Psyche was often very lonely, but yet she had much: she had the
flowers, the birds; she had the butterflies, which thought that she
was a bigger sister; she had the lizards, with which she played,
and which, like little things of emerald, she held against her veil;
she had the swans in the deep castle moats, which followed her when
she walked on the ramparts; she had the clouds, which came floating
from distant islands and paradises beyond; she had the wind, which
sang her ballads; the rain, which fell down wet upon her and covered
her wings with pearls. She would gladly have played with the pages in
the halls, have laughed with the shield-bearers in the armoury, have
listened to the martial tales of the bearded halberdiers at the gates,
but she was a princess and knew she could not do that, and she always
walked past them with great dignity, maidenly modest in her fine, thin
veil, which left her tender limbs half exposed. That was the noble
Nakedness, which was her privilege as a princess, a privilege given
her at her cradle, together with her wings by the Fairy of Births,
as to Emeralda was given the Jewel and to Astra the Star. For never
might Psyche wear Jewel or Star, and never might Emeralda or Astra go
naked. Each princess had her own privilege, her birthright. Adorable
was Psyche as, unconscious of her maidenly, tender purity, she was seen
with her crimson glittering wings, naked in the folds of her veil,
walking past the armour-bearers and soldiers, who presented their
swords or halberds as the princess, nymph-white, stepped past them.
Psyche was often very lonely, for her nurse was old and mumbled
over her spinning-wheel; playmates Psyche had not, because she was
a princess, and she would not get court-ladies till she was older
and more dignified. But with the birds and the clouds and the wind
Psyche could speak and laugh, and she was seldom dull, although she
sometimes wished she were no longer Princess of Nakedness with the
wings, but one of those very ordinary peasant-girls whom she had
seen milking the cows, or plucking the thick bunches of grapes in
the vineyard at harvest-time, whilst the pressers, handsome brown
lads with sturdy arms, encircled the girls and danced.
But Psyche wandered along the ramparts; she looked at the clouds
and spoke with the wind, and she asked the wind to give flight to
her wings, so that she could fly far off to the opal landscapes that
kept shifting and changing. But the wind rushed away with a flapping
noise of wings that Psyche envied, and her own wings flapped a little,
but in vain.
Psyche looked at the clouds. They floated along so stately in all
kinds of forms--in the forms of sheep, swans, horses--and the form
never remained: the seeming forms, thick-white in the blue ether,
were constantly changing. Now she saw three swans which were drawing
a boat, in which stood three women, who guided the swans; then she
saw the women become a tower, the swans a dragon; and from far,
far away came a knight, sitting on a winged horse. But now slowly
the scene changed into a flock of little silver-fleeced, downy sheep,
which were browsing far off in the sunshine as in a golden meadow. The
knight disappeared, but the horse glided nearer and flew on his wings,
high over the castle, towards the sheep.
Then Psyche dreamed at night of the swans, the tower, the dragon,
the knight, the horse; but the horse she liked best, because it had
strong wings. And next morning she gazed from the battlements to see
if the horse would come again.
But then the sky was either gloomy from the rain or blue from the
absence of clouds, or covered with white peacock's feathers, splendid
plumes, but motionless, far, far away in the air. The wind changed,
when she said: "Away! blow now from the East again! Begone, North
wind, with your dark perils, begone! Begone, West wind, with your
rain-urns! Begone, South wind, with your peacock's feathers! Come
now, wind from the East, with your treasures of luxurious visions,
ye dragons, ye horses, ye girls with swans!..." Then the clouds began
to shift, the winds to blow, and play an opera high up in the air,
and Psyche, enchanted, sat and gazed.
Then after weeks, after she had missed it for weeks, came again the
winged horse.
And she beckoned to it to approach, to descend to her; but it flew past
over the castle. Then she missed it again for many days, and, angry,
she looked at the sky and scolded the wind. But then the horse came
again, and, laughing, she beckoned to it. The horse ascended high,
its wings expanded in the air, and oh, wonder! it beckoned to her
to come up, up to it. She gave a sign that she could not, shook her
little shoulders helplessly, and, trembling, flapped her wings and
spread her arms wide out to say that she could not. And the horse
sped away on the breath of the wind from the East.
Then Psyche wept, and, sad at heart, sat looking at the far, far-off
landscapes which she would never reach.
But weeks afterwards the treasure-bringing wind blew again, and again
appeared the horse in the horizon, and it flew near and beckoned to
Psyche, her heart heavy with hope and fear.... The horse mounted up;
it beckoned to her.... She gave a sign that she could not; and oh! she
feared that it would speed away again, the horse with the strong wings.
No ... no ... the horse descended! Then Psyche uttered a joyful cry,
sprang up, danced with delight and clapped her little hands. From the
lofty, lofty sky the horse came down, gliding on its broad wings. It
came down.
And Psyche, the little, joyful, excited Psyche, saw it coming, coming
down to her. It descended--it approached. Oh, what a beautiful horse
it was! Greater than the greatest horses, and then with wings! Fair it
was, fair as the sun, with a long curly mane and long flowing tail,
like a streamer of sunny gold. The noble head on its arched neck
proudly raised and its eyes shone like fire, and a stream of breath
came from its expanded nostrils, cloud after cloud. Big, powerful,
muscular, its wings were stretched out like silvery quills, as
Psyche had never seen in a bird before. And its golden hoofs struck
the clouds and made them thunder; and sparks of fire shot forth in
the pure, clear daylight. Enraptured Psyche had never seen such a
beautiful horse before, never a bird so beautiful; and breathless,
with her head raised, she waited till it should descend, descend on the
terrace.... At last there it stood before her. Its nostrils steamed,
and its hoofs struck sparks from the basalt rock, and it waved its
mane and switched its tail.
