where her couch was spread with embroidered coverlets. The walls all
round were covered with curious paintings, telling of the deeds of
gods and heroes--how golden Aphrodite loved Ares, the god of War, and
Apollo the nymph Daphne, whom he changed into a laurel-tree that never
fades. There was Ariadne, too, upon her island, whom the young god
Dionysus found and comforted in her sore distress; and Adonis, the
beautiful shepherd, the fairest of mortal men.
Psyche, tired out by all the wonders she had seen during the day, sank
down upon her couch, and was soon asleep. But sleep had not long
sealed her lids before she was awakened by a stir in the room. The
curtain over her head rustled as though someone were standing beside
her. She lay still, almost fainting with terror, scarcely daring to
breathe, when she heard a voice softly call her by name.
"Psyche, my own, my beloved, at last I have got thee, my dear one."
And two strong arms were round her and a kiss upon her lips. Then she
knew that at last the bridegroom she had waited for so long had come
to claim her, and in her happiness she cared not to know who he was,
but was content to feel his arms about her and hear her name upon his
lips. And so she fell asleep again. When she awoke in the morning her
first thought was to look on the face of the husband who had come in
the dark night, but nowhere could she find him. All the day she passed
in company of the mysterious voices who had ministered to her before;
but though their kindness and courtesy was never failing, she wandered
disconsolately about the empty halls, longing for the night-time, and
wondering whether her lover would come again. As soon as it was dark
she went again to her chamber, and there once more he came to her and
swore that she was his for evermore, and that nothing should part
them. But always he left her before it was light and came to her again
when night had fallen, so that she never saw his face nor knew what he
was like. Yet so well did she love and trust him that she never cared
to ask him his secret. So the days and nights sped swiftly by, for in
the daylight Psyche found plenty to amuse her in the enchanted palace
and garden, and she did not think of loneliness when every night she
could hold sweet converse with her beloved.
But one evening when he came to her he was troubled, and said,
"Psyche, my dear one, great danger threatens us, and I must needs ask
thee somewhat that shall grieve thy tender heart."
"Mine own lord," she said, "what can there be that I would not gladly
do for thee?"
"Well do I know, beloved, that thou wouldst give thy life for me. But
that which I ask will grieve thee sore, for thou must refuse the boon
thy sisters shall ask thee."
"My sisters! They know not where I am. How, then, can they ask me a
boon?"
"Even now they stand upon the lonely rock where thou wast left for me,
to see if they can find thee or learn aught of thy fate. And they will
call thee by name through the echoing rocks, but thou must answer them
never a word."
"What, my lord! wouldst thou have my sisters go home disconsolate,
thinking that I am dead? Nay, surely, thou wouldst not be so hard of
heart? But let me bid the soft west wind, that wafted me hither, bring
them too, that they may look upon my happiness and take back the
tidings to mine aged sire."
"Psyche, thou knowest not what thou askest. Foolish of heart are thy
sisters, and they love the trappings and outward show of woe, and with
their mourning they wring their father's aching heart till he can bear
it no more. So he hath sent them forth to see whether they can hear
aught of thy fate. And, full of their own hearts' shallow grief, they
seek thee on the mountain-side, thinking to find thy bones bleaching
in the rays of the sun. Were they to see thy happiness, their hearts
would be filled with envy and malice. They would speak evil of me, and
taunt thee on thine unknown lord, and bid thee look upon my face and
see lest I be some foul monster. And Psyche, mine own wife, the night
that thou seest my face shall be the night that shall part us for
evermore, and thy first look shall be thy last. Therefore answer them
not, I pray thee, but stay with me and be my bride."
And Psyche was troubled at these words, for she thought her husband
wronged her sisters. Nevertheless, unwilling to displease him, she
said,
"I will do thy will, my lord, even as thou sayest."
Yet all the day long she thought on her sisters wandering on the bleak
mountain-side, and how they would call for her by name, and at length
go sadly home to her father's house and bring no comfort. The more she
thought on it the sadder she became, and when her husband came to her,
her face was wet with tears. In vain he tried to comfort her. She only
sobbed the more.
