foliage above her head; lovely rosy curtains fell instead on either
side of her soft little couch. She raised herself--surprised and
wondering--at her first movement, Fido already on the alert, capered
across the tesselated floor, oddly slipping hither and thither on its
smooth surface.
She stepped carefully from her alcove, and proceeded on a voyage of
exploration. She soon ascertained that the sound of running water was
no vain product of her own imagination, but that it came from a recess
corresponding to that in which she had slept. Within this niche a
marble Triton poured through his conch-shell a continuous stream. On
either side the entrance to the snowy basin beneath, a nymph so stood
that the roseate curtains could either be held back in their extended
arms, or loosened completely to shut off the recess from the rest of
the room.
Overjoyed at discovering this welcome substitute for her oft-regretted
forest spring, Fidunia swiftly performed her simple toilet.
With all the carelessness of one little accustomed to regard her
personal appearance, she hardly even glanced at the magnificent
burnished mirror and its costly accessories, but hastened from window
to window, eager to become acquainted with her new abode.
Towards the south, connected outside by a shady verandah, three long
windows fronted the open bay, commanding the same extensive view that
had delighted her the evening before. Two of similar form opened
eastward, and Fidunia could scarcely repress a shudder, as raising her
eyes to scan the more distant horizon, she beheld, frowning behind
nearer slopes of verdant loveliness, the grim mountain of her dreams,
whose gloomy boundaries she had skirted on the previous day. A
slumberous cloud partially shrouded its dark heights. In the vista of
coast, cape, and blue headland lengthening beyond, earth, sea, and sky,
melted into one indistinguishable haze of atmospheric beauty.
Easily unfastening one of these eastern windows, Fidunia perceived a
flight of steps leading thence into the palace gardens below. Followed
by Fido, the fearless child of nature quickly descended the stairs, and
plunged into the artificial intricacies of the pleasure grounds
beneath.
A thrill of remembrance came upon her. Surely she had trodden these
trim-kept walks before, and inhaled the strange rich odour of the
blossoming orange that hung heavy on the air?
Stopping, bewildered, she raised her hand to her brow. As she thus
stood rapt in thought, the noise of approaching voices apprised her
that Antiphates, leaning on the arm of Domenichino, drew near. Swift as
lightning, recollection flashed across her. While the impatient monarch
came towards her, guided by his servant, she half expected to see and
hear the tiny elves who in her forest dreams had swung and sung their
eerie refrain amid just such scenes as these.
When the King learned that she had not yet broken her fast, he
commanded food to be brought to an arbour near at hand, where he
himself joined his guest. He found much entertainment in trying to
follow the movements of the little dog, who, summoned by his mistress,
went through all his pretty tricks.
With unwonted softness in his voice and manner, Antiphates strove to
set Fidunia at her ease, and to engage her in conversation. He led her
on to speak of herself and of her previous lonely life. He encouraged
her to tell him all that had befallen her since she left the forest.
Domenichino oftentimes listened in surprise. His master, hitherto so
hasty and imperious, with rare patience, endeavoured to overcome
Fidunia's timidity and reserve. Antiphates even forgot to murmur
continually at his own affliction--nay, he felt a certain pleasure in
claiming the young girl's assistance, as they wandered together in the
gardens, or moved from room to room of the palace.
Day after day glided swiftly away, and life became a fresh pleasure to
the weary King as he listened to the strange adventures and artless
sayings of the ingenuous maiden. He derived perpetual amusement from
her novel descriptions of familiar objects presented to him under a
widely different aspect by her humorous remarks.
For years upon years he had existed with all of visible beauty veiled
from his sight; and he now conjured up to himself an exquisite ideal of
his youthful companion. Her low melodious voice, her gentle touch, and
her soft light step, full of grace, taught him insensibly to dream of a
far fairer form than poor Fidunia actually possessed.
He became so deeply interested in his new friend, that ere long that
interest was merged in love. Morning, noon, and night, he was her
inseparable companion, nor could he rest quiet when she was absent from
him. He found in her society a nameless charm that tamed and softened
his arrogant spirit. With extraordinary humility he learnt to defer to
her slightest wish. With unwonted self-abnegation, he laid siege to the
citadel of her heart.
