travellers towards the ocean. Fidunia paused, therefore, one morning,
amazed at the beauty and novelty of the scene before her. The road
emerging from wooded valleys turned abruptly to the right along the
summit of perpendicular cliffs some two or three hundred feet in
height. At their base, the blue main, hitherto unknown to the
forest-bred maiden, broke in tiny ripples on the silver sands. It was a
tideless expanse of sea, and therefore no unsightly marks of ebbing
waters strewed the beach. Only a long bright undulating line showed
where the unstable element found its limits and mother-earth claimed
her own.
Resting on the bosom of the mighty deep, and looming indistinctly
through summer haze, Fidunia saw the azure outline of a fair and
distant island. There also, gleaming faint across the broad bay, her
eager longing eyes at last discerned the white environs of the
far-famed city of Deva. After revelling for some moments in the glad
beautiful prospect, Fidunia hastened her footsteps, well knowing she
had still several miles to traverse before she could reach the town, in
which she hoped to sleep that night.
It was very pleasant to trip gaily along the grass by the roadside,
with a lovely view before her, and fresh sea-breezes to fan her brow as
she sped swiftly on. But as the day advanced, the heat grew oppressive.
Again leaving the sea, the pathway led them by degrees from the midst
of abundant vegetation into an arid and desolate region. Absorbed in
hopeful musings, Fidunia did not for some time observe the change of
scene. At last a sense of oppression made her look around. The
stillness was frightful. No sounds of tuneful ocean saluted her ear; no
melodious birds charmed, as heretofore, the wayfarer with their
thrilling notes. All was mute and silent as the grave.
Fido, with drooping tail and disconsolate bearing, paced soberly beside
her, casting doubtful glances around. With a sudden shudder Fidunia
recognised some of the horrid features last seen in her forest visions.
Here were the wreathed and fantastic shapes she remembered too well,
the wildly tossed, the bare and herbless rocks. There, as she
doubtfully raised her eyes to its summit (now visible through the
opening gorge), was a cloud of black smoke, issuing from the very
mountain round whose base they were journeying.
Appalled by this vivid resemblance, and seeing before her an apparently
endless continuance of a similar loathly landscape, Fidunia's trembling
and really wearied limbs refused to carry her farther. Looking around
for a resting-place, she was compelled to seat herself in the road
itself, for a creeping sensation came over her as she caught sight of
the bright-eyed lizards peeping between the rocks near at hand, and
surmised that the snakes of her dream could not be far off.
Fido came and lay down beside her quite subdued, and she opened their
little store of cold roast chestnuts and other provisions neatly packed
in her wallet. While she was thus employed, forcing her thoughts from
the surrounding desert, by endeavouring to play with her dog over each
morsel of their food, they all at once heard the tramp of approaching
horses.
Fido, though seemingly hungry, dropped his untasted meat on the ground.
Pricking his ears, he listened acutely to the distant sounds, uttering
the while a low growl. Nearer and nearer rang the iron hoofs along the
hard metal causeway. At length, sweeping rapidly past the corner
Fidunia herself had so recently rounded, she beheld a splendid
cavalcade.
Beckoning to Fido, she sprang alarmed to her feet. Forgetting in her
haste the dreaded reptiles, she flew quickly to the rocks above, where,
having gained a vantage ground of comparative safety, she paused to
mark the unaccustomed pageant below.
But a few moments before, the sun, shorn of his beams by thick vapours
belched forth from the crater above, rode lustreless aloft like a dim
red ball.
Now, however, bursting through the mirksome canopy, his rays fell with
renewed splendour upon the gay accoutrements and glancing arms of a
troop of mounted soldiers, whose advance was heralded by all the merry
pomp of prancing steeds and clanging steel.
Fido, instead of obeying his mistress, had remained behind her in the
centre of the road, and now, regardless of her earnest commands, he
dashed forward vehemently barking.
Startled by the apparition of a species of animal but little known in
these parts (the few dogs in that country being smooth-coated, and very
different in appearance from the long-haired Fido) the horse nearest at
hand shied to one side, and crushed against his next neighbour. The two
riders (hitherto sitting careless and at ease) thus nearly came
together to the ground. Enraged at this misadventure, one of the men
raised himself in the stirrup, and with his long lance was about to
make a thrust at Fido; but Fidunia, foreseeing her favourite's danger,
rushed down and seized him in her arms ere the wrathful trooper had
time to execute his purpose.
