So pierced the night Didarko with her look, that from that time forth she entered more near his heart than any other. And after he had well marked her dwelling place, he many times passed and re-passed before the door to aspire if he might get some look or other favour of her that began already to govern the bridle of his thoughts. And if it chanced that the gentleman beheld her, she showed herself courteous and amiable, endued with grace so good as he never departed ill-contented out of the street. The gentleman, continuing certain time in those vanities, was desirous to know afar of what she was, of what lineage and of what vocation. And after he had curiously searched out all her original, he understood by diverse report that she was a Goldsmith's daughter, whose father was dead certain years before, having no more but her mother alive and two brethren, both of their father's science. Notwithstanding, of life she was chased and honest, defamed with none, although she was pursued of many. Her outward beauty did not so much set her forth, as her grace and order of talk, too, although brought up in a citizen's house, yet no lady or gentlewoman in the city was comparable to her in virtue and behaviour. For from her tender years she was not only given to her needle, a meat exercise for maids of her degree, but also was trained up to read and write, wherein she took so great pleasure as ordinarily she carried a book in her hand, which she never gave over until she had gathered some fruit thereof. This night, having received that first impression of the valour and virtue of Violenta, or that was her name, was further in love than before, and that which added more oil to the match was the continual looks wherewith she knew how to delight him, and with them she was so liberal that so often as he passed through the street she shot them forth so cruelly as his poor heart, feeling itself so tormented, could not endure that new onset. By reason whereof, thinking to quench the fire that by little and little consumed him, he attempted her chastity, with gifts, letters and messengers, which he continued the space of half a year or more, whereon to Violenta, giving no place, in the end he was constrained to assail her with his own presence, and one day finding her alone at the door after he had made a very humble reverence unto her, he said, a mistress-violenta, considering your order and the cold regard that you have to my letters and messengers, I do remember the subtlety that is attributed to the serpent, who with his tails stop at his ears because he will not hear the words which have the power to constrain him to do against his will, which have made me to leave to write unto you, and to desire specially to speak unto you that my ineffectuous accents, my sorrowful words and fervent sighs might certify you better than paper the rest of my passion, believing verily that if the heavy sound of my grievous complaints may come to your delicate ears, they will make you to understand a part of that good and evil which I feel continually in my heart, although the love which I bear you be such as I cannot give any lively experience outwardly, being but little in comparison of them which may be seen within. And pronouncing those words there followed so many tears, sobs and sighs, as they gave sufficient testimony that his tongue was the true and faithful messenger of his heart. Senor Daidarko, if you do not yet remember your life past and my honesty, which, per adventure, you have thought either rude or cruel, I doubt not that you have any caused a marvel of my presumption, and to attribute that device, which is familiar with virtue, for although that you have solicited me to love you by an infinite number of letters and messages, yet it is so that, following the nature of maids of my degree, I have neither allowed them nor yet condemned them, as were unto accordingly I have made no answer. Not for despite or contempt, but to let you know more certainly that by favouring your enterprises I should increase your grief, which can receive none end by the way you pretend, for although that I have made the first proof upon myself, and therefore of reason I ought to lament them, which be inseparable pain, yet I will not let slip the bridle in such wise my passion that my honesty shall remain in another man's power, and so it may be, at the mercy and courtesy of them who, not knowing how dear it is to me, shall think they have made a pretty conquest, and that I may have no cause to repent too late, I have stopped my nears for fear that I be not arrested and stay with the violence of your charms, a thing, as you say, proper to serpents, but I have forfeited my heart, and so armed my inward mind, as if God continue that grace in me which hitherto he has done, I hope not to be surprised, although that I must needs confess to my shame that I have received marvellous assaults of love, not only for the common renown of your virtues and through the courtesy and gentleness daily imparted to me by your letters, but especially by your presence, which hath yielded unto me experience and assurance of that which all the letters of the world could not do, nor all other messages were not able to conceive, and to the end that I may not be utterly ingrate, and that you do not depart from me altogether miscontent. I do promise you now that, from henceforth, you shall enjoy the first place of my heart, whereon to another shall never enter. If so be you can be content with honest amity, wherein you shall find me in time to come so liberal in all that which honestly shall permit, that I am content to forego the name of a presumptuous or cruel damsel for your sake, but if you mean to abuse me, or hope for anything of me contrary to my honour, you be marvellously deceived. Wherefore, if you think your worthiness is too great to carry away a recompense so small, you shall do very well both for me and yourself in forgetting that is past, to cut off all hope in time to come. And she, thinking to prolong a further discourse, the mother of Violenta, which still stood at the window all the time that Senor Didaco was with her daughter, came down to the door, interrupting their talk, said to Didaco, Sir, I suppose you take great pleasure in the folly of my daughter, because you tarry and abide here rather than to contrive your time than for any other contentation you can receive. For she is so evil-tort and of such rude behaviour that her demeanour will rather trouble you than give you cause of delight. Mistress, said Didaco, although in the beginning I purposed not to tarry so long, yet when I entered in more familiar acquaintance and had well experienced her good graces, I confess that I have stayed here longer than I thought. And were he never so great a law that liveth at this day, I dare avouch that he might think his time well spent in hearing such sober and honest talk, wherewith I think myself so well satisfied and instructed as all the days of my life I will witness that virtue, courtesy, and sober behaviour is to be found as well in mean degrees and houses as in them that be right noble, amongst which mean families, although she be one, it may be so, that one more illustrator and noble cannot be more excellent and accomplish with better manners than she, which is now well manifested to me in this little discourse. And after a certain other common talk, Didaco took his leave and went home to his house, where he lived fourteen or fifteen months without any rest, assaying by all means to mortify his desires, but it availed not. For although he was rich, a trim courtier and an eloquent gentleman and had opportunity to speak unto her many times, and she, gentle enough to hear him and to understand his errands, and was assured by friends that she for her part was also in love, yet he was not able by human art and policy to convert her to his mind. Wherewith all he was long time molested and at length pressed with grief and annoyance, he was advised to send six hundred ducats to the mother, for a relief to the marriage of her daughter, promising besides that he would assign her an honest dowry when she found a man worthy to be her husband, upon condition that she would yield to him some comfort to ease his affection. But she which could not be won with love was not able to be recovered with money, and was offended that Senor Didaco had forgotten himself so far as to think to gain that for money, which with so great pain tears and sighs had been denied him. And to make him understand how she was offended, she sent word by him that brought her the money, that he should go and prove her after to deceive them that measured them on her with the price of profit, and not to set traps to deceive other that would buy nothing hurtful to virtue. And after Didaco was advised of her mind, and perceived that he lost time in all his enterprises, and was able no longer to sustain his extreme pain and sorrow which daily augmented, and when he had debated in his mind all the success of his love, he resolved in the end upon that which he thought most profitable for his quiet, which was to marry her. And although she was of no such house, and yet less endowed with substance as he deserved, yet her