One day Griselda sat in her chamber, caressing and playing with her two babes.  She had never intrusted their care and rearing to any but herself, and her chief delight had been to tend them, to note their pretty ways, to rock them asleep, and to watch their rosy slumbers.  At this moment, tired out with play, her noble boy, the younger Walter, lay in his cradle at her foot; and the sweet girl, with her father’s dark eyes, lay on the mother’s bosom, while she sang softly this cradle song, to lull them to sleep: 

  “Golden slumbers kiss your eyes,
  Smiles awake when you do rise;
  Sleep, pretty wantons, do not cry,
  And I will sing a lullaby;
  Rock them, rock them, lullaby.

  “Care is heavy, therefore sleep you,
  You are care, and care must keep you;
  Sleep, pretty wantons, do not cry,
  And I will sing a lullaby;
  Rock them, rock them, lullaby.”

While the young duchess sang the last notes of her song, Furio appeared on the threshold.  Some remorse for what he was to do, made the water for an instant dim his eyes, as he watched the group.  But he had sworn to do his lord’s bidding, and he only hesitated for a moment, looking up, Griselda saw him, and greeted him with a smile.

“Enter, good Furio,” she said.  “See, they are both asleep.  When he sleeps, my boy is most like his father; but awake, my girl’s dark eyes recall him most.  Have you any message from my lord, Furio?”

“My lady,” answered the old man, hesitatingly, “I have a message.  It is somewhat hard to deliver, but the duke must have his own will.  My lord fears you are too much with the babes; that you are not quite a fitting nurse for them.  Not that he fears your low birth will taint the manners of his children, but he fears the people might fancy it was so, and he must consult the wishes of his people.”

“If my lord thinks so,” answered Griselda, “he may find nurses for his babes.  It seems as if no love could be so dear as mine.  But perchance he is right.  My ways are uncouth beside those of royal blood.  I will give my babes a better teacher.  Only I may see them often, and love them still as dear, can I not, Furio?”

“That is not my lord’s wish, madam,” said Furio, not daring to look full at the duchess, and keeping his eyes fixed on the ground.  “The duke fears that even now the people murmur that an heir of base origin shall grow up to rule over them.  And he is forced to study the will of his people.  So he has sent me to take away the babes, and dispose of them according to his royal orders.”

When he had said this, Griselda looked at him as one who did not understand the language which he spake.  All the blood forsook her cheek, her strength gave way, and falling at the feet of the old servant, still holding her baby clasped to her breast, she looked up in his face imploringly, like the deer who lies under the knife of the hunter.