This little by-play could not occur, however, without in some measure
hindering the onward progress of the whole company; and before Fidunia
or the irate men could utter one word in explanation or abuse, a loud
voice from the rear peremptorily demanded the cause of this abrupt
halt. Fidunia was already escaping as fast as she could with her burden
up the steep hill-side, when another cavalier, of more pleasing
appearance, rode up and informed her that "the King" wished to speak
with her. Reassured by his courteous address, she hesitated in her
flight, and finally remained rooted to the spot in amazement and
instinctive expectation.
By this time the procession was once more moving on at a slower pace
than before, and she now perceived in its midst, surrounded by the
glittering squadron, a stately chariot, drawn by four grey horses,
caparisoned in blue and gold. As this carriage drew nearer, Fidunia saw
seated in it a middle-aged man of singular yet noble bearing.
Impatience and dissatisfaction were imprinted on his speaking
countenance as he turned fretfully from side to side. He seemed unable
to notice surrounding objects, for his eyes, though wide open, stared
vacantly into space; while the restless motion of his hands betokened a
mind ill at ease with itself, if not with all the world around.
When this gorgeous equipage reached the spot where Fidunia stood, the
horses were drawn up in obedience to the signal of Domenichino, the
official who had previously accosted her. Stepping up to its occupant,
he now made some deferential communication. With a quick gesture, the
King (for it was he) leant over the side of the carriage, and demanded,
in surly tones, who and what had dared to impede his royal progress.
While he spoke, his eyes gazed aimlessly around, thus revealing to the
most unobservant bystander the painful fact of his physical defect.
Inspired with sudden forebodings, agitated by these swiftly following
events, and frightened by the strange looks of her interrogator, the
maiden knew not what to answer, but stood irresolute, holding her dog
in her arms. Every eye turned upon her, and the King angrily repeated
his question before she found courage to reply, tremblingly,
"Oh, sire, if indeed thou art the great monarch Antiphates, pardon the
imprudence of my faithful dog: he comes with me from the depths of our
forest home, where gallants and horses are alike unknown, and on the
approach of thy proud train he sprang forth to defend his poor
mistress, thus discomfiting in some measure thy brave men-at-arms."
At this curious answer, given in all simplicity, the soldiers exchanged
doubtful glances, imagining Fidunia to be crazy for thus bearding their
passionate sovereign. But the King hungrily fastened on her words. He
threw himself from his chariot with wonderful rapidity, and, half
groping his way, half guided by Domenichino (who hastily dismounted to
assist his royal master), seized hold of Fidunia's hand, crying, "Ha!
from the forest, sayest thou, and by thy voice a fair and gentle
maiden?" Ere he could utter another word, however, Fido, already
watching his stumbling movements with considerable mistrust, broke into
such angry snarling that Fidunia, freeing her hand, stepped backwards,
and did not see the gestures of merriment exchanged among the cavaliers
around, as the unfortunate monarch spoke of her being "fair."
Though Fido's repeated interference was decidedly provoking, yet
Antiphates preserved unusual command over his short, uneven temper. He
entreated Fidunia to consider herself his guest; to enter his chariot
and accompany him to his palace, whither he was now returning after a
noonday drive. She demurred at first, because of her dog, fearing that
his misbehaviour might be severely visited upon him. As if reading the
cause of her hesitation, however, and aware of her fatigue, Fido leapt
from her arms, and, hastily flying past the attendants, bounded upon
the carriage-seat, wagging his tail, and motioning to his mistress to
follow. Aided, therefore, by Domenichino, she soon found herself
ensconced in the carriage, opposite that great potentate, whose
well-remembered name had first been made known to her in her dreams.
As she mused on his peculiar appearance, unable to discover, as he
turned on her his dark expressive eyes, whether the King was able to
scan her countenance or no, he bent suddenly towards her, saying,
"Maiden, I have more for thine ear than may be heard by others;
meantime, I bid thee welcome to my kingdom." Ere she could frame a
reply to this gracious speech, he leant back again and relapsed into
complete silence, apparently absorbed in unquiet meditations.