"All my joy is turned to bitterness," she said, "when I think on the
grief that bows down my father's heart. If but for one day I could
bring my sisters here and show them my happiness, they would bear the
news to him, and in my joy he would be happy too. Let them but come
and look at this fair home of mine, and surely it will not harm me or
thee, my dear lord?"
"I have not the heart to refuse thee, Psyche," he said, "though it
goeth against me to grant this. I fear that evil will come. If they
ask thee of me, answer them not."
Psyche was overjoyed at his consent, and thanked him, and put her arms
about his neck and said,
"My dearest lord, all thou sayest I will do. For wert thou Eros, the
god of Love himself, I could not love thee more."
IV
The next day, when Psyche was left alone, she went out into the valley
to see whether she could hear her sisters calling her. And sure
enough, she had not gone far, when high up above her head, from the
top of the cliff, she heard her name, "Psyche, O Psyche! where art
thou?" At this she was overjoyed,
"O gentle Zephyr!" she called, "O fair west wind! waft, oh, waft my
sisters to me!"
Scarcely had she said the words than she saw her sisters gently borne
down from the cliff above and set upon the ground beside her. She fell
upon their necks and kissed them.
"Ah, my dear sisters," she cried, "how happy am I to see you! Welcome
to my new home. See, I am not tortured, as you thought. Nay, my life
is bliss, as you shall see for yourselves. Come, enter in with me."
And she took them by the hand and led them through the golden gates.
The ministering voices played soft music in the air, and a rich feast
was spread before them. All through the palace Psyche led them, and
showed them all her treasures, and brought out her choicest jewels,
and bade them choose out and keep as many as they wished.
All this time, though there was no corner of the palace that she kept
hidden from them, she spoke no word of her mysterious husband. At
length they could contain their curiosity no longer, and one made bold
to ask her,
"Psyche, thou livest not here alone, of a surety. Yet where is thy
lord? All thy treasures hast thou shown us, but him, the giver of
all, we have not seen. Who is he, then? Surely he, whom the winds and
bodiless voices obey, must be a god, and no mortal man. Tell us of
him, we pray thee."
And Psyche remembered her husband's warning.
"My lord," she said, "is a huntsman bold, and over hill and dale he
rides this day after the swift-footed stag. As fair as the dawn is he,
and the first down of youth is on his cheek. All through the hours of
sunlight he goeth forth to the chase, and at eventime he returneth to
me."
It was now close on night, and the shadows fell long across the cool
green lawns of the garden. Psyche bethought her that it was high time
for her sisters to go, before they could ply her with questions. So,
kissing them farewell, and sending many a loving message to the king
her father, she called on Zephyr to waft them away to the top of the
cliff.
Hitherto the surprise and wonder at all they had seen and heard had
filled the minds of the two sisters. But when they found themselves
once more alone upon the barren mountain-slopes, they had leisure to
think and compare their lot with that of their sister. Before they had
seen her golden halls they had been quite content with their own
palaces. But these now seemed humble beside the splendours they had
just left. Their shallow hearts were quite filled up with the image of
themselves, and they had no room left for their sister. But now her
good fortune forced the remembrance of her upon them, and they were
filled with an envy and jealousy of her which conquered even their
love for themselves. They could not be content to return once more to
their homes, and receive the homage of their husbands and their
households. Their one thought was how they might spoil her happiness.
For the hatred that is born of self-love is an all-consuming passion
that burns up every kind and noble thought, as a forest fire burns up
the tall trees that stand in the path of its fury.
"How cruel and unjust," cried one, "that she, the youngest, should be
blest so far above us both. My lord is a very beggar to him who giveth
Psyche her golden halls to dwell in."
"Yea, and mine is an old man by the side of this beardless youth.
Sister, thy grief and mine are one. Side by side let us work, and
verily her cunning shall be great if she can avail against us and keep
her ill-gotten wealth."
"Thou sayest well. 'Twas from pride that she welcomed us to her halls
to flaunt her riches before us. Sister, I am with thee. Quickly let us
plan some plot to unrobe this upstart maiden of her vaunted godhead."
Whereupon they agreed together to bring their father no word of
Psyche's happiness. They tore their robes and loosed their hair, as
though all this while they had been wandering over the rough mountain
rocks.