beauty and virtue and other gifts of grace wherewith she was enriched, made her worthy of a great Lord. And resolved upon this, he repaired to Violenta to whom he said, Mistress Violenta, if the true touchstone to know them that be perfect lovers amongst other is marriage, certainly you have gotten a husband of me, if it please you to accept me for such one, whom in time you shall make to understand the difference between goodness and virtue, and between honesty and riches. Violenta then ravished with joy and incredible contentation, somewhat abashed, said unto him, Senor Didaco, I know not whether you pretend by words to prove my constancy, or else bring me into fool's paradise, but of one thing I can assure you, that although I acknowledge myself inferior to you in merits, goods, and virtue, yet if that come to pass which you promise, I will not give place to you in love, trusting if God send us life together, you shall well understand one day, that you would not exchange my person for a greater lady whatsoever she be. For confirmation, whereof, Didaco plucked from his finger an emerald of great value, which, when he had kissed her, he gave unto her in the way of marriage, praying her that she would not disclose it for a certain time until he himself had made all his friends privy unto it. Notwithstanding, he willed her to impart the same to her two brethren and to her mother, and he would get some priest of the country to solidify the marriage within their house, which was done in a chamber about four o'clock in the morning, being only present the mother, the brethren, the priest, and a servant of the house brought up there from her youth and his own man, without making any other preparation of cost requisite for such a matter. In this sort they spent the day in great joy and mirth, which they can conceive that be of base birth and exalted to some high degree of honour, till night was come, and then every man withdrew themselves leaving the bride and her husband to the mercy of love and order of the night, who, being alone, received equal joy and like contentation, which they feel that being pressed with ardent and grievous thirst, do in the end afterwards with lively joy and all kind of liberty quench that cruel discomodity. And continued in those pleasures till morning, that day began to appear, to whom Violenta said, My honourable Lord and dear husband, said that you be now in possession of that which you have so greatly desired. I humbly beseech you to consider for the time to come how and what wise your pleasure is that I shall use myself. For if God grant me the grace to be so discreet in pleasing you as I shall be ready and desireeth to obey you, in all that you shall command me there was never gentleman servant that did more willingly please his master than I hope to do you. My sweet and well beloved wife, let us leave this humbleness and service for this time to them which delight in them, for I promise you of my faith that I have you in no less reverence and estimation than if you had come of the greatest house in Catalonia, as I will make you understand some other time at more leisure. But till I have given order to certain of mine affairs, I pray you to keep our marriage secret, and be not offended if many times I do resort home to my own house, although there shall no day pass by my will, but at night I will keep you company. In the meantime, to buy you necessaries I will send you a thousand or twelve hundred ducats to employ, not upon apparel or other things requisite to your degree, for I will provide the same myself at another time, but upon small trifles such as be apt and convenient for household. And so departed Senor Didarco from his wife's house, who did so lovingly entertain him, as by the space of a year there was no day wherein he was content without the view and sight of his wife. And upon his oft resort to their house, the neighbours began to suspect that he kept the maiden, and rebuked her mother and brethren, but especially violent at the suffering Didarco to use their house in such secret wise. And above all they lamented the ill-happ of Violenta, who, being so well brought up till she was twenty years of age and maiden of such beauty, that there was none in all the city of Valencia but greatly did esteem her to be of singular honesty and reputation. Notwithstanding, degenerating from her accustomed virtue, they judged her to be light of behaviour, given to lascivious love, and, albeit that very many times such checks and taunts were objected, yet she made small account of them, knowing that her conscience by any means was not charged with such reproach, hoping there with all that one day she would make them to give over that false opinion when her marriage should be published and known. But certain times, feeling herself touched and her honesty impaired, could not contain but when she saw time with her husband, she prayed him very earnestly to have her home to his own house, to avoid slander and defamation of neighbours. But Sir Didarco knew so well how to use his wife by delays and promises, as she agreed unto him in all things, and had rather displeased the whole world together than offend him alone. Being now so attached with the love of the night as she cared for nothing else but to please and content him in all things when unto she saw him disposed. And like as in the beginning she was hard and very slack in love, now she became so fervent and earnest in her affections, as she received no pleasure but in the sight of Didarco, or in that which might content and please him best. Which the night did easily perceive, and seeing himself in full possession of her heart, began by little and little to wax cold, and to be grieved at that which before he counted dear and precious, persuading himself that he should do no wrong to his reputation if that marriage unworthy of his estate were discovered and known in the city, and to provide for the same he more seldom times repaired to visit his wife violenter. Yay! And when so ever he resorted to her, it was more to satisfy his carnal pleasure than for any love he bore her. And thus, forgetting both God and his own conscience, he frequented other companies in diverse places to win the goodwill of some other gentlewoman. In the end, by sundry suits, dissimulations, and hypocrisies, he so behaved himself as he recovered the goodwill of the daughter of Senor Ramiro Villarracuta, one of the chiefest knights and of most ancient house of Valencia. And, as we have declared before, because he was rich and wealthy and issued of a noble race, her parents did easily agree to the marriage, and the father, having assigned an honourable dowry to his daughter, the nuptials were celebrated publicly with great pomp and solemnity to the singular contentation of all men. The marriage down and ended, Sir Didaco and his new wife continued at the house of his father-in-law, where he lived a certain time in such pleasure and delectation as they do that be newly married. Whereof the mother and brethren of Violenta, being advertised, conceived like sorrow as accustomedly they do that see the honour of them that be issued of their own blood unjustly and without cause to be despoiled. And these poor, miserable creatures, not knowing to whom to make their complaint lived in strange perplexity, because they knew not the priest which did solemnise their marriage. On the other side they had no sufficient proof of the same, and, albeit they were able to verify in some points the first marriage of Didaco, yet they durst not prosecute the law against two of the greatest lords of their city. And, knowing the stout heart of Violenta, they thought to conceal the same from her for a time, but it was in vain. For not long after she was certified thereof, not only by the next neighbours, but by the common brute of the city which reported, that in ten years' space there was not seen in Valencia a marriage more honourable or royal nor frequented with a nobler company of gentleman and ladies, than the same was of a young knight Didaco with a daughter of Senor Ramirio. Wherewith all Violenta vexed beyond measure, pressed with ire and fury, withdrew herself into her chamber alone, and there began to scratch and tear her face and hair, like one that was mad and out of her wits, saying, Alas, alas, what pain and trouble, what immeasurable torment suffereth now my poor, afflicted mind without comfort or consolation of any creature living. Oh, fortune, fortune, the enemy of my felicity and bliss, how I so deprive me of all remedy as I dare not so much as to make any man know or understand my mishap, that the same might be revenged, which being done would render such content to my mind as I should not depart out of this world the best-satisfied maiden that ever died. Alas, that the gods did not grant me the benefit that I might have come of noble kind, to the intent that I might have caused that traitorous ruffian, that fear, the grievous pain and bitter torment which my poor heart sustaineth. Oh, wretched casey, if that I am, abandoned and forlorn of all good and fortune, now I do see that with the eyes of my mind, which with those of my body dazzled and deceived I could not see or perceive. Ah, cruel