The swift onward motion of the chariot was new and strange to Fidunia.
Leaving the desert region behind them, they descended nearer the
water's edge, and sped lightly along the smooth high road.
Smiling vineyards clothed the mountain's side on the one hand; on the
other, the broad blue sea stretched her "ample field." The jangling of
the military trappings gave forth a sound not unpleasing to the ear, as
the escort swept merrily on.
Weary with her exertions, and lulled by the monotonous movement of the
carriage, Fidunia half slumbered as she leant back on the luxurious
cushions, her mind filled with youth's vague ecstatic visions of future
happiness. But Fido, wary and watchful, folded lovingly in his
mistress's arms, turned a vigilant eye alternately upon the uneasy King
and his glittering body-guard.
It would be impossible adequately to describe the forlorn condition of
the monarch, in whose stately equipage destiny had thus strangely
placed the forest maiden and her dog. Surrounded by all the pomp and
wealth of his splendid court, he was yet debarred by his misfortune
from enjoying the visible beauties of nature, or the works of art with
which his palace and kingdom abounded.
Unable to employ his powerful mind in perusing the records of the past,
or the writings of the poets and philosophers of his own day, incapable
of discerning the commonest objects in the world around, and conscious
only of a difference between light and darkness, night and day, the
great King's melancholy affliction demanded double commiseration in an
age when comforts for the blind had neither been invented nor studied.
Music became a source of constant pleasure to him; nor was it
surprising that he invariably judged people by their voices as they
spoke or sung before him, forming in this unusual way a wonderfully
accurate conception of character.
It is needless to say that remedies of all sorts had been tried upon
the eyes of the hapless monarch. Many physicians had exerted their
utmost skill in endeavouring to ameliorate his condition. He had
visited in turn not only the most celebrated baths and watering-places,
but also the various oracles then existing in Europe.
Disheartened and hopeless, he had at last well-nigh succumbed to his
fate, when a strange incident once more roused the seemingly subdued,
yet ever dormant passion of hope in his breast.
Antiphon (the foster-brother of the blind King), while wandering on the
hills surrounding Deva, in his vocation of shepherd, noticed
sulphureous fumes issuing from a cleft he had never before observed in
the mountain's side. Taking with him a torch, he cautiously entered the
yawning aperture, and groped his way along, until he suddenly found
himself in a lofty subterranean cave. In the centre of this cave lay a
marble block, fashioned like a huge coffin. Antiphon hastened home to
tell his neighbours of his discovery and to gain assistance. Returning
to the cave, he and his fellows succeeded in pushing off the ponderous
lid, which fell crashing to the ground, and broke into a thousand
pieces.
Within the sarcophagus was now exposed to view a shrivelled though
perfect mummy; and an old man of the party recollected having heard an
ancient prophecy which foretold that answers regarding future events
should one day issue from "withered lips, dumb with the silence of
ages, and awful in their semblance to humanity."
Antiphon at once carried the news of this prophecy to King Antiphates,
who, ready to do anything to vary the horrors of his solitary
existence, though secretly doubting the efficacy of such attempts,
disguised himself as a shepherd, and, unknown to his courtiers,
accompanied his foster-brother to the cave.
Here, after observing the accustomed ceremonies of purification and
prayer, Antiphates approached the sarcophagus, and kneeling beside it,
craved some knowledge of his future fate, humbly demanding at the same
time whether any sacrifice on his part would procure for him the
priceless gift of sight.
Having made these inquiries, the reluctant monarch, had now to lay low
his kingly head upon the breast of the long dead, and thus in a
stifling and constrained attitude await the much-desired response. Each
moment seemed an age to the afflicted prince. All alone with these
terrible emblems of mortality (for Antiphon remained without to guard
the entrance of the cave) he listened for he knew not what.
At last there arose upon the still dank air, as if from echoing vaults
beneath, an unearthly monotonous voice, chanting slowly the following
words:
A mighty King is blind,
And severed from his kind;
In his proud breast broods dark unrest,
No solace can he find.