"Ah, sire," they cried, "how can we tell thee the evil tidings?
Nowhere can we find our sister, or any trace of her. Verily, the
oracle lieth not, and she is the bride of some fell monster."
Their cruel words smote their father to the heart, and quenched the
feeble spark of hope that still burned in his breast. And when all
hope leaves the heart of man, life leaves him, too. So the old king
died, and his blood was on the hands of his own children, and one day
they paid the penalty with their lives.
Meanwhile, Psyche lived on in the happy valley in blissful content.
Her husband would often warn her that her sisters were plotting her
ruin, but she would listen to nothing against them. At last one night
he said,
"Psyche, to-morrow thy sisters will seek thee once again. This time
they will not wait for Zephyr to bear them down, but, trusting
themselves to the barren air, they will hurl themselves from the
cliff, and be dashed to pieces on the rocks below. Leave them to their
fate. 'Twill be due penalty for their crime, and 'tis the only way
that we can be saved, beloved."
"My lord," cried Psyche, "thy cruelty would kill my love for thee,
were it not immortal. But, in very truth, all my joy would be slain
did I know that my sisters were killed when I could have saved them.
Oh, dearest husband, by the love that makes us one, I beseech thee,
send Zephyr once more to bear my sisters hither."
And she sobbed so pitifully and prayed so earnestly that once again he
had not the heart to refuse.
So about noontide the next day Psyche heard loud knocking and cries at
the door, and she hastened to open it herself to her sisters. Again
she kissed them, and bade them welcome, and they deceived her with
flattery and honeyed words, and when she was off her guard one said,
"Come, tell us, Psyche, thy husband's name. Among the immortal gods,
where doth he take his place, and why is he not here to greet us?"
"My husband," she replied, "is a rich merchant. Many a long year hath
it taken to build up all the fortune you behold, for already the hair
about his temples is touched with snow. And this day hath he gone a
long journey to a distant town in search of rich merchandise, and he
returneth not till the setting of the sun."
Then quickly she called on Zephyr to bear them away before they could
ply her with questions.
When her husband came that night he was more troubled than before, and
begged her to see them no more, but let them be dashed to death on the
rocks if they troubled her again. Her pure heart, however, would
believe no evil of them; and in this one thing she disobeyed her lord.
V
Meanwhile, the second visit of the sisters to Psyche in her beautiful
home had but served to add fuel to the fire of their envy. When they
remembered her confusion and the different tales she had told them
about her unknown lord, jealousy whispered in their ears that all her
happiness depended on the keeping of her secret, and that secret they
straightway determined to know.
"'Tis a strange lord, methinks," said one, "who in the waxing and
waning of a single moon doth change from a beardless boy to a grave
and reverend merchant whose hair is touched with snow."
"True, sister. And therein lieth the secret of her happiness. Her
lying tale but proves that she hath never seen her lord. And verily,
he who would hide his face from the queen of his heart must be some
child of the Immortals, whose love for an earth-born maid must be hid
from gods and men."
"Yea, and they who are loved of the Immortals are themselves immortal,
too, and their seed after them. Truly, sister, that Psyche should be a
goddess is more than I can bear."
"I feel with thee! It is not meet that the youngest should have all.
Let us invent some lying tale which shall make her look upon her lord,
and break the spell which binds him to her."
"What sayest thou to the words of the oracle that doomed her to wed a
monster? Let us go to her and say that now we know this to be true,
and beg her to flee from a fate so vile."
So once more they trusted themselves to Zephyr, for Psyche had
prevailed upon her lord to promise that, so long as her sisters should
do her no harm, Zephyr should always be waiting to carry them to and
fro from her.
Early the next day she was aroused from sleep by the sound of weeping
and lamentation at her door, and she hastened to meet her sisters,
fearing some ill news. And they fell upon her neck, crying,
"Alas, alas, for thine evil fate!"
"Mine evil fate, sisters? What mean ye? All is well with me."
"Ah, so thou thinkest in thine heart's innocence. Even so falleth the
dove a victim to the hawk that wheeleth above."