Listening entranced to his tender words, there now ensued a period
when, for the first time to the guileless Fidunia, if not to her more
experienced suitor,
"Love took up the glass of Time, and turned it in his glowing
hands;
Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands.
Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with
might;
Smote the chord of self, that, trembling, passed in music out
of sight."
Antiphates soon told the wondering maiden all he had heard in the cave.
His thoughts turned continually upon the mysterious prophecy, and they
often held sweet counsel together over those singular but
well-remembered words.
A dim foreboding of evil in the future, and an intense clinging to the
peaceful joyous life of the present, led Fidunia to approach this
subject with secret reluctance. An inward voice told her she possessed
not beauty's potent charm; yet she felt that to her blind monarch she
was all in all. Again and again she had to stifle the rising fear of
possible change in his love, and chided herself for unworthy thoughts
and lukewarm energy.
With all the eagerness of his impetuous nature, Antiphates constantly
recurred to the charge, urging Fidunia to do her utmost to deliver him
from his infirmity. In glowing terms he depicted the pleasures of their
common existence if he were able, not merely to hear and to feel, but
to watch and to guide his heart's beloved through her future life.
As he spoke, the forest maid often felt the hidden talisman rise and
fall with the heavings of her tender bosom. Obedient to the donor, she
never disclosed its existence, even to Antiphates, or told him of her
strange dreams. It needed, however, no small resolution on her part to
avail herself of the charm so solemnly committed to her charge by Dame
Anna. At length, unable longer to resist the oft-repeated solicitations
of her royal lover, she faithfully promised him to exert her feeble
powers to the utmost on his behalf.
With a lingering footstep she sought her chamber that evening, filled
with awe at the prospect of invoking the aid of her scarce known
friend. When all was silent for the night, Fidunia trimmed the classic
lamp by her bedside, for it was the new moon, and no light came from
without. Watched only by the wakeful Fido, she drew the sparkling prism
from its accustomed place. Remembering her instructions, she placed it
in the palm of her hand, then bent (for another's sake), on peering
into futurity, she resolutely fixed her eyes on the talisman. Swaying
to and fro with the intensity of her emotions, she chanted the required
invocation:
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.
The magic stone grew larger and larger. Its brilliant centre, like a
searching eye, returned Fidunia's gaze with dazzling refulgence.
Heavier and heavier drooped her falling lids, her recumbent form sought
more and more the support of her little couch, at length borne down by
resistless force, she lay unnerved and motionless.
The lamp became extinguished. All was dark, silent, and blank. Her
corporeal frame slumbered inert and passive. But now every spiritual
faculty throbbed into keen activity. The whole chamber was filled with
soft penetrating light. The kind Anna's well-remembered form stood
beside her. With one hand she raised Fidunia on her couch, with the
other she pointed towards the south.
To Fidunia's intense surprise, she beheld a ray of moonlight illumine
the sombre waters of the Bay of Deva, reaching in one narrow unbroken
line to what she well knew as the distant though hitherto unvisited
island of Spera. She gazed bewildered from her raised alcove, which
commanded an easy view of the landscape beneath, through the wide, open
windows.
How could the small silver horn of the newborn moon cast such brilliant
light on the dark ocean? She turned a troubled glance towards her
unwonted visitant, but her voice was spell-bound; the questions she
fain would have uttered died upon her lips. With a sad and solemn
gesture her protectress still pointed towards the heights of Spera,
then sighed, rather than said these lines:
Far, far o'er the depths of that shimm'ring blue sea,
The drops trickle slowly so sought for by thee;
Enwrapt by the jealous embrace of the deep,
A lake without sky, without motion doth sleep.
Though distant, and hidden the shrine of the cave
By the busy bright waters its entrance that lave,
Yet only the touch of an innocent maiden
Can e'er give effect to those drops virtue-laden.
At midnight a ray shall illumine the portal
All sombre and silent, ne'er threaded by mortal.
At midnight, by moonlight, that path can be crossed,
By her, who heroic, ne'er counteth the cost.
