“The time has come when you must know everything,” said Prospero; and laying aside his magic mantle, he bade his daughter sit down beside him, and then he told her the story of their life.
“Can you remember a time before we came to this island?” he began. “I do not think you can, for you were then only a few years old.”
“Certainly I can,” replied Miranda. “It is far off, and more like a dream than a remembrance. Had I not four or five women once that waited on me?”
“You had, Miranda, and more. Twelve years ago your father was the Duke of Milan, and a Prince of power.”
“Oh, heaven! what foul play had we that we came from thence? Or was it a blessing that we did?”
“Both, both, my girl. By foul play, as you say, were we driven from Milan, but blessedly helped thither. In those days Milan was the first State in Italy, and everywhere renowned for its splendour. I had so great a love for art and learning that I devoted much of my time to study, and left the government of the State to my brother Antonio, whom I loved best in the world and trusted beyond measure. But he was false to the confidence reposed in him, and soon began to think that he was Duke in reality. He therefore entered into a plot with an inveterate enemy of mine, Alonso, King of Naples, and by promise of a large bribe obtained his assistance. A treacherous army was levied, and one midnight Antonio opened the gates of Milan to the King of Naples. In the dead of darkness you and I were seized and hurried away. So great was the love borne me by my people that the traitors dared not kill us, but we were cast adrift in a rotten boat, without sail, mast, or tackle. By the kindness of a noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo, rich stuffs, foods, and necessaries, had been placed in the boat, together with many valuable books from my library, which I prize more than my dukedom. The waves bore us to this island, and here we have lived ever since, and I have given such care to your teaching that you know more than many other Princesses with more leisure time and less careful tutors.”
“Heaven thank you for it, dear father!” said Miranda. “And now, I pray you, tell me your reason for raising this storm.”
By his magic art, Prospero replied, he knew that by chance his enemies had come near the island, and unless he seized this happy moment his fortunes would droop, never to recover.
“But ask no more questions, Miranda,” he ended. “You are weary; rest here and sleep a little.”
As soon as Miranda was asleep, Prospero summoned his dainty and nimble little sprite, Ariel, and asked whether he had performed his bidding.