Since the death of Hermione, Leontes had lived a life of penance and gravity, devoting himself to the memory of his lost wife and son. Some of his councillors would fain have persuaded the King to marry again, but the impetuous lady, Paulina, faithful to her deeply-wronged mistress, declared that there was no lady living that could be compared with her, or was fit to take her position as Queen. Paulina reminded Leontes also of the words of the Oracle, which had said that there would be no heir to the throne until that which was lost was found.
Leontes, who was much more tractable than of old, and who knew now how to value the unflinching honesty of this outspoken lady, replied that he would never marry again until Paulina herself bade him do so.
“That shall be when your first Queen breathes again—never till then,” said Paulina. And matters were in this state when Florizel and Perdita reached Sicilia.
The young pair received the warmest welcome from Leontes, but closely following their arrival came a messenger from Polixenes, begging Leontes to seize hold of the Prince, who, casting off both his dignity and duty, had fled from his father, and from his hopes, with a shepherd’s daughter. Polixenes himself had arrived in Sicilia, bringing with him the old shepherd, the seeming father of Perdita.
But the momentary cloud was soon dispelled, and great and unexpected joy filled the whole country. The things which the aged shepherd had taken to Polixenes furnished full proof that the rescued little babe was no other than the long-lost daughter of Leontes. The mantle of Queen Hermione; her jewel on the neck of it; letters of Antigonus found with it, which they knew to be in his handwriting; the majesty of Perdita herself, which so closely resembled her mother; the nobility of her bearing, which nature showed was above her breeding, and many other evidences, proclaimed her with all certainty to be the King’s daughter.
All was now rejoicing. Bonfires were lighted, and crowds ran about the streets, gossiping over the news, and wondering at all the strange things that were taking place. The meeting of the two Kings, it was reported, was a sight never to be forgotten—such a weeping for joy, casting up of eyes, and holding up of hands. Leontes, overcome with rapture at finding his daughter again, one moment embraced her, the next cried, “O, thy mother, thy mother!” Then he asked forgiveness of Polixenes; then embraced his son-in-law; once more flung his arms round his daughter; now thanked the old shepherd, who stood by like a weather-beaten relic of many Kings’ reigns.
So with Paulina, joy and sorrow strove for utterance at the sight of the young Princess. One moment she wept for the loss of her husband, whom the shepherd’s son had seen killed by the bear, the next she was filled with rapture that the oracle was fulfilled. She lifted the Princess from the ground, and so locked her in an embrace, as if she would pin her to her heart that she might no more be in danger of losing her.
The Princess was told of her mother’s death, with the manner how she came by it, bravely confessed and lamented by the King himself. Hearing that there was a wonderful statue of the Queen, which had taken many years to make, and which was just completed, and in the keeping of Paulina, Perdita was most desirous to see it, and thither the royal party and all their company of lords and ladies now went.
On arriving at Paulina’s house, Leontes looked all about for the statue, but though Paulina led them through a gallery rich with many rare and beautiful objects, they did not see there what Perdita had come to look upon—the statue of her mother. At last they reached the chapel, and Leontes ventured to remind Paulina of the object of their visit.