But there the youngest of the gods lay
sleeping,--most beautiful, most irresistible of all
immortals. His hair shone golden as the sun, his
face was radiant as dear Springtime, and from
his shoulders sprang two rainbow wings.
Poor Psyche was overcome with self-reproach.
As she leaned towards him, filled with worship,
her trembling hands held the lamp ill, and some
burning oil fell upon Love's shoulder and awakened him.
He opened his eyes, to see at once his bride and
the dark suspicion in her heart.
``O doubting Psyche!'' he exclaimed with
sudden grief,--and then he flew away, out of the
window.
Wild with sorrow, Psyche tried to follow, but
she fell to the ground instead. When she recovered
her senses, she stared about her. She was
alone, and the place was beautiful no longer.
Garden and palace had vanished with Love.
THE TRIAL OF PSYCHE:
Over mountains and valleys Psyche journeyed
alone until she came to the city where her two
envious sisters lived with the princes whom they
had married. She stayed with them only long
enough to tell the story of her unbelief and its
penalty. Then she set out again to search for
Love.
As she wandered one day, travel-worn but not
hopeless, she saw a lofty palace on a hill near by,
and she turned her steps thither. The place
seemed deserted. Within the hall she saw no
human being,--only heaps of grain, loose ears of
corn half torn from the husk, wheat and barley,
alike scattered in confusion on the floor.
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