As she held the little dog close to her breast, rejoicing over his return, she felt something of a novel character around his neck. She gently unfastened a cord, and found attached to it a small phial carefully sealed, yet emitting a wondrous fragrance.
Somehow assuming from her companion's quiescent attitude that the flask was for her own use, she slipped it into her bosom, and forgetting all else, again yielded herself to vague yearnings over the unfulfilled visions of the past. It was long before she stepped from the window, and placing Fido on the ground prepared for her last night's rest in the palace.
As she let down the now lengthened tresses of her thick hair, Fido though evidently exhausted, refused to lie down. Seemingly ill at ease, he watched her every movement with painful anxiety. When at length she drew near the marble bath, wherein she nightly plunged, his agitation knew no bounds, and as in undressing she displaced the phial from her garments he uttered a series of short sharp barks restlessly springing the while backwards and forwards from his mistress to the edge of the alcove. So close was the companionship between Fidunia and her faithful companion, that she at once divined his meaning, and undoing the seal and extracting the stopper from the bottle, she emptied its contents into the water. Scarcely had she done so when the whole chamber became filled with a delicious perfume. As one in a trance, half overcome by the powerful scent, Fidunia entered her bath, and felt at once the extraordinary invigorating power which seemed to emanate from those few drops of liquid.
All sorrow was lifted from her heart. Already in imagination she joined in the sweet praiseful strains of the Sebastian sisters. Angelic forms moved around her, and the moon's pale rays at length guided the weary maiden to her pillow. Stretching out one soft arm over her faithful dog, lying in his cot by her side, and lulled by a foretaste of heaven's own music, Fidunia sank into dreams of ecstatic beauty.
The loud pealing of a thousand bells for the Festival of All Saints at last awoke the neophyte from her deep repose. For a moment she started and half forgot her resting place; but her eye fell upon her little dog. Something strange in his attitude struck her. Startled, she sprang to her feet and bent over him.
His sleep was surely very deep! Yes, Fidunia! sound are those slumbers from which not even the touch of thy beloved hand can rouse his wearied form, or call forth a response from the wistful eyes, wont to hang upon thy lightest gesture.
With an exceeding bitter cry, Fidunia fell beside her lost favourite and vainly chafed his stiffening limbs. As she stooped over him, her eyes swimming in tears, she perceived in the morning light a small scroll lying on the floor by his couch. She hastily raised it, and noted "This for Fidunia" traced upon the outer covering. She tore it open, and through the mists of sorrow that perpetually dimmed her vision, she read these words:
"Sweet daughter, when thou readest this, thy faithful servant will be no more. Know that the little dog, Fido, through many past days and nights hath mourned over thine exceeding sorrow and thy low estate.
"He held thee altogether lovely, but he knew from human fellowship that those who owed most to thy labours, my child, had weighed thine outward beauty in the balance and found it wanting. He watched thine affliction till his own heart went nigh to break; and then, calling to remembrance my counsels and assistance to thee, he left thy side, and through many hardships and with great fatigue he gained once more my little cottage by the wide and spreading common. I made known to him that the gift of earthly beauty could only be thine through the self-sacrifice of one who loved thee to the death. Thy faithful companion hath cheerfully laid down his sinless existence for thy dear sake.
"Heaven guard thee and guide thee, Fidunia!