a little past middle age, a just ruler, and much more beloved by his people than in the days of his youthful reign. He had never ceased to mourn for his beloved Hermione; and Paulina, who also mourned the loss of her husband, remained his trusted friend and confidant.
In the kingdom of Polixenes strange events were shaping themselves. Perdita had grown up under the roof of the rude peasants who had fostered her, a beautiful maiden, fair and pure as a lily, with a delicate refinement in all her looks and words, a grace in all her motions, which made the peasants look upon her with admiration, and regard her almost as a queen, She ruled them with a gentle sway, and at all their rustic festivals her wish was law. So it happened that the fame of her loveliness and goodness spread through all the country round.
Prince Florizel, who was the heir and only son of Polixenes, was a romantic youth of twenty, who spent much of his time in wandering about the woods and fields of his father’s kingdom. It was not strange that he should hear of the radiant beauty of this peasant maid, who was called Perdita, and whose birth was so enveloped in mystery. It was not strange that the youth should seek to see her, to prove for himself if report had spoken truly. Having once seen her, it was the most natural thing in the world that
