Antonio, with tears and sad words of sorrow and true repentance, implored his brother’s forgiveness; and the king expressed his sincere remorse for having assisted Antonio to depose his brother; and Prospero forgave them, and upon their engaging to restore his dukedom, he said to the king of Naples, “I have a gift in store for you, too;” and, opening a door, showed him his son Ferdinand playing at chess with Miranda.

Nothing could exceed the joy of the father and the son at this unexpected meeting, for they each thought the other drowned in the storm.

“O wonder!” said Miranda, “what noble creatures these are!  It must surely be a brave world that has such people in it.”

The king of Naples was almost as much astonished at the beauty and the excellent graces of the young Miranda as his son had been.  “Who is this maid?” said he; “she seems the goddess that has parted us and brought us thus together.”  “No, sir,” answered Ferdinand, smiling to find his father had fallen into the same mistake that he had made when he first saw Miranda, “she is a mortal, but by immortal Providence she is mine; I chose her when I could not ask you, my father, for your consent, not thinking you were alive.  She is the daughter to this Prospero, who is the famous duke of Milan, of whose renown I have heard so much, but never saw him till now; of him I have received a new life,—­he has made himself to me a second father, giving me this dear lady.”

“Then I must be her father,” said the king; “but oh, how oddly will it sound, that I must ask my child forgiveness!”

“No more of that,” said Prospero; “let us not remember our troubles past, since they so happily have ended.”  And then Prospero embraced his brother, and again assured him of his forgiveness; and said that a wise overruling Providence had permitted that he should be driven from his poor dukedom of Milan, that his daughter might inherit the crown of Naples, for that by their meeting in this desert island, it had happened that the king’s son had loved Miranda.

These kind words which Prospero spoke, meaning to comfort his brother, so filled Antonio with shame and remorse that he wept and was unable to speak; and the kind old Gonzalo wept to see this joyful reconciliation, and prayed for blessings on the young couple.

Prospero now told them that their ship was safe in the harbor, and the sailors all on board her, and that he and his daughter would accompany them home the next morning.  “In the meantime,” says he, “partake of such refreshments as my poor cave affords; and for your evening’s entertainment I will relate the history of my life from my first landing in this desert island.”  He then called for Caliban to prepare some food, and set the cave in order; and the company were astonished at the uncouth form and savage appearance of this ugly monster, who (Prospero said) was the only attendant he had to wait upon him.