enemy of all pity, dost thou not know and feel in thy mind the heavy and sorrowful sound of my bitter plains? Understandeth not thou my voice that cryeth vengeance upon thee for thy misdeed? Can not thy cruelty and nothing be diminished, seeing me dismembered with the terror of a thousand furious martyrdoms? Ah, ingreatful wretch, is this now the reward of my love, of my faithful service, ham-mind-impedience? And as she thus bitterly tormented herself, her mother and brethren and her maid, which was brought up with her from her tender years, went up to the chamber to a violenter where they found her then so deformed, with rage and fury, that almost she was out of their knowledge. And when they went about to reduce her by all means possible from those furious pangs, and saw that it nothing availed, they left her in the keeping of the old maiden whom she loved above any other. And after the maiden had uttered under her particularly many reasons for the appeasing of her grief, she told her that if she would be quiet a little while, she would go and speak to the knight Didaco, and make him to understand his fault, and would, with discreet order, so deal with him that he should come home to her house, and therefore she prayed her to arm herself against this wickedness, and to dissemble the matter for a time that hereafter she might use upon him just revenge. No, no, Janique, answered the violenter. That offences very small and light where counsel is received, and albeit that I cannot choose but confess thine advice to be very meet, yet there wanteth in me a mind to follow it. If I did feel any part in me disposed to obey the same, I would, even before thy face, separate that mind from my wretched body. For I am so resolved in the malice and hatred of Didaco, as he cannot satisfy me without life alone. And I believe that gods did cause me to be born with my own hands to execute vengeance of their wrath and the loss of my honor. Wherefore, Janique, if from my love thou didst ever love me, show now the same to me by effect, in a matter where unto thy help is most necessary. For I am so outraged in my mischief, as I do envy the miserableest creatures of the world remaining no more in me to continue life in wailing and continual size, but the title of a vile and abominable hoa. Thou art a stranger, and livest here of beastly life joined with continual labor. I have twelve hundred crowns, with certain jewels which that false traitor gave me, which he predestinated by their heavens for none other purpose but to pay them their hire, which shall do the vengeance upon his disloyal person. I do put the same money now into thy hands, if thou wilt help me make sacrifice with the body of poor Didaco, but if thou dost deny me thy help, I will execute the same alone, and in case he do not die as I do intend, he shall be murdered as I may, for the first time that I shall see him with my eyes, come of it what will, his life shall be dispatched with these two trembling hands which thou seest. Janike, seeing her mistress in these terms, and knowing of her stout nature endued with a manly and invincible stomach, after she had debated many things in her mind she determined wholly to employ herself for her mistress in that she was able to do. Moved partly with pity to see her mistress dishonoured with a defamed marriage, and partly provoked with covetousness to gain so great a sum of money which her mistress did offer if she would condescend to her enterprise, thinking after the fact committed to flee into some other country, and when she was thoroughly resolved upon the same she embraced fire at her and said unto her, Mistress, if you will be ruled by me, and give over the vehemence of your rough and displeasure, I have found a way for you to be revenged upon Didaco, who have so wickedly deceived you, and, albeit the same, cannot be done secretly, but in the end it must be known, yet I doubt not about the cause declared before the judges, and they understanding the wrong he have done you, they will have compassion upon your misery, who know right well that always you have been known and esteemed for a very honest and virtuous maiden, and to the end that you may be informed how this matter may be brought to pass. First you must learn to dissemble your grief openly, and to feign yourself in any wise not to be offended with the new marriage of the night. Then you shall write unto him a letter with your own hand, letting him thereby to understand the pain that you suffer for the great love you bear in, and you shall unbly beseech him sometimes to come and visit you. And, sith that fraught fortune will not suffer you to be his wife, yet that it would please him to use you as his lover, that you may possess the second place of his love, sith by reason of his new wife you cannot enjoy the first. Thus the deceiver shall be beguiled by thinking to have you at his commandment as he was wont to do, and being come hither to lie with you, we will handle him in such wise as I have invented that in one night he shall lose his life, his wife, and her whom he thinketh to have for his lover. For when he is a bed with you, and fallen at his first sleep, we will send him into another place, where in a more sounder sleep he shall everlastingly continue. Violent her, all this time which fed her bloody and cruel heart with none other repast but with rage and disdain, began to be appeased, and found the counselor Genike so good, as she wholly purposed to follow the same. And to begin her enterprise, she prayed Genike for a time to withdraw herself until she had written her letter, by the tenor whereof she should understand with what audacity she would prosecute the rest. And being alone in her chamber, taking pen and paper, she wrote to DiDarco with feigned heart as followeth. Senor DiDarco, I am persuaded, that if you all vowed safe to read and peruse the contents of these my sorrowful letters, you shall be moved with some compassion and pity by beholding the true image of my miserable life, portrayed and painted in the same, which, through your disloyalty and breach of promise, is consumed and spent with so many tears, sighs, torments and griefs, that diverse times I marvel how nature can so long support and defend the violent assaults of so cruel a martyrdom, and that she hath not many times torn my feeble spirit out of this cruel and mortal prison, which maketh me to think and believe, by continuing life, that death himself has conspired my misery, and is the companion of my affliction, considering that by no torment she is able to make the vision between my soul and body. Alas, how many ten hundred thousand times in a day have I called for death, and yet I cannot make her to recline her ears unto my cries. Alas, how many times am I vanquished with the sharp torments of sorrow ready to take my leave and last farewell of you, being arrived to the extreme pangs of death? Behold, thy Darko, mine ordinary delights, behold my pleasures, behold all my pastime. But yet, this is but little in respect of that which chance hath in the night. For if it happened that my poor eyes do fall asleep, weary with insistent drawing forth of wellsprings of tears, slumbering dreams cease not the end of vex and afflict my mind, with the cruelest torments that are possible to be devised, representing unto me by their ugly and horrible visions the joy and contentation of her which enjoys my place, whereby the greatest joy which I conceive is not inferior to cruel death. Thus my life maintained with continuation of sorrows and griefs is persecuted in most miserable ways. Now, as you know, I daily pass my sorrow under painful silence, thinking that your old promises confirmed with so many oaths, and the assured proof which you still have had of my faith and constancy, would have brought you to some order. But now, seeing with mine eyes the hard metal of your heart, and the cruelty of my fate which wholly hath subdued me to your obedience for respect of mine honour, I am forced to complain of him that beateth me, and thereby dispoileth me both of mine honour and life, not vouchsafing only so much as once to come unto me. And uncertain to whom I may make recourse, or where to find redress, I appeal unto you, to the end that seeing what lean and ugly state I am, your cruelty may altogether be satisfied, which beholding a sight so pitiful, wherein the figure of my torment is lively expressed, it may be moved to some compassion. Come hither, then, thou cruel man, come hither, I say, to visit her whom, with some sign of humanity, thou mayst stay, or leastwise, mollify and appease the vengeance which she prepareth for thee. And if ever spark of pity did warm thy frozen heart, arm thyself with greater cruelty than ever thou wast want to do, and come hither to make her sob her last in extreme size whom thou hast wretchedly deceived, for in doing otherwise thou mayst paraventure too late bewail my death, and thy beastly cruelty. And thinking to make a conclusion of her letter, the tears made her words to die in her mouth, and would not suffer her to write any more. Wherefore she closed and sealed the same, and then, calling Genike unto her, she said, Hold, Gen—or Genike, carry these letters unto