a murderer."

Claudio heard with anguish and deep repentance.

Upon the re-entrance of Leonato be said to him, "This slave makes clear
your daughter's innocence. Choose your revenge.

"Leonato," said Don Pedro, humbly, "I am ready for any penance you may
impose."

"I ask you both, then," said Leonato, "to proclaim my daughter's
innocence, and to honor her tomb by singing her praise before it. As for
you, Claudio, I have this to say: my brother has a daughter so like Hero
that she might be a copy of her. Marry her, and my vengeful feelings
die."

"Noble sir," said Claudio, "I am yours." Claudio then went to his room
and composed a solemn song. Going to the church with Don Pedro and his
attendants, he sang it before the monument of Leonato's family. When he
had ended he said, "Good night, Hero. Yearly will I do this."

He then gravely, as became a gentleman whose heart was Hero's, made
ready to marry a girl whom he did not love. He was told to meet her in
Leonato's house, and was faithful to his appointment.

He was shown into a room where Antonio (Leonato's brother) and several
masked ladies entered after him. Friar Francis, Leonato, and Benedick
were present.

Antonio led one of the ladies towards Claudio.

"Sweet," said the young man, "let me see your face."

"Swear first to marry her," said Leonato.

"Give me your hand," said Claudio to the lady; "before this holy friar I
swear to marry you if you will be my wife."

"Alive I was your wife," said the lady, as she drew off her mask.

"Another Hero!" exclaimed Claudio.

"Hero died," explained Leonato, "only while slander lived."

The Friar was then going to marry the reconciled pair, but Benedick
interrupted him with, "Softly, Friar; which of these ladies is
Beatrice?"

Hereat Beatrice unmasked, and Benedick said, "You love me, don't you?"

"Only moderately," was the reply. "Do you love me?"

"Moderately," answered Benedick.

"I was told you were well-nigh dead for me," remarked Beatrice.

"Of you I was told the same," said Benedick.

"Here's your own hand in evidence of your love," said Claudio, producing
a feeble sonnet which Benedick had written to his sweetheart. "And
here," said Hero, "is a tribute to Benedick, which I picked out of the
pocket of Beatrice."

"A miracle!" exclaimed Benedick. "Our hands are against our hearts!
Come, I will marry you, Beatrice."

"You shall be my husband to save your life," was the rejoinder.

Benedick ki