At night they found shelter in some leaf-strewn cave or upon some mossy
bank, beneath over-arching trees. Then the innocent pair, under the
protection of heaven, slumbered until day's reviving beams once more
cheered them on their way.
At length one afternoon they drew near the out-skirts of the vast
forest within whose mighty depths they had so long sojourned. The
setting sun reddened the stems of the tall out-standing firs, and the
scent of fallen pine leaves hung rich and heavy on the air, as they
left the shade of the trees and stepped on to a wide stretching common.
Fidunia, bewildered by the apparently illimitable space before her,
stopped perplexed and half wished to retrace her steps; but Fido
bounded on, entreating her by unmistakeable signs to follow him.
After crossing some old sand-pits, and scrambling across an expanse of
furze and heather, they saw before them a small cottage; blue smoke
curled cosily above it into the still evening sky; an atmosphere of
peace seemed to surround the lowly walls. As they approached, however,
a large flock of geese and poultry of all kinds, disturbed by their
footsteps, made a terrible cackling, and presently a hale old woman
opened the door, and came out to see what agitated her flock.
Fidunia, accustomed to the ways of birds, had already taken from her
wallet some of the seeds she was wont to collect for her feathered
forest friends. The geese, well pleased, quickly gathered round, and
eagerly fed from her hand.
Meanwhile, Fido gambolled up to the cottage dame, and begged before her
as if to solicit her good-will. Thus, propitiating mistress and fowls,
the little maid and her dog were kindly made welcome for the night by
the ancient hen-wife.
Next morning, refreshed and thankful, they prepared to resume their
journey. The good dame now asked Fidunia her history, and whither she
was bound; the young girl replied evasively that she only wished to see
the world, and was going with her dog to seek their fortunes.
"Nay, my child, that is not all," said the old woman; "tell me, I pray
you, the exact truth." So saying, she fixed so keen, yet withal so
friendly a glance upon the maiden's blushing countenance, that moved by
a sudden impulse, Fidunia poured forth her whole story.
Her hostess listened carefully to her long account, and then resumed:
"You have done well to confide in me; I am more powerful than my mean
surroundings would lead you to imagine. I would fain have kept from you
the dreams that have broken the peaceful charm of the forest, and set
you wandering. I have, however, sisters who are otherwise minded, and
they (to work out their own purposes) have sent these visions to harass
and perplex you. I was anxious to know how much had been revealed, and
therefore threw myself in your way to help you. My intentions, however,
would have been frustrated had not you, dear maiden, given me
straightforward answers.
"The King Antiphates, of whom you have heard in your dreams, dwells, in
reality, in the great City of Deva. You will come to it in time if you
travel along the high-road, which you can discover beyond that clump of
firs," continued she, pointing through the open door to a little hill
at some distance. "I am unable to render you more assistance at
present, but if, after reaching the far-off city, you are ever in great
straits, take this crystal from your bosom (where you must always carry
it, concealed from every eye, or it will lose its virtue); place it in
the palm of your hand, fix your eyes steadfastly upon it, repeating,
meanwhile, in a low tone, these words:--
"Strange gem! upon thy crystal core
I gaze, the while I aid implore;
Trembling upon the verge of fate,
Oh point my path ere yet too late!
I fain would gain the boon I ask,
Is mine the strength for such a task?
Canst thou unloose the links that bind,
Or vanquish powerful foes combined?
Then, show whate'er there lurks of art
Within thine own mysterious heart;
On thee I turn a hopeful eye,
Bright stone of silence, make reply!"
So saying, she drew from her own breast a beautiful sparkling prism,
about the size of a pigeon's egg, and gave it, with some solemnity of
manner, to her wondering guest. Deeply grateful, Fidunia threw her arms
round the kind Anna's neck, and warmly thanked her for the precious
talisman. With the good woman's aid she then committed to memory the
needful lines.
When she had successfully mastered them, the old wife drew her hand
across her eyes, and resumed, in a somewhat trembling tone, "I know not
wherefore you interest me so strangely, my little maid; but if you will
be advised by one who has drained the cup of earthly pleasure to its
very dregs, return, as yet innocent and inexperienced, with your
faithful companion to the quiet joys of your peaceful forest; nor seek,
amid the busy haunts of men, those more exciting scenes where many a
grief and anxiety must of necessity be yours."