The lands he calls his own,
His kingdom and his throne,
Are his by right; yet that fair sight
Is kept from him alone.
Revolving decades pass,
All flesh, we know, is grass;
With whitening hair, the king sits there,
He groweth old alas!
No joys of life are his,
He tastes no wedded bliss;
A monarch born, a man forlorn,
Nor wife nor babe to kiss.
Far, 'mid the forest drear,
A maiden without peer
His fate shall hear, and wake with fear
From dreams of little cheer.
By long and lonesome way
Two loving hearts shall stray,
That sovereign blind, in haste to find,
And Fate's behest obey.
Yet guard thyself, oh king!
Lest kindness sorrow bring!
Forbear to love, or time shall prove
That joy may hide a sting.
That pearl--a woman's love--
Might angels' envy move,
But powers that be, in wonder see,
How mortals changeful prove.
Joyous and fancy-free
Then let the maiden be,
Nor teach that child from regions wild
The meed of misery.
But if thou dost, thine own the cost,
And woe shall fall on thee!
The hollow voice ceased, once more all was still. Antiphates in vain
asked other questions, and listened impatiently for further replies.
Meeting with no more response, and thoroughly exhausted by the foul
atmosphere, he hailed his foster-brother, and, aided by him, breathed
again with thankfulness the pure outer air.
They returned to the palace in silence, for Antiphates, proud and
reserved, vouchsafed no hint of the mysterious words to which he had
listened. He had indeed ample food left him for meditation.
This visit to the mummy took place during the night, and the disguised
King passed and repassed his unslumbering sentinels by means of his own
signet-ring, occasionally entrusted by him to confidential emissaries.
The apt rhymes he had heard haunted him incessantly. The mere mention
of a forest was extraordinary--for with the exception of a fair-sized
plantation in the midst of which Castle Xylina (the king's summer
palace) stood, no large wood of any kind existed within many miles of
his capital.
As to love, the poor benighted King knew little about the capricious
god, save what he gathered from the songs of the minstrels and
troubadours, birds of passage who, ever certain of kind welcome and
liberal patronage, flocked in numbers to his court.
Unwilling to display his infirmity unnecessarily, Antiphates kept
himself aloof in general from his people. His palace was indeed the
resort of all the most talented and intellectual men of the day. His
feasts were celebrated for the brilliant conversation and witty
repartee in which, not only his guests, but the monarch himself,
occasionally indulged; at the expense of many an aching hour of lonely
reaction.
But at these banquets no ladies were present, nor had the isolated
sovereign any opportunity of becoming intimately acquainted with his
fairer subjects. There were, it is true, the singing-girls, who nightly
performed before him with guitars and cymbals, and gave the blind king
some of the happiest hours of his life. Though he could not see their
graceful forms as they gaily danced to their own music, yet the
tinkling of the silver bells on their arms and ankles formed a
rhythmical and tuneful accompaniment to their melodious voices, that
wafted fourfold enjoyment to the listening monarch. He showered
generous gifts on these damsels, each of whom he knew apart by her
voice and step. They were, however, but the toys of the hour.
When in pomp and state the King went abroad in his chariot, his fair
subjects anxiously pressed together to catch a glimpse of their
sovereign's stern yet handsome features; but though they gratified
their own curiosity, no reciprocal vision of bewildering charms crossed
the darkened vision of their lonely prince, as he was whirled proudly
by in his dazzling equipage.
Unwonted feelings therefore stirred in Antiphates' bosom as the
prophecy of the cave again and again rang through his mind. After
several days spent in musing and reflection, he resolved to return to
the oracle, and demand more exact particulars concerning the forest
maiden and the "two loving hearts" mentioned, anxious to set forth in
pursuit of them, if need be, round the world.
Antiphon therefore, favoured by the darkness, once more led his royal
foster-brother to the mountain side, but no cave could they discover,
though for several hours they wandered up and down the very spot where
the shepherd had carefully noted the entrance by certain landmarks.