Oh, chilly the ocean, and lonely the hour,
Or the charm that thou seekest is reft of its power;
And voiceless and mute thine endeavours must be,
Or fruitless thy labours and harmful to thee.
Yet, maiden, forbear! ere thou challenge the spell
Remember--with thee and with thine it is well!
In thee and thy love the blind monarch is blest:
Then dwell in his palace--Fidunia--at rest.
As the last couplet fell on Fidunia's ears all else became as nought.
The dear thought of her first and faithful lover filled her imaginative
mind. What recked she of trouble or sorrow to be undergone in his
service! Would she not even give life itself for the sake of him who
had first called into existence all the passionate but unknown wealth
of her unselfish soul! Dreamily she recalled to herself his whispered
vows, his ardent tones, and thus from waking dreams slowly fell on
sleep, undisturbed and profound.
It was late the following morning before she awoke to the realities of
life. As she dressed herself she pondered much over the visions of the
night. Was all a dream, like her forest fancies?
She looked everywhere for the talisman, but it was nowhere to be seen.
Its absence weighed somewhat heavily on her mind. The reality of her
midnight experience was brought home to her, as she perpetually missed
the shining stone from its wonted hiding-place.
Fidunia now hastened to her monarch's presence. Considering that the
loss of the talisman released her from her promise of secrecy, she
confided its whole history to the astonished King. She told him also
her waking vision of the previous night. She described Dame Anna's
appearance, and repeated some of her words.
Thoroughly roused Antiphates entreated Fidunia to keep nothing more
concealed from him. Using all his powers of persuasion he at length
drew from her unwilling lips the particulars of her three wild forest
dreams.
[Illustration: FIDO AND FIDUNIA.
"Thoroughly roused, Antiphates entreated Fidunia to keep nothing
more concealed from him."--P. 170.]
In a voice trembling with emotion he hailed the forest maiden as his
predestined deliverer, nor was his eager curiosity satisfied till he
had asked innumerable questions. Fidunia sighed as she noted his
feverish agitation. Remembering the warning contained in the last
rhythmical lines, she feared lest his hopes should be dashed to the
ground.
As they sat together in his favourite turret above the castle porch, he
explained to her that rumour spoke of a hidden cave in the Isle of
Spera. Recalling to mind the line of light she had so distinctly seen
across the bay, Fidunia pointed it out as having terminated beneath the
highest peak of the island. Antiphates decided that an endeavour to
find the cave should be made when the moon next became full. He would
fain himself have aided in the search; but Fidunia, anxious to have her
mind steadfastly set on the one object of the expedition, persuaded him
to remain within the palace, and to allow her to go forth guarded only
by Domenichino.
Domenichino secretly hired, as for his own use, one of the boats
belonging to a fisherman of Spera. He carefully questioned the men of
the place about their island. They all seemed aware of the probable
existence of a cave only accessible from the sea, but partly from the
dreamy indolence common to those climes, partly from superstition, no
one had as yet discovered its entrance. A thousand old legends,
however, sung of the hidden beauties of this wondrous grotto, a hundred
wild tales were told among these simple people of the magic and
wonder-working fountain therein concealed from mortal eyes.
At last the time arrived when, at midnight, Cynthia should reach her
cold meridian of beauty. Fidunia resolved to leave Fido for the first
time behind her. She committed him to the willing charge of the King,
but the little animal, who from the first had taken a dislike to
Antiphates, could not be got away from his mistress's chamber. There,
extended on the moonlit verandah, he remained during her absence,
disconsolate and wakeful.
It was a night of peaceful calm. As the sturdy rowers urged on their
vessel, her bows parted the waters into a thousand phosphorescent
ripples, which, widening as the boat moved onward, spread into one
broad, flaming wake in their rear.
Fidunia carried with her an ancient gold goblet, wherein the King
besought her to place the precious drops, should she succeed in
obtaining them. Grasping it tightly in her hand, as if to persuade
herself she was not dreaming, she gazed awestruck on the overwhelming
beauty of the landscape, arrayed in night's fairest covering.