him, and if thou canst so well play thy part as I have done mine, I hope we shall have shortly at our commandment him that is the occasion of this my painful life, more grievous unto me than a thousand deaths together. Genike, having the letter, departed with diligence, and went to the house of the father-in-law of Didaco, where quietly she waited until she might speak with some of the house, which was within a while after for one of the servants of Didaco whom she knew right well, went about certain his master's business, and beating Genike was abashed, of whom she demanded if the Lord Didaco were within, and said that she would faint speak with him, but if it were possible she would talk with him secretly, whereof Didaco, advertised, came forth to her in the street, to whom smilingly, having made to him a feigned reverence, she said, Senor Didaco, I can neither write nor read, but I dare lay my life, there is suit made unto you by these letters, which Madame Violenta had sent unto you. And indeed, to say the truth, there is great injury done unto you of your part, not in respect of your new marriage, for I never thought that Violenta was a wife meat for you considering the difference of your estates, but because you will not vouchsafed to come unto her, seeming that you make no more account of her, and especially for that you provide no marriage for her in some other place. And assure yourself, she is, so far in love with you, that she is ready to die as she goeth, in such wise that making her complain unto me this day weeping, she said unto me, well, for so much then as I cannot have him to be my husband, I would to God he would maintain me for his friend, and certain times in the week to come and see me, especially in the night, lest he should be a spy to the neighbours. And certainly, if you would follow her mind herein, you should do very well, for the case standeth thus, you may make your avaunt, that you be provided of so fair a wife, and with so beautiful a friend as any gentleman in Valencia. And then Janique delivered him the letter, which he received, and read, and, having well considered the tenor of the same, he was incontinently surprised with a sudden passion, for hatred and pity, love and disdain, as, within a cloud be contained hot and cold, with many contrary winds, began to combat together, and vex his heart with contrary minds. Then, pausing upon answer, he said unto her, Janique, my dear friend, recommend me to the good grace and favour of thy mistress, and say unto her that for this time I will make her no answer, but to-morrow, at four o'clock in the morning, I will be at her house, and keep her company all the day and night, and then I will tell her what I have done since I departed last from her, trusting she shall have no cause to be offended with me. And then Janique, taking her leave, returned toward Violenta, telling her what she had done. To whom Violenta answered, Janique, if thou has made a good beginning to our plot in enterprise, I likewise, on my part, have not slept. For I have devised, that we must provide for a strong rope, which we will fasten to the bedside, and when he shall be asleep, I will cast the other end of the rope to thee, overthwart the bed, that thou mayst pluck the same with all thy might, and before that beginnest to pull, I will, with a knife, cut his throat, wherefore, thou must prepare two great knives, whatsoever they cost, but I pray thee, let me alone with doing of the fact that I may dispatch him of his life, which alone did make the first assault to the breach of mine honour. Janique knew so well how to provide for all that was requisite for the execution of their enterprise, as there rested nothing but opportunity to sort their cruel purpose to effect. The night, Sir DiDarco, at the hour appointed, told his new wife that he must go into the country to take order for the state of his land, and that he could not return till next day in the morning. Which she, by and by, believed, and the better to cover his fact, he caused two horses to be made ready, and rode forth when the clock struck four. And when he had ridden through a certain street, he said to his man, which was won't to serve his turn in love-matters, carry my horse to such a manner in the country, and tarry there all this day, and to-morrow morning come seek me in such a place, when I am gone from the house of Violenta. In the meantime, set my horse in some inn, for in any wise I will have no man know that I do lie there. Which done, the master and the servant went to several ways. The night, being come to the house of Violenta, he found Genike tarrying for him with good devotion to use him according to his dessert, and conveyed him to the chamber of Violenta. And then she returned about her business. The night kissed Violenta, and bade her good morrow, asking her how she did. Whom Violenta answered, Sir Didaco, you bid me good morrow in words, but indeed you go about to prepare me for a heavy and sorrowful life. I believe that you are my bearer of witness of the state of my welfare, for you have brought me to such extremity that you see right well how nothing else but my voice declareeth me to be a woman, and therewith all so feeble a creature, as I still crave and call for death or pity, although both of the one and of the other I am not heard at all. And yet, think not, Didaco, that I am so far out my wits to believe that the cause of my writing letter was for hope that you, remembering my bitter pains in your own heinous crime, I could ever move you to pity, for I am persuaded that you will never cease to exhaust and suck the blood, honour and life of them that credit your trumperees and deceits, as now by experience I know myself with such deadly sorrow that I still attend and look for the sorrowful end of my life. Didaco, seeing her thus afflicted, fearing that her collar would further inflame, began to cull her and to take her now into his arms, telling her that his marriage with the daughter of Villieracuta was concluded more by force than his own will and mind, because they pretended to have a gift of all the land and goods he had in succession after his father was dead, which, if they did obtain by law, he should be a beggar all the days of his life, and that the same was done to provide for the quiet state of them both, and notwithstanding he had married another wife, yet he purposed to love none but her, and meant in time to poison his wife and to spend the rest of his life with her. And thus, seeming to remedy his former fault by surmised reports, chanting upon the chords of his pleasant tongue, he thought with court-like allurements to appease her which had her wits too well sharpened to be twice taken in one trap. How, be it for fear of driving him away and to lose the mean to accomplish that which she intended, she said under him with forced smiling, Sir DiDarco, although you have so ill used me in time past as I have no great cause to believe your present words, yet the love that I bear you is so rooted in my heart, as the fault must be very great which should remove the same. In consideration whereof, I will constrain myself to believe that your words be true, upon condition that you will swear and promise to lie with me here once or twice a week, for may think that if I might at times enjoy your presence, I should remain in some part of your grace and favour, and live the best contented woman alive, whereon too he willingly agree with a great number of other like protestations prompt and ready in them which mean deceit. But if the poor miserable woman had pierced the same in the depth of her heart, and had credited all that he spake, no doubt he would have changed his mind. Thus either parties spent the day in cold and dissembled flatteries till dark a night with his accustomed silence to deliver them the mean to exercise their cruel fact. So soon as supper was done, DiDarco and Violenta walked up and down together, talking of certain common matters till the night, pressed with sleep, commanded his bed to be made ready. It needed not then to inquire with what diligence Violenta and Janikey obeyed his request, in whom only as they thought consisted the hap or mishap of their intent, to whom, because Violenta might show herself more affectionate, went first to bed, and so soon as they were laid, Janikey drew the curtains and took away DiDarco's sword, and making as though she had a thing to do under the bed, she fastened the rope and raked up the fire which was in the chimney, carrying a stool to the bedside, and laid upon the same two great kitchen knives, which done she put out the candle, and feigning to go out of the chamber, she shut the door and went in again. And then the poor and fortunate night, thinking that he was alone in the chamber with Violenta, began to clip and kiss her, whereon too she made no refusal, but desirous to renew his old private toys, she prayed him of all love that he bear unto her to keep truce for two or three hours, for that the night was long enough to satisfy the desires, affirming that it was impossible for her to wake, because five or six days before, by reason of her grief, she had not slept at all, not withstanding, she said, that after her