She paused; how could she cast a blight over the joyousness of that
poor unsuspecting heart by explaining to Fidunia that maidens, plain in
feature, and devoid of dowry, have oftentimes, from no fault of their
own, but a sorry lot in this hard world compared with that of their
lovelier or more wealthy sisters?
Clothed in her long, grey dress, Fidunia still knelt at Dame Anna's
knee; the light from the cottage window fell full on her rough sunburnt
face; her straw-coloured hair contrasted unfavourably with her dark
reddish skin, and though her eyes were in some measure expressive of
the gentle spirit within, yet their faint colour, and the absence of
visible eyebrow or eyelash, detracted seriously from their possible
charm. Her figure was not ungraceful, but her strangely-fashioned robes
(which, prettily donned by some fairer being, could have given a
certain _bizarre_ attraction of their own) were but ill calculated
to add comeliness to the young girl's unformed limbs and tanned though
shapely hands.
As the compassionate dame hesitated, unwilling to speak too bitterly to
Fidunia of nature's apparent injustice, her young guest laughingly
replied, "Thank you, kind mother; but I could not now remain satisfied
without seeking my fate in the unknown world. I shall never forget your
promise, however, but seek your aid with this amulet in the hour of
need. Yet," added she, "ere I and my dog leave your friendly hearth, we
will do our best to afford you some small return for the hospitality
you have shown us."
Fidunia and Fido, who had a thousand times alone together practised
various little tricks, now went through many evolutions before the
delighted old woman.
First, said the little maid, "What will you do for your mistress?" No
sooner had she asked this question, than the dog fell mute, and
apparently lifeless, at her feet. His stiffened limbs made it plain
that he would willingly "die" for her dear sake. Bidding him revive,
Fidunia then drew from her pocket one of the chestnuts she kept for the
purpose. When the little fellow caught sight of this, he "begged" for
it, but his mistress was obdurate. He then "jumped" high into the air
to try and win his plaything; still in vain. Next he "asked" for it in
doggish fashion, by loudly barking. Fidunia remained relentless. But
now a sudden thought seemed to strike the clever animal. Raising
himself once more on his hind-legs, he uttered such a tuneful howl--his
apology for "singing"--that his mistress, with a pretended sigh, was
fain to reward him by placing the promised guerdon upon the ground.
Instead of rushing upon it, however, Fido, in an exceedingly graceful
attitude, bent his head on one side, and gravely "considered" the
desired reward. His meditations coinciding with his wishes, at the word
of command he dashed nimbly forward, seized the round nut, threw it up
in the air, and caught it again and again; playing, in fact, by himself
a game of ball. Finally, he laid the prize gently down at his comrade's
feet to demonstrate that no matter what he won, he would be content to
surrender all he possessed to her care.
Dame Anna, delighted with the pretty dog's sagacity, caressed and
praised him, and, after amply provisioning his little mistress for the
journey, wished them both God-speed on their way. She strictly enjoined
Fidunia to refrain from mentioning this adventure, and advised her also
to keep her dreams to herself, and only enquire as she went along, for
the great city of Deva. Leaning over her low garden-gate, surrounded by
her long-billed and splay-footed court, the kind henwife long watched
her late guests as they crossed the bleak common, and reached the small
clump of trees which she had pointed out to them as a landmark on their
way to the desired haven.
Soon after passing the summit crowned by these few lonely firs, Fidunia
stepped on to a broad high-road, which she at once recognized as that
described by their good friend, and leading to the capital of the
country.
They now walked on and on for a weary time. The hot sun poured down its
noontide rays, the dust arose in parching clouds, and followed with the
wind their flagging footsteps.
At last they came to a part of the road bounded by a stone wall. On the
other side lay a beautiful green park, stretching far away in upland
slopes of rich pasturage. Fatigued and footsore, Fidunia and her little
dog clambered over the fence, and composed themselves comfortably to
rest in the soft grass. Sheltered from the mid-day heat in their seat
among low brushwood and high overshadowing trees, they gratefully
partook of the food pressed on them ere their departure by the worthy
cottage wife.
