"Why, Genie, you look lovely as the spring," Ilario says, kissing her hand, "and surely the king's heart will melt as well at the sight of you, and indeed it puts me in mind of a play I saw, in which a knight is welcomed home by his gentle love, and I swear there was not a dry eye left in the theater, though I thought the speeches ran a bit long, and I fell asleep halfway through--"

Eugenie laughs at her sweet, foolish brother -- how she would love the words he speaks to be true!

But she is no sweet, young maiden any more, and Phillipe is no ro knight, and her husband ever sees things differently than her dear, romantic brother: he may treat her courteously and indulge her whims in Merona, but he will not love her -- for her husband loves only that which is sharp and bright like steel, the things he can rely on to always be of use.