first sleep she would willingly obey him. Whereon too the gentleman was easily persuaded as well, because he had elsewhere sufficiently staunched his thirst, as also for that he was loath to displease her, and feigning herself to sleep, she turned her face to the other side, and in that wise continued till the poor gentleman was fallen into his sound sleep. Then Ginike softly conveyed the rope over his body, and gave it to Violenta, and after she had placed it according to her mind, as they together had devised before, she delivered the end to Ginike, who being at the bedside sat down upon the ground, and folding the rope about her arms hoisted her two feet against the bed to pull with greater force when need required. Not long after Violenta took one of the great knives, and lifting herself up softly, she proved with her hand to seek a place most meat for her to stab a hole into her enemy's flesh, and enchanted with wrath, rage, and fury like another Medea, thrust the point of the knife with such force into his throat as she pierced it through, and the poor unhappy man thinking to resist the same by giving some repulse against that adverse and heavy fortune was appalled, who feeling a new charge given upon him again, especially being intricate with the rope, was not able to stir hand nor foot, and through the excessive violence of the pain, his speech and power to cry was taken away, in such sort that after he had received 10 or 12 mortal wounds one after another, his poor martyred soul departed from his sorrowful body. Violenta, having ended her determined enterprise, commanded Ginike to light the candle, and approaching near the night's face, she saw by and by that he was without life. Then, not able to satisfy her bloody heart, nor yet to quench her furious rage which boiled in her stomach, she, with the point of the knife, tear out the eyes from his head, crying out upon them with Hidia's voice as if they had been alive. Ah treacherous eyes, the messengers of a mind most villainous that ever sojourned within the body of man, come out of your shameless siege forever, for the spring of your feigned tears is now exhausted and dried up. Then she played the butcher upon those insensible members, continuing still her rage, and cruelly seized upon the tongue, which with her bloody hands she hailed out of his mouth, and beholding the same with a murderous eye as she was cutting it off, said, O abominable and perjured tongue, how many lives didst thou frame in the same before thou couldst with the cannon shot of this poisoned member make breach into my virginity, whereof now being deprived by thy means, I frankly accelerate myself to death, whereunto thou presently hast opened the way. And when she had separated this little member from the rest of the body, insatiable of cruelty, with the knife ripped a violent hole into his stomach, and launching her cruel hands upon his heart she tear it from the place, and gashing the same with many blows, she said, Ah vile heart, harder than the diamond whose anvil forged the unfortunate traps of these my cruel destinies, O that I could have discovered thy cogitations in time past as I do now thy material substance that I might have been preserved from thine abominable treason and detestable infidelity. Then fleshing herself upon the dead body, as a hungry lion upon his prey, she left no part of him unwounded. And when she had mangled his body all over with an infinite number of gashes, she cried out, Oh, infected carrion, why lom an organ and instrument of the most unfaithful and traitorous mind that ever was under the cope of heaven, now thou art paid with dessert, worthy of thy merits. Then she said to Jenike, which with great terror had all this while viewed her play this pageant. Jenike, I feel myself now so eased of pain. To come death when he will, he shall find me strong and lusty to endure his furious assault, which of long time I have assayed. Help me then to train this corpse out of my father's house wherein I was first deflowered. Then I will tell you what I shall do. For like as mine honestly estained and published abroad, even so will I the revenge to be manifest, craving that his body may be exposed to the view of all men, whose request Jenike obeyed. And then she and Violenta took the body, and threw it out at one of the chamber windows down upon the pavement of the street with all the parts which she had cut off. That done, she said to Jenike, take this casket with the money within the same, and ship thyself at the next port thou shalt come to, and get thee over into Africa to save thy life so speedily as thou canst, and never come into these parts again, nor to any other where thou art known. Which Jenike purposed to do, although Violenta had not counselled her there unto, and ready to depart, she gave a sorrowful farewell to her mistress, and betook herself to her good fortune. And from that time forth no man could tell whether she went for all the pursuit made after her. So soon as day appeared, the first that passed by the street aspired the dead body, which by reason of the noise and brute made throughout the town caused many people to come and see it. But no man knew what he was being disfigured as well by reason of the eyes torn out of his head as for other parts mutilated and deformed. And about eight o'clock in the morning there was such a multitude of people assembled as it was in manner impossible to come near it. The most part thought that some thieves in the night had committed that murder, which opinions seemed to be true because he was in his shirt. Other some were of contrary opinion, and Violenta, which was at the window, hearing their sundry opinions came down and with a bold courage and stout voice that every man might hear said, Sirs, you do contend upon a thing whereof, if I were demanded the question of the magistrates of this city, I am able to render assured testimony, and without great difficulty this murder cannot be discovered by any other but by me, which words the people did soon believe, thinking the diverse gentleman jealous of Violenta had made a fray, for she had now lost her ancient reputation by means of Didaco, who, as the fame and common report was brooded, did keep her. When she had spoken these words, the judges were incontinentally advertised as well of the murder of that which Violenta had said, and went to their with sergeants and officers where they found Violenta more stout than any of the standards by, and inquired of her immediately how that murder came to pass. But she, without fear or apporment, made this answer. He that you see here dead is the Lord Didaco, and because it appertains to many to understand the truth of his death, as his father-in-law, his wife, and other kinsmen, I would in their presence, if it pleased you, to cause them to be called hither, declare what I know. The magistrates, amazed to see so great a Lord, so cruelly slain, committed her to war till after dinner, and commanded that all but before names should be summoned to appear, who assembled in the palace with such a number of the people as the judges could scant have place. Violenta, in the presence of them all, without any rage or passion, first of all recounted unto them the chaste love between Didaco and her, which he continued the space of fourteen or fifteen months, without receiving any fruit or commodity thereof. Within a while after he, being vanquished with love, married her secretly at her house, and solemnised and abductuals by a priest unknown, declaring moreover how they had lived a year together in household without any occasion of offence, on her part given unto him, then she rehearsed before them his second marriage, with the daughter of such a man, being there present, adding for conclusion that Scythia had made her to lose her honesty, she had sought means to make him lose his life, which she executed with the help of Ginike, her maid, who by her advice being loath to live any longer had drowned herself. And after she had declared the true state of the matter passed between them, she said for conclusion that all she had rehearsed was not to incite or move them to pity or compassion thereby to prolong her life, whereas she judged herself unworthy. For if you, growth she, do suffer me to escape your hands thinking to save my body, you shall be the cause and whole ruin of my soul. For with these my own hands which you see before you, I will desperately cut the thread of this my life. And with those words she held her peace, whereas the people amazed and moved with pity, let fall the lukewarm tears from their dolerous eyes and lamented the misfortune of that poor creature, imputing the fault upon the dead knight which under colour of marriage had deceived her. The magistrates, determining further to deliberate upon the matter, caused the dead body to be buried, and committed violenter again to ward, taking away from her knives and other weapons, wherewith they thought she might hurt herself. And use such diligent search and inquiry that the priest which married them was found out, and the servant of Didaco that was present at the marriage of violenter being examined, deposed how by his master's commandment he carried his horse into the