Already distant, the City of Deva lay white and ghost-like under the
moon's pale ray. Here and there a gleam of light showed that there were
watchers on land, and from the high turret window of Castle Xylina one
ruddy gleam shot a quivering reflection far along the ever-lengthening
track of their little craft.
Before them the nearing crags of Spera rose abrupt and beetling towards
the sky. The boat moved rapidly along. Now became audible the surging
swell and low muffled boom of the ocean, ever chafing, ever restless,
even when apparently at peace; and ever repelled by those giant
sentinels of the deep. Numbers of sea-birds, disturbed by the unwonted
splash of oars, wheeled screaming above their heads, and suddenly
brought to Fidunia's mind with agitating distinctness the recollection
of her second forest dream.
But all other thoughts were merged in the approaching performance of
her self-imposed task. They had gradually rounded the opening to a
little bay where the water seemed more shallow, and the sea only broke
in tiny wavelets upon a small shelf of pearly white sand. Here Fidunia
stepped from the boat. Leaving human companionship behind, she slowly
paced along the narrow margin. Finally, following the moon-lit line and
heedful of Domenichino's oft-repeated instructions, she disappeared
behind the frowning ledge of rock which bounded the narrow inlet.
Only a very few minutes after she had thus gone from their sight, they
could hear dimly across the intervening waters, the faint tolling of
the midnight bells in the great City. In indescribable anxiety
Domenichino, who alone (among these rude boat-men) knew her peril,
counted the minutes till Fidunia's return, and resolved that at the
expiration of a certain time he would at all risks persist in following
the unprotected maiden.
But, ere the appointed period had elapsed, Fidunia, with buoyant steps,
turned swiftly the dark boundary and rapidly drew near. High resolve
sat upon her brow and stamped her features with a noble ardour. Closely
clasped to her bosom she held the precious vase, but to no mortal ear
might she unfold the thrilling tale of her solitary experience.
Had she within those mystic precincts heard a warning voice which bade
her pause ere she dashed the cup of earthly happiness from her lips?
How and where had she obtained the crystal liquid that leapt and
sparkled in its golden prison? Had she entered the ice-cold waters and
braved the wave-engulfing arms of the merry, malicious mer-men, who
warily watch, and at the midnight hour have power to bear to their
coral haunts the bold earth-maiden who shall step within their native
element?
These, and numberless other questions, crowded into Domenichino's mind
as he sped to meet her; but she raised her finger to her lips, and with
a mute gesture of entreaty silently took her place in the little
vessel. The weather-beaten boatmen shrank back as she passed them by,
her hair and garments glistening with a thousand rainbow-coloured
drops; yet, as she dreamily took her place in the stern, one, less
bashful than his compeers, awkwardly placed his rough coat so as to
shelter and keep her warm.
The wind had arisen. It swept moaningly around, hurrying dark clouds
across the face of the moon, and presently shrouding her altogether
from their sight. But the red tower-light from distant Xylina guided
the homeward-bound crew, and ere very long they were safely landed
below the slumbering City.
Still voiceless, Fidunia, with lagging footsteps, ascended the steep
hill. Her energy was gone; she leant heavily on Domenichino's arm, and
but for his aid must have fallen more than once exhausted by the way.
At last the castle was reached. In answer to her signal the faithful
esquire knocked at his master's turret door. An impatient voice bade
them enter. Antiphates himself, stumbling hastily to meet them, started
as he took Fidunia's cold hand in his. She gently withstood his eager
inquiries and solicitude for her health. "Sire," she murmured, "I am
very weary, but these poor hands must this night bathe your eyes."
At her words the King, obedient, sank on a couch near at hand, and
Fidunia, dipping her fingers into the golden goblet, timidly pressed
them again and again over his burning eyelids. Her cool, soft touch
soothed his irritated nerves and brought refreshing peace to his
restless mind. A strange calm folded its enshadowing wings around those
busy brows and wrapt the imperious monarch in a sweet and childlike
slumber.
Raising her finger again to her lips, in token of silence, and signing
to Domenichino to leave his sovereign for the night, Fidunia quitted
the turret chamber and sought her own apartment. Here the listening
Fido greeted her approaching footsteps with a whine of delight, and
testified his joy at her return by many expressive gambols.
