mined to see for himself what peasant girl it was of whom they declared Florizel to be enamored. So one day he set out with Camillo (who was still loved and honored by him before any one in his whole kingdom) for the place where Perdita dwelt.
It happened that there was a rustic feast on the day Polixenes had chosen for his visit. He attended the feast with Camillo, both of them disguised as merchants. They could scarcely have seen Perdita to better advantage. She shone like a queen among the coarse-featured rustics in the midst of whom she lived. At her side, following her constantly with his eyes—whispering in her attentive ear—calling blushes to her cheek with his tender flatteries—Polixenes beheld his recreant son,—the heir to his proud kingdom.
The beauty of the maid almost disarmed the king himself at first. He joined their revels for a while. The pretty hands of Perdita dealt to Camillo and himself a part of the flowers, of which she gave appropriate nosegays to each guest. Her bright lips and shifting blushes bade the strangers welcome to their simple pastimes. But Polixenes could not long endure with patience the spectacle of his son at the feet of a peasant girl, and throwing oft his disguise before them all, he bitterly reproached Florizel, and