Half playing, half teaching her faithful companion, Fidunia held aloft
a little bit of meat in one hand, while with the other she bent down
the branch of a neighbouring tree, over which Fido at her gentle
command, bounded nimbly backwards and forwards.
Suddenly, a loud, harsh voice exclaimed, "What business have you here?
No tramps are allowed in my park."
Looking timidly round, Fidunia beheld a stout, red-faced,
grizzle-haired man, in leathern gaiters, who angrily threatened herself
and Fido with an uplifted stick. Absolutely terrified by this, her
first experience of man, poor Fidunia felt as if glued to the spot. She
could not move hand or foot. A surging tide of red blood rushed over
her face and neck, and covered the poor child of nature with confusion.
Had she looked beautiful in her distress, perhaps the rough proprietor
might have treated her more tenderly. As it was, increasing in
violence, he drew nearer still, when Fido, who already bristled with
rage, flew upon him, and ere he could lay hands upon his trembling
mistress, fixed his sharp white teeth apparently in the fierce
stranger's leg; but, luckily for the savage Baron, Fido's jaws only met
in his legging.
Coward, as well as bully, the rough man changed his tone and implored
Fidunia to call off her dog. Recovered from her first terror, the
little maid beckoned to Fido to follow her, and ere this selfish squire
could look calmly about him, she had flown nimbly over the wall,
followed by her dog.
They both ran a considerable way in their terror, not knowing that the
friendly Anna (in reality a good fairy) had thrown so much dust in the
rude Baron's eyes, that confused and bewildered, he knew not which way
the intruders had escaped, but continued to search for them with wicked
words and impotent threats long after they had left him and his
inhospitable domains behind.
Meantime the travellers pursued their way until, worn out and hungry,
they came, towards nightfall, into a small hamlet upon the great
high-road.
The village inn, with its gay painted sign of the "Golden Boar"
flapping to and fro in the evening breeze, stood invitingly open.
Fidunia approached its threshold. The spruce landlady, airing herself
with arms akimbo at the open door, stared hard at the little maiden as
she paused longingly in front of the steps. "Can you pay for a night's
lodging?" she asked in a matter of fact tone. Alas, no--poor Fidunia
possessed not one single piece of that hitherto unneeded money--without
which she was soon to find she could gain nothing in the pleasant world
she had so longed to explore.
She sorrowfully passed the cheerful preparations for wayfarers better
supplied than herself with all-conquering gold, and heart-sore and
weary sat herself down on an old stump of wood outside the village
smithy.
Here, however, she soon forgot her fatigue for a while in watching the
red furnace, and the grimy fire-illumined men who moved briskly to and
fro, striking bright sparks from the glowing metal. They interested her
strangely by their easy motions of power, and apparently inexhaustible
store of latent strength. She was gradually recalled to herself,
however, by perceiving that she and Fido had become the centre of
attraction to a gathering crowd. The children accustomed to cluster
round the entrance of the warm and busy workshop now turned their
attention to this solitary maiden, and the beautiful dog, which,
standing before her, ever on the alert, seemed ready to guard his
mistress to the death.
The heated smith, coming for a moment to cool himself at the
half-barred entrance, found an inquisitive group pressing round the
young girl, regardless of Fido's low growls, as with hair on end and
quivering tail, he prepared to spring on anyone who might touch or
insult her.
Of a kindly and generous nature, and ever ready to befriend the
helpless, Master Franz stepped up to the stranger and civilly asked her
pleasure.
Fidunia, frightened, as well she might be, by the rude remarks of the
gaping village girls, exclaimed in a tearful voice, "Oh, sir, I know
not where to go for a night's lodging, I and my poor dog, we are
travelling to the great city of Deva, but we are tired, and unable to
journey farther this day." Franz, sorely puzzled, looked around in vain
for help or counsel. He knew better than the shivering little maid
before him what rustic gossip meant. A stalwart bachelor living all
alone above his smithy, he himself, however compassionate, could offer
no shelter to the poor wanderers. A sudden thought struck him. "Come
with me," he cried, "to my good friend Dorothy of the "Golden Boar;" I
warrant me she will blithely give thee food and lodging for the night."