"What talk is this of doves and hawks? Come, my sisters, weep no more,
for in this pleasant vale even the winds of heaven breathe gently on
me, so good and great is my lord who commandeth them."
"Thy lord! Hast ever seen his face, child, that thou callest him good
and great?"
"Nay," she answered, blushing to think that they had guessed her
secret, "'tis true I have not seen his face, but what need to look
upon him when all around me breathes of his love for me?"
"Hast never heard tell of foul monsters that wed with the daughters of
men, and come to them only in the night season, when the darkness can
hide their deformity? They cast a spell about their victims, and by
their wiles and enchantments they make all things about them seem
fair. But one day, when they have had their fill, and tire of the maid
they have won, lo! at a word the pleasant palaces and gardens vanish
into air, and she is left all ashamed and deserted, and scorned by
gods and men. Ah, sister, be warned by those who wish thee well, and
flee from thy vile lot ere all is lost. Even yesterday, when we left
thee, we saw a monstrous shape that glided after us through the wood,
and we fled in terror, knowing it was thy lord, who would not have us
near thee. Come with us now, and be saved."
When Psyche heard their words she was very troubled. Truly, 'twas
strange that her lord should be loath for her to see her sisters,
unless, indeed, it was even as they said, and she was the prey of some
terrible beast. Yet his kind and loving words and his tender thought
for her welfare and all the beauty that surrounded her gave the lie to
such a thought.
"My dear sisters," she cried, "I thank you for your loving fears for
me, but it cannot be as you say. Though I have never looked upon my
lord, these fair halls and gardens do but mirror forth the beauty of
his soul, and I know that he is true."
"Then why doth he hide his face? At least, if thou wilt not flee with
us now, do but put him to the test when he comes this night. A glimpse
at his form will tell thee that our tale is true; and if by some
strange chance it be not so, what harm can one glance do?"
Thus they tempted her, and made her doubt her lord, though sore
against her will. So it often happens that the pure of heart are
tortured by the doubts which the wicked plant in their breasts. As
little does a young bird in the greenwood suspect the hunter's snare
as did Psyche in her loving innocence suspect the malicious envy of
her sisters.
But they were filled with joy at the success of their plot, and when
Zephyr had borne them to the top of the cliff they could contain their
gladness no longer, but fell upon each other's necks and kissed and
danced for glee.
But Psyche at their bidding made ready to look upon her lord that
night. Under a chair she placed a lighted lamp in readiness, and
shrouded it about, that the light might not shine into the room and
betray her purpose. Trembling she went to bed that night, for she
hated the deed she must do. At the usual hour her lord came and spoke
lovingly to her, and kissed her, but her words died away upon her
lips, and she shuddered at his embrace. In time he fell asleep, and
his breathing was gentle and even as that of a child sweetly dreaming
in its innocence of heart. Then she rose up silently in the dead of
night, and walking softly to the chair, she took the lamp from
beneath and turned on tiptoe to the bed. High above her head she held
the light, that the rays might fall more gently on him as he slept,
and with bated breath she drew near and looked on him. As she looked,
the blood rushed headlong through her veins, and her heart beat fast
within her, and her limbs seemed turned to water as she bent forward
to look more closely. For on the bed, wrapped in deep slumber, lay no
terrible monster, as she feared, but the youngest and fairest of the
Immortals--Eros, the great god of Love. The gleam of his golden locks
was as sunshine on the summer sea, and his limbs like the eddying
foam. From his shoulders sprang two mighty wings bright as the
rainbow, and by his side lay his quiver and darts. As he moved
restlessly in the light of the lamp she heard her name upon his lips.
With a low cry she fell on her knees beside him, and as she did so her
arm grazed the point of an arrow placed heedlessly in the sheath. The
poison ran like liquid fire through her veins, and set her heart
aflame, and with blazing cheeks she bent over and kissed him on the
lips. As she did so the lamp trembled in her hand, and a drop of the
burning oil fell upon his shoulder, and he started up and found her
bending over him.
"Ah, wretched, wretched Psyche!" he cried; "what hast thou done?
Couldst thou not trust me, who gave thee all the happiness thou hast
ever known?"