country, and how he commanded him to come to him again the next morning to the house of violenter. And all things were so well brought to light as nothing wanted for further investigation of the truth, but only the confession of him that was dead. And violenter, by the common opinion of the judges, was condemned to be beheaded, not only for that she had resumed to punish the knight's trumpery and offence, but for her excessive cruelty done upon the dead body. Thus unfortunate violenter ended her life, her mother and brethren being acquitted, and was executed in the presence of the Duke of Calabria, the son of King Frederick of Aragon, which was at that time the viceroy there, and afterwards died at Torrey in France, who, incontinently after, caused this history to be registered with other things worthy of remembrance chanced in his time at Valencia. Vandelo doth write that the maid Janique was put to death with her mistress. But Palludanus, a Spaniard, alive at that time, writeeth an excellent history in Latin wherein he certainly declared that she was never apprehended, which opinion, as most probable, I have followed. Please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Ralph Snelson The Duplicity of Hard Graves by O. Henry When Major Pendleton Talbot, a mobileser, and his daughter, Miss Lydia Talbot, came to Washington to reside, they selected for a boarding-place a house that stood fifty yards back from one of the quietest avenues. It was an old-fashioned brick building, with a porticole upheld by tall white pillars. The yard was shaded by stately locusts and elms, and a catalpentry in season rained its pink and white blossoms upon the grass. Rows of high-box bushes lined the fence and walks. It was the southern style and aspect of the place that pleased the eyes of the Talbots. In this pleasant private boarding house they engaged rooms, including a study for Major Talbot, who was adding the finishing chapters to his book, anecdotes, and reminiscences of the Alabama Army, Bench, and Bar. Major Talbot was of the old, old South. The present day had little interest or excellence in his eyes. His mind lived in that period before the Civil War, when the Talbots owned thousands of acres of fine cotton land and the slaves to tell them. When the family mansion was the scene of princely hospitality and drew its guests from the aristocracy of the South, out of that period he had brought all its old pride and scruples of honor, an antiquated and punctilious politeness, and, you would think, its wardrobe. Such clothes were surely never made within 50 years. The Major was tall, but whenever he made that wonderful archaic genuflection he called a bow, the corners of his frock coats swept the floor. That garment was a surprise even to Washington, which has long ago ceased to shy at the frocks and broad-frimmed hats of southern congressmen. One of the boarders christened it a father-hover, and it certainly was high in the waist and full in the skirt. But the Major, with all his queer clothes, his immense area of plaited, raveling shirt bosom and the little black string tie with the bow always slipping on one side, both was smiled at and liked in Ms. Vardeman's select boarding-house. Some of the young department clerks would often string him, as they called it, getting him started upon the subject dearest to him, the traditions and histories of his beloved Southland. During his talks he would quote freely from the anecdotes and reminiscences, but they were very careful not to let him see their designs, for in spite of his sixty-eight years he could make the boldest of them uncomfortable under the steady regard of his piercing gray eyes. Ms. Lydia was a plump little old maid of thirty-five, with smoothly drawn, tightly twisted hair that made her look still older. Old fashion, too, she was, but antebellum glory did not radiate from her as it did from the Major. She possessed a thrifty common sense, and it was she who handled the finances of the family and met all comers when there were bills to pay. The Major regarded board bills and washed bills as contemptible nuisances. They kept coming in so persistently and so often. Why, the Major wanted to know, could they not be filed and paid in a lump sum at some convenient period, when the anecdotes and reminiscences had been published and paid for? Ms. Lydia would calmly go on with her sewing and say, we'll pay as we go as long as the money lasts, and then perhaps they'll have to lump it. Most of Mrs. Vardeman's boarders were away during the day, being nearly all department clerks and businessmen, but there was one of them who was about the house a great deal from morning to night. This was a young man named Henry Hopkins Hargraves. Everyone in the house addressed him by his full name, who was engaged at one of the popular Vaudville theatres. Vaudville has risen to such a respectable plane in the last few years, and Mr. Hargraves was such a modest and well-mannered person that Mrs. Vardeman could find no objection to enrolling him upon her list of boarders. At the theatre Hargraves was known as an all-round dialect comedian, having a large repertoire of German, Irish, Swedish, and black-faced specialties. But Mr. Hargraves was ambitious and often spoke of his great desire to succeed in legitimate comedy. This young man appeared to conceive a strong fancy for Major Talbot. Whenever that gentleman would begin his southern reminiscences or repeat some of the liveliest of the anecdotes, Hargraves could always be found, the most attentive among his listeners. For a time the Major showed an inclination to discourage the advances of the play actor, as he privately termed him, but soon the young man's agreeable manner and indubitable appreciation of the old gentleman's stories completely won him over. It was not long before the two were like old chums. The Major set apart each afternoon to read to him the manuscript of his book. During the anecdotes, Hargraves never failed to laugh at exactly the right point. The Major was moved to declare to Ms. Lydia one day that young Hargraves possessed remarkable perception and a gratifying respect for the old regime. And when it came to talking of those old days, if Major Talbot liked to talk, Mr. Hargraves was entranced to listen. Like almost all old people who talk of the past, the Major loved to linger over details. In describing the splendid, almost royal days of the old planters, he would hesitate until he had recalled the name of the negro who held his horse, or the exact date of certain minor happenings, or the number of bales of cotton raised in such a year. But Hargraves never grew impatient or lost interest. On the contrary, he would advance questions on a variety of subjects connected with the life of that time, and he never failed to extract ready replies. The fox hunts, the possum sufferers, the hodowns and jubilees in the negro quarters, the banquets in the plantation house hall, when invitations went for fifty miles around, the occasional feuds with the neighboring gentry, the Major's duel with Rathbone Culbertson about Titty Chalmers, who afterward married a quaint of South Carolina, and private yacht races for fabulous sums on Mobile Bay, the quaint beliefs, improbable habits, and loyal virtues of the old slaves. All these were subjects that held both the Major and Hargraves absorbed for hours at a time. Sometimes at night, when the young man would be coming upstairs to his room after his turn at the theater was over, the Major would appear at the door of his study and beckon archly to him. Going in, Hargraves would find a little table set with a decanter, sugar bowl, fruit, and a big bunch of fresh green mint. It occurred to me, the Major would begin, he was always ceremonious, that perhaps you might have found your duties at your place of occupation sufficiently arduous to enable you, Mr. Hargraves, to appreciate what the poet might well have had in his mind when he wrote Tired Nature's Sweet Restore, one of our Southern Julips. It was a fascination to Hargraves to watch him make it. He took rank among artists when he began, and he never varied the process. With what delicacy he bruised the mint, with what exquisite nicety he estimated the ingredients, with what solicitous care he capped the compound with the scarlet fruit glowing against the dark green fringe, and then the hospitality and grace with which he offered it after the selected oat straws had been plunged into its tinkling depths. After about four months in Washington, Ms. Lydia discovered one morning that they were almost without money. The anecdotes and reminiscences was completed, but publishers had not jumped at the collected gems of Alabama scents and wit. The rental of a small house, which they still owned in Mobile, was two months in arrears. Their bored money for the month would be due in three days. Ms. Lydia called her father to a consultation. No money, said he with a surprised look. It is quite annoying to be called on so frequently for these petty sums. Really, I—the major searched his pockets. He found only a $2 bill, which he returned to his best pocket. I must attend to this at once, Lydia, he said. Kindly get my umbrella, and I will go downtown immediately. The