"Kind, sir," answered the poor girl sorrowfully, "I have no money to
offer to the good lady of the inn, and she has already bidden me from
her door; but," continued Fidunia timidly, "I and my dog are able to
make some few passes together, which might give amusement to the worthy
Dorothy, and even induce her to grant us leave to rest for the night
beneath her roof."
The friendly Franz chuckled with delight as he exclaimed, "By my
halidome, damsel, thy words are well-flavoured. Dame Dorothy shall give
to thee and thy pretty beast a hearty meal; and then, my mates," he
added, turning to the assembled villagers, "we will step up to the
"Golden Boar" when our labours for the day are ended, and see whether
we cannot help the maiden and her dog on their voyage."
At these words Fidunia felt greatly comforted, and she and Fido
fearlessly retraced their steps in the wake of the burly smith.
Dame Dorothy had long ere this left her door, and was now engaged in
the great kitchen superintending with her own hands the preparation of
a savoury pie, which somehow or other she hoped Master Franz would that
very evening help her to consume. Her old husband had been gathered to
his fathers many months agone. Since his death the worthy woman often
felt the hours after dark pass very slowly. No one knew this
interesting fact better than the shrewd yet simple smith, who, early or
late, felt sure of a warm welcome whenever he crossed the comfortable
threshold of the "Golden Boar."
When the landlady heard steps in her passage, a slight cloud of
annoyance rose to her brow--for what mistress likes to be interrupted
in her mysterious culinary rites? The incipient frown, however,
speedily changed to a smile as Franz's broad figure appeared in the
doorway. With a "welcome, neighbour," she hurriedly stooped to shut the
oven door, an exertion which called additional colour into her round
healthy cheek.
"Friend Dorothy," said Franz, "I bring thee this forlorn maiden; for my
sake thou wilt refresh her and her dog. I must away. I have a coat of
mail in hand that cannot be left; but anon I will return." So saying,
and without pausing for queries or doubts, the brawny smith
disappeared, leaving in his place the weary drooping Fidunia and her
little comrade.
Dorothy cast a keen scrutinizing glance on the young girl, eagerly
scanning her form and features. Reassured by the brief inspection, her
eye travelled back to the polished mirror by the fire which reflected
her own buxom charms. With some complacency she readjusted the snowy
coif (slightly disarranged by her labours), over her brilliant black
hair, and wiping her hands upon the rough apron assumed for
kitchen-work, she turned towards Fidunia, and in no unkindly voice bade
her welcome.
Nor did she do this by halves. She exerted herself with real good will.
Before long, rested, comforted and composed, the little maid sat by her
new friend, and, while she fondled her faithful Fido, she related her
adventures (always excepting her possession of the talisman and her
dreams) to the wondering Dorothy.
But now Franz, true to his promise, returned, bringing with him many of
the villagers; for the fame of the stranger and her beautiful companion
had spread apace, and a rumour indeed had been set afloat that the
animal was gifted with supernatural powers. Refreshed and inspirited,
Fidunia and her dog went joyfully through all the exercises previously
described. Besides this, she borrowed a kerchief from Dorothy. She then
put Fido out of the room and closed the door, carefully concealing the
white ensign in the blacksmith's wide hanging pocket. She next called
her favourite; with eager zest he burst open the half-latched door, and
ran round and round the chamber sniffing in every direction. At last,
after a long search, he was successful, and amid loud shouts of
surprise and delight drew forth from the depths of Franz's coat the
blushing Dorothy's badge, the good man the while looking not one whit
more composed than his hostess. Fidunia then neatly folded up the
kerchief; and Fido, bearing it in his mouth, lightly sprang on the
landlady's knee and placed it gently in her hand.
They repeated similar tricks over and over again. Hearty plaudits were
showered on the sagacious dog and his youthful mistress, who, flitting
to and fro in anxious excitement, and finding herself impeded in her
swift motions by the long folds of her grey robe, drew them in a hasty
yet picturesque fashion through her waist-belt. Flushed and animated by
the friendly approval manifested on all sides, she now stooped forward,
wreathing her arms into a natural hoop, through which Fido flew
backwards and forwards with frolicsome ardour. Nor was this all, for
the trim landlady, in answer to an earnest whisper, also rose. Clasping
hands with the stranger maiden, she soon learnt how to twist and
retwist beneath her own and Fidunia's arms in a quaint manner that
Franz and his comrades thought exceedingly bewitching. At the same time
Fido, watching his opportunity, continually sprang between Dorothy and
his mistress, thus making a merry third in this pretty exhibition.