"My lord, my lord, forgive me! I would but prove to my sisters by mine
own eyes' witness that thou wert not the monster that they dreaded."
"Thrice foolish maid! Knowest thou not that doubt driveth away love?
Did I not tell thee that thy first look would be thy last? From a
terrible fate I saved thee when Aphrodite bade me strike thee with my
shaft and make thee love some terrible beast. When I went forth to do
her bidding thy grace and beauty conquered me, and I took thee away to
be my bride; and in time, hadst thou proved worthy, my mother and all
the great gods that rule above would have forgiven me, and shed on
thee the gift of immortality, to live with me for ever in the courts
of heaven. But now all is lost, and I must leave thee."
[Illustration: "On the bed, wrapped in slumber, lay the youngest and
fairest of the Immortals."]
"Ah, my lord, great is my sin, but I love thee, and my soul is thine.
Over the whole wide world would I wander, or be slave to the meanest
of men, so be it I could find thee again. Ah, dearest lord! tell me
not that all hope is gone."
One moment he was silent, as though doubting her. Then he answered,
"One way there lieth before thee, if thy courage prove greater than
thy faith--one only way, by which thou canst reach me--the long rough
path of trial and sorrow. Heaven and earth shall turn against thee;
for men win not immortality for a sigh. Yet will I help thee all I
may. In thine own strength alone thou wouldst faint and die by the
way, but for every step thou takest I will give thee strength for two.
And now farewell! I can tell thee no more, neither linger beside thee.
Fare thee well, fare thee well."
As he vanished from her eyes Psyche fell senseless on the floor, and
for many a long hour she lay there, hearing and seeing nothing, as
though life itself had fled.
VI
Meanwhile the two sisters were waiting in a frenzy of impatience to
know whether success had crowned their evil plot. If the doubt they
had planted in Psyche's breast had borne fruit, and she had dared to
disobey her lord, they knew full well that all her happiness would
have vanished like a dream. Yet, fearing the anger of him whom the
winds of heaven obeyed, they dared not trust themselves to Zephyr, who
had carried them down before. So they wandered restlessly from room to
room, and peered from the windows, hoping that Psyche in her misery
would come to them and beg for succour in her evil plight. There was
nothing they would have loved better than to spurn her from their
doors and taunt her on the retribution which had fallen on her vanity.
But all day long they waited, and yet she came not, so that at length
they parted and went each one to her couch.
But the night was hot and sultry, and the eldest sister lay on her bed
and tossed restlessly from side to side, and could not sleep. At
length she went to the casement and drew aside the curtain and looked
out on the starry night, and when she had cooled her burning brow she
went back to her couch. Just as she was about to fall asleep she felt
a shadow pass between her and the light from the window, and she
opened her eyes, and her heart beat fast; for straight in the path of
the moonbeams stood Eros, the great god of Love, and his wings stood
out black against the starlit sky as he leant on his golden bow.
Though his face was dark in the shadow, his eyes seemed to pierce
through to her heart as she lay still and trembling with fear. But he
spoke softly to her with false, honeyed words.
"Lady, thy sister Psyche, whom I chose out from the daughters of men,
hath proved false and untrue, and lo! now I turn my love to thee. Come
thou in her stead and be mistress in my palace halls, and I will give
thee immortality. Lo! even now Zephyr awaits thee on the mountain-top
to bear thee away to my home."
So saying, he faded from her sight. Her wicked heart was filled with
joy when she heard of Psyche's fall, and she rose up in the dead of
night and put on her gayest robe and brightest gems. Without so much
as a look on the prince her husband she went out to the mountain-top.
There she stood alone, and called softly to Zephyr,
"O Zephyr, O Zephyr, O fair west wind, waft me, oh waft me away to my
love!"
Without waiting she threw herself boldly down. But the air gave way
beneath her, and with a terrible cry she fell faster and faster, down,
down, to the gulf below, and was dashed to pieces on the rocks; and
from the four quarters of heaven the vultures gathered and fed upon
her flesh.
As for the second sister, to her, too, the god appeared and spoke
false honeyed words, and she too went forth alone; and in the morning
her bones lay gleaming white beside her sister's on the rocks below.
VII