"Anna."
As Fidunia, penetrated to her very inmost soul by the dying fidelity of her beloved dog, sank again over his inanimate frame, a loud and persistent knocking made itself heard at her chamber door. She had barely time to cast on her outer garments before the palace women, alarmed by her first cry, and hearing no response to their summons, thrust open the door and drew inquisitively near the weeping maiden.
Fidunia rose from her knees, and casting an indignant look on the amazed intruders, she exclaimed, "Behold your thoughtless work! It was through you and yours that my poor dog learnt the small esteem in which his mistress was held, and has thus been goaded to his death."
No answer came from the gathering throng. Awed and abashed, they herded together. Whence came the ineffable beauty that sat upon Fidunia's brow, and cast a radiance over her shining hair? That it was the forest maiden none could doubt, but how exquisitely soft and fair her lineaments, as standing in the morning sun before her dead comrade's couch, she gave vent to her feelings of passionate reproach.
At this moment Domenichino, hastily entering, heralded the King's approach. The news of the death of Fido and of Fidunia's miraculous and new-born beauty had spread like wild-fire through the Castle.
Antiphates, no less bewildered than his subjects, hesitated half awe-struck on the threshold of the young girl's chamber, which he now for the first time proposed to enter. Recovering himself promptly, however, with an imperious gesture he signed to his surrounding people to leave the apartment, and then slowly advanced to the now silent but still weeping Fidunia.
In bygone days, all unknown to the sightless monarch, the very sound of his approaching footsteps had power to suffuse her cheek with blushes. Now coldly conscious of his presence, she stood before him without responsive sign, the loveliest creature upon God's wide earth, the realized ideal of his fairest dreams.
Wrapped in her white morning robe, with her yet unbound hair falling back in rich clustering masses from her pure pale brow and pearly skin of dazzling whiteness; a solemn depth shone from her dark blue eyes, bearing still a wealth of tears unshed; while a faint evanescent colour like the transparent petal of the wood anemone played upon her rounded cheek.
All unknown to herself, clothed in this wondrous panoply of beauty, Fidunia awaited her sovereign's commands. To her unspeakable surprise the monarch seemed overcome with some unbidden emotion. Again and again he vainly assayed to speak; at length, drawing near, he bent his proud knee before her, and in agitated tones besought her pardon.
"Sire," replied Fidunia, "as regards myself, I have little to forgive, but would that my dumb companion had been spared the knowledge that hath cost him his faithful life."