As they at last paused, exhausted and laughing over their own
exertions, the swart blacksmith stood forth in their midst. In sober
manly tones he addressed his neighbours, and gave them an outline of
Fidunia's history, as he had gathered it from herself and from Dorothy.
He explained, that she was travelling to the great city of Deva, but
that, friendless and forlorn, she was destitute of the money requisite
to procure for herself and her companion the necessaries of life. He
added, that since the little maid and her pretty favourite had given
them so much pleasure, he considered that it would only be making her a
fair return if he and his fellows collected a small sum to help their
guest on her way.
His well-timed appeal met with an enthusiastic response. Grey-haired
old men, tender-hearted mothers carrying their babes, blooming young
wenches with their awkward rustic swains, all pressed around to deposit
in Franz's cap their hard-earned yet freely-bestowed mite for the
astonished maiden. The children whispering their thanks into Fido's
willing ear, threw their soft little arms around his neck, and pressed
their chubby faces on his coat of golden silk.
The bustling landlady meantime bestirred herself and her household, and
ere long set before the company the pie she had already prepared, with
sundry enticing concomitants. Foaming tankards, moreover, were placed
on the board, wherein the villagers deeply pledged the wanderer and her
inseparable companion.
Overcome with gratitude, Fidunia could only murmur half-inarticulate
thanks to her kind friends, as they warmly shook her by the hand. They
patted Fido also, as she raised him in her arms to conceal her blushing
face, and wished them both every success on their journey.
Nothing is so alluring to a man as the sight of the woman in whom his
heart is already interested, engaged in works of benevolence and
charity. Dorothy's second thoughts regarding Fidunia stood her in good
stead on that eventful evening. Her softened voice, as she encouraged
and soothed Fido and his shy mistress, sounded unusually sweet to the
rough blacksmith's ear. When she smiled good-night to the villagers,
placing the while a friendly hand on Fidunia's shoulder, Franz, for the
first time, thought her face actually beautiful. Though no words passed
between them, Dorothy, when she laid her head on her pillow, felt a
glad thrill of joy as she recalled the warm parting clasp of that hard
and honest hand.
In long after years, when Franz and Dorothy reigned together over the
far-famed "Golden Boar," surrounded by a blooming family and blessed
with peace and plenty, the prosperous wife and mother, in the fulness
of her joy, often wiped a tear from her eye as she remembered the true
kindness first shown by her husband to the poor stranger. A kindness
that had melted her own harder heart, and (undeservedly for her) led to
the happiest days of her life. No wayfarer was ever again turned away
from the open door of the hostelry. Heaven increased fourfold the
worldly possessions of the honest couple who liberally shared their
portion with the poor and the needy.
Followed by the good wishes, and laden with the unexpected gifts
conferred upon her by her kind benefactors, Fidunia next day set forth
once more upon her solitary journey--solitary, at least, so far as
human society was concerned. But this strange girl never considered
herself lonely while she had her intelligent though canine
fellow-traveller. Now bounding far before his young mistress, now
lingering in her rear or trotting quietly along by her side, Fido gave
her an astonishing sense of companionship and protection.
For many days they continued to traverse long tracts of beautiful
undulating country. At night they always found shelter in some humble
farm or cottage. Constant and unfailing were the bounties showered
around the gentle maiden and her fascinating dog, when in gratitude for
hospitality received they went through their performances together. The
money collected by Franz was like the contents of the widow's cruse. As
fast as the purse grew empty it was refilled.
Fidunia knew not that her ill-favoured countenance protected her from
many a rough jest and coarse compliment. But it was so; her modest
demeanour and unassuming ways rendered her less effectual service in
preserving her from insult than her want of beauty. Nor was the young
girl as yet conscious that she lacked those personal charms without
which life may sometimes become so bitter to the sensitive heart.