Irritated and disappointed, Antiphates at last gave up the useless
search, and during the succeeding days busied himself in sending forth
express couriers over the country, north, west, and east, to seek for
the forest, and to find out and bring to Deva all discoverable denizens
of woods, forests, and thickets. Besides this, he issued a royal
mandate, setting forth that every wandering maiden should instantly be
conducted to his palace. A few strolling gipsies were in consequence
brought before him, and told innumerable falsehoods concerning their
previous lives and companions, but none of them were able to throw the
least light upon the cause of the King's defective eyesight.
Pending the result of more active measures, however, Antiphates was
roused from the apathy into which he had been plunged for many years
regarding his misfortune, and taught himself to hope he hardly knew
what, from the hidden pages of the future. But day after day went by,
and no fresh event enlivened the dismal tranquillity of the palace
precincts.
We may thus more readily understand the monarch's abrupt condescension
and excitement on hearing Fidunia's first words, and learning that she
had but lately quitted a forest. Her sweetly modulated voice at once
carried a favourable impression to his sensitive ear, and, conjoined
with the mysterious and ever-present prophecy, touched a slumbering
chord in his jaded breast.
Indeed, as they now drove back to the city from whence he had issued so
short a time before in listless uncertainty, his mind ran riot with
wild chaotic fancies.
They drew near the frowning gates of Deva. A sudden pause, as the
massive portals rolled back on their hinges, and the soldiers presented
arms, awoke Fidunia from her trance. She started and looked around,
eagerly surveying the splendours of that enchanting capital.
Meanwhile the fairer inhabitants of the town gathering, according to
primeval custom, by balcony, window, and doorway, to feast their eyes
on the royal pageant and the gallant escort of cavaliers; passed from
mouth to mouth the incredible news that a stranger damsel was seated in
their monarch's chariot. Ere the gaping crowd had time, however, to
note more than the mere outline of a drooping form, the narrow streets
were swiftly threaded, and scaling the little hill on which Xylina
stood, the whole squadron disappeared within the leafy boundaries of
King Antiphates' summer residence.
Fidunia could not repress an exclamation of delighted wonder as they
halted at the palace door.
Castle Xylina rose in turreted heights of dazzling whiteness above
them, pure as the day it was completed. In that favoured climate
neither smoke nor inclement weather marred the snowy beauties of its
marble walls and terraces. It was approached by seven broad alleys: six
of these, carpeted with natural greensward, converged through the small
wood already mentioned, towards the broad central plateau. The seventh
avenue, leading from the town, up which the King had just driven, was
like the city itself, paved with lava.
The castle from its elevated situation, commanded an exquisite prospect
towards the south across the open bay of Deva. The surrounding trees
completely shut out the neighbouring town. Only faint, distant sounds,
and the chiming of church and convent bells borne upon the air,
betokened the near presence of the busy thousands below. Innumerable
craft, moreover, moored or moving on the still blue waters, gave an air
of life to the otherwise dreamy silence, that with mistlike wings
enfolded the fair prosperous Deva and her environs as Fidunia thus
first beheld them.
But now a courtly throng pressed around, a hundred eyes were bent on
the embarrassed stranger and her singular companion, a hundred hands
out-stretched to assist her in her descent from the carriage. But no
sooner had the King himself touched the ground in safety, than he
turned, and taking her hand in his, led her slowly up the broad white
marble steps into the central hall of his magnificent palace.
She had scarcely time to glance round her ere her royal host, divining
both her fatigue and her bashfulness, summoned and gave minute
directions to the women of the palace regarding her welfare, and
resigned her into their charge. Smiling kindly on their unexpected
guest, they ushered her along lofty passages to a chamber widely
different from any the simple maiden had ever beheld either in her
wanderings or even in her dreams.
Thoroughly overcome by fatigue, and hardly pausing even to partake of
the tempting fare presented to her, or to survey the beauties of her
new abode, Fidunia sought her pillow. The neat-handed abigails, after
preparing a bed for Fido within the recess where stood his mistress's
couch, retired, first bidding her summon them at will, as their
apartments were close at hand.
Youth and exhaustion soon closed the stranger's eyes, and it was late
on the following day before Fidunia could rouse herself completely from
her heavy slumbers.
At length a continuous plashing sound mingled itself with her dreams.
She thought she was once more in her forest home, and that the little
fountain with its clear bubbling waters invited her to her morning
bath.