The Shakespeare Story-Book. Уильям Шекспир

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      “Nothing, unless you render her again,” said Don Pedro.

      “Sweet Prince, you teach me noble thankfulness. There, Leonato, take her back again.”

      And then Claudio, as he had sworn, in the presence of the whole congregation, brought forth his terrible accusations against Hero, and declared he would not marry her. Stung to fury by what he considered her wickedness and deceit – for the young girl’s blushing modesty and grace appeared to him nothing but seeming – he related what he and the Prince had seen the night before, and how Hero had spoken out of her window with a ruffian. It was useless for Hero to protest her innocence; nothing could destroy the evidence of their own eyes.

      Unable to endure this cruel and astounding calumny, Hero sank fainting to the ground. Don Pedro, Claudio, and Don John left the church; the amazed wedding guests dispersed; and Leonato, Beatrice, Benedick, and the Friar were left alone with the unhappy Hero.

      “How doth the lady?” asked Benedick, approaching the spot where Beatrice was eagerly trying to recall her cousin to consciousness.

      “Dead, I think,” cried Beatrice in despair. “Help, uncle! Hero – why, Hero! Uncle! Signor Benedick! Friar!”

      “Death is the fairest cover for her shame that can be wished for,” said the heart-broken father.

      “How now, Cousin Hero!” said Beatrice, as the young girl slowly opened her dazed eyes.

      “Have comfort, lady,” said the Friar tenderly.

      “Do you look up?” said Leonato.

      “Yes; wherefore should she not?” said the Friar.

      In his terrible grief, not questioning the truth of the story, Leonato declared that death was the happiest thing that could happen to Hero after such dishonour, and that if her spirit had strength enough to survive such shame, he could almost be tempted to kill her with his own hands.

      “Sir, sir, be patient!” pleaded Benedick. “For my part, I am so attired in wonder I do not know what to say.”

      “Upon my soul, my cousin is belied!” exclaimed Beatrice.

      Then the Friar stepped forward, and declared his absolute belief in Hero’s innocence, and his words were so clear and convincing that even Leonato began to think his daughter must be wrongfully accused. The mystery was puzzling, for, as Benedick remarked, the Prince and Claudio were the soul of honour, and were only too terribly convinced themselves of the truth of what they had said. If they had been misled in any way, it must be the work of Don John, who delighted in planning deeds of villainy.

      By the good Friar’s advice, it was agreed that for the present Hero should stay secretly in retirement, so that the outside world should imagine she was really dead. Slander would then be changed to remorse, and she would be lamented, excused, and pitied by everyone. For it generally falls out that we do not prize to its full worth what we have; but when it is lacked and lost, then we appreciate its value. So it would fare with Claudio. When he should hear that Hero had died at his words, the sweet remembrance of her lovely life would creep into his soul; then he would mourn and wish he had not so accused her.

      “Signor Leonato, let the Friar advise you,” said Benedick. “And though you know my loyalty and love to the Prince and Claudio, yet by mine honour I will deal as secretly and justly in this matter as your soul would with your body.”

      So it was agreed, and then the good Friar and Leonato took away Hero to put their plan into execution.

      Left alone with Benedick, Beatrice’s rage and indignation found full vent. She was justly furious at the indignity that had been put on her gentle cousin, and though for a moment Benedick won her to a lighter mood by confessing his love for her, yet she speedily returned to the subject of which her heart was full.

      “Oh that I were a man!” she cried, her one desire being to revenge Hero, and punish the dastards who had wrought such an insult on her. If Benedick really loved her, she declared, he would take this office on himself and kill Claudio.

      “Kill Claudio!”

      Benedick hesitated. No, he could not do that. Claudio was his friend… But he loved Beatrice; her generous, whole-hearted sympathy for her cousin could not but prevail with one of Benedick’s chivalrous nature.

      “Think you in your soul that Count Claudio has wronged Hero?” he asked solemnly.

      “Yes, as surely as I have a thought or a soul,” said Beatrice, with noble pride.

      “Enough; I am engaged. I will challenge him. I will kiss your hand, and so I leave you. By this hand, Claudio shall render me a dear account. Go, comfort your cousin. I must say she is dead. And so, farewell.”

      Benedick, the scoffer, the jester, the light-hearted wit of the Prince’s Court, showed in this moment that he was also a high-souled chivalrous gentleman, fitting mate for the brave and noble-spirited Beatrice.

      In accordance with his promise, Benedick went to seek Claudio. He presently found him with Don Pedro. The two gentlemen had just had a painful interview with Leonato, who had indignantly reproached them for their behaviour. They felt anything but happy, although they persisted in thinking that they were quite justified in acting as they had done. However, at the sight of Benedick their spirits rallied, and they tried to assume their usual teasing vein of raillery. But Benedick was in no jesting humour. With cold self-possession he delivered his challenge to Claudio, and then he took a dignified leave of the Prince of Arragon.

      “My lord, for your many courtesies I thank you,” he said. “I must discontinue your company. Your brother Don John is fled from Messina; you have among you killed a sweet and innocent lady. For my Lord Lackbeard there, he and I shall meet; and till then peace be with him.”

      “He is in earnest,” said the Prince, as Benedick withdrew.

      “In most profound earnest,” said Claudio; “and, I’ll warrant you, for the love of Beatrice.”

      “And has challenged you.”

      “Most sincerely.”

      “What a pretty thing man is when he goes in his doublet and hose, and leaves off his wit!” said Don Pedro disdainfully.

      But the self-satisfaction of the Prince and Claudio were soon to receive a severe shock. The watchmen now approached, bringing with them their capture of the night before, the culprits Borachio and Conrade, and the whole miserable tale of treachery was duly unfolded. Leonato was sent for in haste.

      “Are you the slave that with your slander slew my innocent child?” he asked of Borachio.

      “Yes, even I alone.”

      “No, not so, villain; you belie yourself,” said Leonato. “Here stand a pair of honourable men; a third is fled that had a hand in it. I thank you, Princes, for my daughter’s death: it was bravely done, if you bethink you of it.”

      Claudio was overwhelmed with remorse; he dared not ask pardon of the deeply-wronged Leonato, but he besought him to chose his own revenge, and to impose on him any penance he choose to invent. Don Pedro also joined him in expressing his deep penitence.

      “I cannot bid you bid my daughter live,” replied Leonato, “but I pray you both proclaim to all the people СКАЧАТЬ