congressman from our district, General Fulgham, assured me some days ago that he would use his influence to get my book published at an early date. I will go to his hotel at once and see what arrangement has been made. With a sad little smile, Ms. Lydia watched him button his father hovered and depart, pausing at the door, as he always did, to bow profoundly. That evening, at dark, he returned. It seemed that Congressman Fulgham had seen the publisher who had the major's manuscript for reading. That person had said that if the anecdotes and so on were carefully pruned down about one half, in order to eliminate the sectional and class prejudice with which the book was dyed from end to end, he might consider its publication. The major was in white heat of anger, but regained his equanimity according to his court of manners as soon as he was in Ms. Lydia's presence. We must have money, said Ms. Lydia, with a little wrinkle above her nose. Give me the two dollars, and I will telegraph to Uncle Ralph for some tonight. The major drew a small envelope from his upper vest pocket and tossed it on the table. Perhaps it was injudicious, he said mildly, but the sum was so merely nominal that I bought tickets to the theatre tonight. It's a new war drama, Lydia. I thought you would be pleased to witness its first production in Washington. I am told that the South has very fair treatment in the play. I confess I should like to see the performance myself. Ms. Lydia threw up her hands in silent despair. Still, as the tickets were bought, they might as well be used. So that evening, as they sat in the theatre listening to the lively overture, even Ms. Lydia was minded to relegate their troubles for the hour to second place. The major, in spotless linen with his extraordinary colch showing only where it was closely buttoned, and his white hair smoothly rose, looked really fine and distinguished. The curtain went up on the first act of a magnolia flower, revealing a typical Southern plantation scene. Major Talbot betrayed some interest. O. C., exclaimed Ms. Lydia, nudging his arm and pointing to her program. The major put on his glasses and read the line and the cast of characters that her fingers indicated. Colonel Webster Calvoun, Mr. Hopkins Hardraves. It's a hard, Mr. Hardraves, said Ms. Lydia. It must be his first appearance in what he calls the legitimate. I'm so glad for him. Not until the second act did Colonel Webster Calvoun appear upon the stage. When he made his entry, Major Talbot gave an audible sniff, blared at him, and seemed a free solid. Ms. Lydia uttered a little ambiguous squeak and crumpled her program in her hand. Or Colonel Calvoun was made up as nearly resembling Major Talbot as one P. does another. The long, thin, white hair, curly at the ends, the aristocratic beak of a nose, the crumpled, wide, raveling shirt front, the string tie with the bow nearly under one ear were almost exactly duplicated. And then, to cleanse the imitation, he wore the twin to the major's supposed to be unparalleled coat. High-collared, baggy, empire-waisted, ample-skirted, hanging a foot lower in front than behind, the garment could have been designed from no other pattern. From then on the Major and Ms. Lydia sat bewitched and saw the counterfeit presentment of a haughty Talbot dragged, as the Major afterward expressed it, through the slanderous mire of a corrupt stage. Mr. Hargraves had used his opportunities well. He had caught the Major's little idiosyncrasies of speech, accent, and inclination, and his pompous courtliness to perfection, exaggerating all to the purpose of the stage. When he performed that marvelous bow that the Major Bondi imagined to be the pink of all salutations, the audience sent forth a sudden round of hearty applause. Ms. Lydia sat immovable, not daring to glance toward her father. Sometimes her hand next to him would be laid against her cheek, as if to conceal the smile which, in spite of her disapproval, she could not entirely suppress. The culmination of Hargraves' audacious imitation took place in the third act. The scene is where Colonel Calhoun entertains a few of the neighboring planters in his den. Standing at a table in the center of the stage with his friends grouped about him, he delivers that inimitable, rambling character monologue so famous in a magnolia flower, at the same time that he deftly makes duels for the party. Major Talbot, sitting quietly but fight with indignation, heard his best stories retold, his pet theories and hobbies advanced and expanded, and the dream of the anecdotes and reminiscences served, exaggerated and garbled. His favorite narrative, that of his duel with Rathbone Culberson, was not omitted, and it was delivered with more fire, egotism and gusto than the major himself put into it. The monologue concluded with a quaint, delicious, witty little lecture on the art of concocting a Jula, illustrated by the act. Here Major Talbot's delicate but showy science was reproduced to a hare's breath from his dainty handling of the fragrant weed, the one-thousandth part of a grain too much pressure, gentlemen, and you extract the bitterness instead of the aroma of this heaven-bestowed plant, to its solicitous selection of the open straws. At the close of the scene, the audience raised a tumultuous roar of appreciation, the portrayal of the type was so exact, so sure and thorough that the leading characters in the play were forgotten. After repeated calls, hard graves came before the curtain and bowed, his rather boy's face bright and flushed with the knowledge of success. At last Miss Lydia turned and looked at the Major. His thin nostrils were working like the gills of a fish. He laid both shaking hands upon the arms of his chair to rise. We will go, Lydia, he said jokingly. This is an abominable desecration. Before he could rise, she pulled him back into his seat. We will stay it out, she declared. Do you want to advertise the copy by exhibiting the original coat? So they remained to the end. Hardgrave's success must have kept him up late that night, for neither at the breakfast nor at the dinner table did he appear. About three in the afternoon he tapped at the door of Major Talbot's study. The Major opened it, and Hardgrave walked in with his hands full of the morning papers, too full of his triumph to notice anything unusual in the Major's demeanor. I put it all over him last night, Major. He began exultantly. I had my inning, and I think scored. Here's what the post says. His conception and portrayal of the old-time Southern Colonel, with his absurd grand delinquents, his eccentric garb, his quaint idioms and phrases, his moth-eaten pride of family, and his really kind heart, fastidious sense of honor and lovable simplicity is the best delineation of a character role on the boards today. The coat worn by Colonel Calhoun is itself nothing less than an evolution of genius. Mr. Hardgrave's has captured his public. How does that sound, Major, for a first nighter? I had the honor—the Major's voice sounded ominously frigid—of witnessing your remarkable performance, sir, last night. Hardgrave's looked disconcerted. You were there? I didn't know you ever—I didn't know you cared for the theater. Oh, I say, Major Talbot, to be explained frankly. Don't you be offended? I admit I did get a lot of pointers from you that helped me out wonderfully in the part, but it's a type, you know, not individual. The way the audience caught on shows that. Half the patrons of that theater are Southerners. They recognized it. Mr. Hardgrave's, said the Major, who had remained standing. You have put upon me an unpardonable insult. You have burlesque my person grossly, betrayed my confidence, and misused my hospitality. If I thought you possessed the faintest conception of what is the sign, manual of a gentleman, or what is do one, I would call you out, sir, old as I am. I will ask you to leave the room, sir. The actor appeared to be slightly bewildered and seemed hardly to take in the full meaning of the old gentleman's words. I am truly sorry you took offense, he said regretfully. Up here we don't look at things just as you people do. I know men who would buy out half the house to have their personality put on the stage so the public would recognize it. They are not from Alabama, sir, said the Major, haughtily. Perhaps not. I have a pretty good memory, Major. Let me quote a few lines from your book. In response to a toast at a banquet given in Mellidgeville, I believe you uttered and intend to have printed these words. The northern man is utterly without sentiment or warrant, except insofar as the feelings may be turned to his own commercial profit. He will suffer without resentment any imputation cast upon the honor of himself, or his loved ones that does not bear with it the consequences of pecuniary loss. In his charity he gives with a liberal hand, but it must be heralded with the trumpets and chronicle in brass. Do you think that picture is fairer than the one you saw of Colonel Calhoun last night? The description, said the Major frowning, is not without grounds. Some exiled latitude must be allowed in public speaking. And in public acting, replied Hardraves. That is not the point, persisted the