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 When that cheering beam is withdrawn, how colourless and scentless, how devoid of beauty, do their drooping blossoms become!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