Long into the night she sat on her balcony, acting over in thought
again and again the exciting scenes of that eventful evening. It seemed
to her she had only just fallen asleep when she was suddenly startled
from her slumbers by a loud paean of rejoicing blown from the castle
wall by the silver trumpets.
For a moment recollection failed her, but then glad certainty flashed
on her mind, and, as if to make assurance doubly sure, some of the
women of the palace, rushing abruptly into her chamber, confirmed the
glad tidings. They urged her to arise and dress in haste, for the King
could not rest till he had seen and thanked his deliverer in person.
Fidunia hurriedly arrayed herself. Accompanied by Fido, she hastened
along the now well-known passages of the palace. She ascended the broad
stairs and passed the tall guards in the corridor, with their nodding
plumes. The doors of the presence chamber were thrown open before her.
On the threshold she stood a moment irresolute. Then, notwithstanding
their intimacy, knowing his newly-gained power, she advanced timidly
towards the great King. There was a pause, she raised her eyes to his.
The monarch seemed transformed! Instead of half-closed, unseeing eyes,
and all the accompanying hesitation and uncertainty, two searching orbs
now bent their dark majesty full on the bashful maiden. In that one
moment she drank in the fatal secret, which no after-words could
disguise.
It was but too true!
A passionate adorer of beauty, Antiphates had, during the past months,
almost unknown to himself, clothed his unseen love with perfect
loveliness. His heart therefore beat high with expectation as her
footfall was heard at the door, and when, with her attendant Fido, she
entered alone, he could not control the impulse of disappointment too
plainly written on his expressive, speaking countenance.
The dawn of light on his long-darkened orbs revealed to him the
unattractive colouring and irregular features of the being he had in
blindness learned to adore, and no self-command on his part could
conceal from love's unerring instinct his change of mood.
Now, however, with well-simulated alacrity, he rose from his throne.
Stepping down with a free, unfettered gait, widely different from his
wonted stumbling manner, he took the maiden's hand in his own. Pouring
confused and hurried thanks into her ear, he led her to the seat where
she had passed so many happy hours.
In vain he strove to conjure back the fascination Fidunia once
possessed for him. Oh! subtle influence! who can accurately define the
thrilling tie that makes the one we love different from all the world
beside? who, when the frail chain of enchantment is once severed, can
join again those mystic links?
The King and Fidunia conversed in low tones, apparently unchanged: the
gay courtiers around at least observed no cloud on the horizon. Waiting
within call, they clustered eagerly around Domenichino to hear his
adventures of the previous night, and to discuss together the
approaching marriage of the maiden, now beloved by all, with their
fortune-favoured prince. They recked not of the cold shadow that crept
slowly into the little maid's heart, and clouded her fair and hitherto
untroubled sky.
Fido alone, close and vigilant, marked the awakening sorrow of his
beloved mistress. He felt the hand that caressed him grow cold and
pulseless. He noted the accent of despair in Fidunia's choking voice.
His unsophisticated nature rose indignant at the selfishness of the
human friend, who (after such vows breathed, and responded to by her to
whom they were addressed), could change and grow indifferent to the
being who had gone through so much for his sake.
How true it is that maidens, like flowers, expand in the presence of
him they love, in the warm sunshine of adoration. When that cheering
beam is withdrawn, how colourless and scentless, how devoid of beauty,
do their drooping blossoms become!
Even so it was with Fidunia, the happy light that had of late dawned in
her gray eyes now faded away. Hour after hour she wept alone on her
sleepless pillow, sadly musing over times departed,
"Departed never to return."
One wakeful night she poured out her thoughts in these words:
The silent hour of night prevailed, the Earth
Was in her first and dewy slumber, while
The Moon unveiled her pure and peerless light,
And threw her radiance o'er the dusky haunts
Of men.
An atom on the world's broad breast
Alone, beneath those chilly beams I mused,
On Death and Immortality.
My soul
Sped swiftly upward on the ethereal ray,
And left enthralled the grosser part of self,
The slumbering mortal portion of my frame.
* * * * *