Major, unrelenting. It was a personal caricature. I positively declined to overlook it, sir. Major Talbot, said Hardraves with a winning smile. I wish you would understand me. I want you to know that I never dreamed of insulting you. In my profession, all life belongs to me. I take what I want and what I can. And return it over the footlights. Now, if you will, let's let it go with that. I came in to see you about something else. We've been pretty good friends for some months, and I'm going to take the risk of offending you again. I know you are hard up for money. Never mind how I found out. A boarding house is no place to keep such matters secret. And I want you to let me help you out of the pinch. I've been there often in a myself. I've been getting a fair salary all the season, and I've saved some money. You're welcome to a couple hundred, or even more, until you get stop, commanded Major, with his arm outstretched. It seems that my book didn't lie, after all. You think your money-sab will heal all the hurts of honor. Under no circumstances would I accept a loan from a casual acquaintance, and as to usur, I would starve before I would consider your insulting offer of a financial adjustment of the circumstances we have discussed. I beg to repeat my request relative to your quitting the apartment. Our graves took his departure without another word. He also left the house the same day, moving, as Miss Barteman explained at the supper table, near the vicinity of the downtown theater, where a magnolia flower was booked for a week's run. Critical was the situation with Major Talbot and Miss Lydia. There was no one in Washington to whom the major scruples allowed him to apply for a loan. Miss Lydia wrote a letter to Uncle Ralph, but it was doubtful whether that relative's constricted affairs would permit him to furnish help. The major was forced to make an apologetic address to Mrs. Barteman regarding the delayed payment for board, referring to delinquent rentals and delayed remittances in a rather confused strain. Deliverance came from an entirely unexpected source. Late one afternoon the doormate came up and announced an old colored man who wanted to see Major Talbot. The major asked that he be sent up to his study. Soon an old darky appeared in the doorway with his hat in hand, bowing and scraping with one clumsy foot. He was quite decently dressed in a baggy suit of black. His big coarse shoes shone with a metallic luster suggestive of stove polish. His bushy wool was gray, almost white. After middle life it is difficult to estimate the age of a negro. This one might have seen as many years as had Major Talbot. I'd be bound you don't know me, Mars Pendleton, for his first words. The major rose and came forward at the old familiar style of address. It was one of the old plantation darkies without a doubt, but they had been widely scattered and he could not recall the voice or face. I don't believe I do, he said kindly, unless you will assist my memory. Don't you remember Cindy's mose, Mars Pendleton, but migrated immediately after the war? Wait a moment, said the major, rubbing his forehead with the tips of his fingers. He loved to recall everything connected with those beloved days. Cindy's mose, he reflected. You worked among the horses, breaking the coals. Yes, I remember now. After the surrender you took the name of, don't prompt me, Mitchell, and went to the west to Nebraska. Yes, sir, yes, sir, the old man's face stretched with a delighted grin. That's him, that's it. Nebraska, that's me, Mose Mitchell. Old Uncle Mose Mitchell, they call me now. Old Mars, your pa, give me a pa, damn mule colt, when I left for to stop me going with. You remember, damn colt, Mars Pendleton? I don't seem to recall the colt, said the major. You know, I was married the first year of the war and living at the old Collinsby Place. But sit down, sit down, Uncle Mose. I'm glad to see you. I hope you have prospered. Uncle Mose took a chair and laid his hat carefully on the floor beside it. Yes, sir, late I'd done mighty famous. When I first got to Nebraska, the folks come all round me to see them mule colt. They ain't see no mule like them in Nebraska. I sold them mules for three hundred dollars. Yes, sir, three hundred. Then I opened a blacksmith's shop, son, and made some money and bought some land. Me and my old woman done raised up seven children and all doing well, sat through them, what died. Four years ago, a railroad come along and started to slam against my land and some Mars Pendleton, Uncle Mose, are worth eleven thousand dollars in money, property, and land. I'm glad to hear it, said the major hardly. Glad to hear it. And that little baby of your own Mars Pendleton, one what you name Miss Liddy, I bebound that little tad done grown up, tell nobody wouldn't know her. The major stepped to the door and called, Liddy, dear, will you come? Miss Liddy, a looking quite grown up and a little worried, came in from her room. Darnell, what I tell you, I know that baby done be plumb grown up. You don't remember Uncle Mose, child? This is Aunt Cindy's mules, Liddy, explained the major. He left Sonny Mead for the West when you were two years old. Well, said Miss Liddy, I can hardly be expected to remember you, Uncle Mose, at that age. And did you say I'm plumb grown up and was a blessed long time ago, but I'm glad to see you even if I can't remember you. And she was, and so was the major. Something alive and tangible had come to link them with the happy past. The three sat and talked over the olden times, the major and Uncle Mose correcting or prompting each other as they reviewed the plantations, scenes, and days. The major inquired what the old man was doing so far from his home. Uncle Mose am a delicate, he explained, to the grand Baptist convention in this city. I never preached none, but being a residing elderly in the church and able for to pay my own expenses, they sent me along. And how did you know we were in Washington? inquired Miss Liddy. There's a colored man works in the hotel where I stops, what comes from Mobile. He told me he's seen Mars Pendleton coming out in this year house one morning. When I come for, went to your Uncle Mose reaching into his pocket, beside the side of home folks was to pay Mars Pendleton what I owe him. Yes sir, three hundred dollars. He handed the major a roll of bells. When I left, Old Mose says, take them mule colts, Mose, and if it be so, you get sable, pay for them. Yes sir, them was his word. The war had done left Old Mose Paul himself. Old Mose, being long ago dead, the debt descends to Mars Pendleton. Three hundred dollars, Uncle Mose, is plenty able to pay now. When that railroad by my land I laid off to pay for them mules. Count the money, Mars Pendleton, that's what I sold them mules for, yes sir. Tears were in major Talbot's eyes. He took Uncle Mose's hand and laid his other upon his shoulder. Dear faithful old servitor, you said in an unsteady voice, I don't mind saying to you that Mars Pendleton spent his last dollar in the world a week ago. We will accept this money, Uncle Mose, since in a way it is a sort of payment as well as a token of the loyalty and devotion of the old regime. Lydia, my dear, take the money. You are better fitted than I to manage its expenditure. Take it, honey, said Uncle Mose. It belongs to you. It's Talbot money. After Uncle Mose had gone, Miss Lydia had a good cry or joy, and the major turned his face to a corner and smoked his clay pipe volcanically. The succeeding dave saw the Talbot's restored to peace and ease. Miss Lydia's face lost its worried look. The major appeared in a new frock coat in which he looked like a wax figure personifying the memory of his golden age. Another publisher who read the manuscript of the anecdotes and reminiscences thought that with a little retouching and toning down of the highlights he could make a really bright and saleable volume on it. All together the situation was comfortable, and not without the touch of hope that is often sweeter than a rye blessing. One day, about a week after their peace of good luck, a maid brought a letter for Miss Lydia to her room. The postmark showed that it was from New York. Not knowing anyone there, Miss Lydia, in a mild plethora of wonder, sat down by her table and opened the letter with her scissors. This was what she read. Dear Miss Talbot, I thought you might be glad to learn of my good fortune. I have received and accepted an offer of two hundred dollars per week by a New York stock company to play Colonel Calhoun in a Magnolia flower. There is something else I wanted you to know. I guess you'd better not tell Major Talbot. I was anxious to make him some amends for the great help he was to me in studying the part, and for the bad humor he was in about it. He refused to let me, so I did it anyhow. I could easily spare the three hundred. Sincerely yours, E. Hopkins Hardraves. P. S. How did I play Uncle Moe's? Major Talbot passing through the hall saw Miss Lydia's door open and stop. Any mail for us this morning, Lydia, dear? Yes. Miss Lydia slid the letter beneath a fold of her dress. The mobile chronicle came, she said promptly. It's on the table in your study. End of the Duplicity of Hardraves.