"Splendid, beautiful horse," said Psyche, "who are you?"
"I am the Chimera," answered the horse, and his voice sounded deep
as the clang of a brazen clock.
"Can you really speak?" asked Psyche, astonished. "And fly? Oh,
how happy you must be!!"
"Why have you called me, little princess?" said the Chimera.
"I wanted to see you quite near," replied Psyche. "I only saw you dart
like winged lightning through the air, so soon were you away again;
and I was always sorry when I could not see you any more. Then I
became, oh, so sad!"
"And why did you want to see me quite near, little princess with
the wings?"
"I find you so beautiful. I have never seen anything so beautiful;
I did not know that anything so beautiful existed. What are you? A
horse you are not. Nor a dragon either, nor a man. What are you?"
"I am the Chimera."
"Where do you come from?"
"From far away. From the lands which are beyond the lands, from the
worlds beyond the worlds, from the heavens beyond the heavens."
"Where are you going?"
"Very far. Do you see those distant regions yonder, of silver
and opal? Well, thousands of times so far I am going.... I go from
illimitableness to illimitableness; I come from nothingness and I am
going to nothingness."
"What is nothingness?"
"Everything. Nothingness is as far as your brains can think, my little
princess; and then still farther, and nothingness is more than all
that you see from this high tower...."
"Are you never tired?"
"No, my wings are strong; I can bear all mankind on my back, and I
could carry them away to the stars behind the stars."
"If Astra knew that!"
"Astra knows it. But she does not want me. She reckons out the stars
with figures."
"Why do you fly from one end to the other, O splendid Chimera? What
is your object? What are you for?"
"What is your own object, little Psyche? What are you yourself for? For
what are flowers, men, the stars? Who knows?"
"Astra...."
"No, Astra knows nothing. Her knowledge is founded on a fundamental
error. All her knowledge is like a tower, which will fall down."
"I should like to know much. I should like to know more. I should
like to seek far through the universe. I long for what is most
beautiful.... But I do not know what it is. Perhaps you yourself are
what is most beautiful, Chimera.... But why are you now spreading
out your wings?"
"I must go."
"So soon? Whence? Oh, why are you going so soon, splendid Chimera?"
"I must. I must traverse illimitableness. I have already stayed here
too long."
"Stay a little longer...."
"I cannot. I may not."
"Who compels you, O powerful horse, quick as lightning?..."
"Power."
"What is power?"
"God...."
"Who is God? Oh, tell me more! Tell me more! Don't go away yet! I want
to ask you so much, to hear so much. I am so stupid. I have longed
so for you. Now you have come, and now you want to go away again."
"Do not ask me for wisdom; I have none. Ask the Sphinx for wisdom;
ask me for flight."
"Oh, stay a little longer! Don't flap so with your flaming wings! Who
is the Sphinx? O Chimera, do not give me wisdom, but flight!"
"Not now...."
"When, then?"
"Later...."
"When is that?"
"Farewell."
"O Chimera, Chimera...!"
The horse had already spread out his wings broad. He was ascending. But
Psyche suddenly threw both her arms round his neck and hung on to
his mane.
"Let me go, little princess!" cried the horse. "I ascend quickly,
and you will fall, to be dashed to pieces on the rock! Loose me!"
And slowly he ascended....
Psyche was afraid; she let go her arms; she became dizzy, fell against
the pinnacle, and bruised one of her wings. That pained her ... but
she heeded it not; the horse was already high in the air, and she
followed his track with her eyes....
"He is gone," thought she. "Will he come again? Or have I seen him
for the first and last time?"
"As a dream he came from far-off regions, and to still farther
regions he has gone.... Oh, how dull the world seems! How dead is
the horizon! And how dizzy I feel.... My wing pains me...."
With her hand she smoothed the wrinkle out of her wing; she stroked
it till it was smooth again, and tears ran down her cheeks.
"Horrid wings! They cannot fly, they cannot follow the strong
Chimera! I'm in such trouble, such trouble!! But ... no.... Is that
trouble? Is that happiness? I know not.... I am very happy...! I am
so sorrowful.... How beautiful he was! how strong, how sleek, how
splendid, how quick, how wise, how noble, how broad his wings! how
broad his wings!! How weak I am compared to him.... A child, a weak
child; a weak, naked child with little wings.... O Chimera, my Chimera,
O Chimera of my desire, come back! Come back!! Come back!! I cannot
live without you; and if you do not come again, Chimera, then I will
not live any longer lonely in this high castle. I will throw myself
into the cataract...."
She stood up, her eyes looking eagerly into the empty air. She
pressed her hands to her bosom, she wept, and her wings trembled as
if from fever.
Then suddenly she saw the king, her father, sitting at the bow-window
of his room. He did not see her, he was reading a scroll. But anxious
lest he should see her trouble, her despair, and longing desire,
she fled, along the battlements, the ramparts, through the passages
and halls of the castle, till she came to the tower, where her nurse
sat at her spinning-wheel, and then she fell down at the feet of the
old woman and sobbed aloud.
"What is it, darling?" asked the old crone, frightened. "Princess,
what is it?"
"I have hurt my wing!" sobbed Psyche.
And she showed the nurse the wrinkle in her wing, which was not yet
quite gone.
Then, with soothing voice and wrinkled hand, the old nurse slowly
stroked the painful wing till it became smooth.