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diff --git a/38005.txt b/38005.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b1406d8 --- /dev/null +++ b/38005.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4961 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Psyche, by Louis Couperus + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Psyche + +Author: Louis Couperus + +Illustrator: Dion Clayton Calthrop + +Translator: B. S. Berrington + +Release Date: November 13, 2011 [EBook #38005] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PSYCHE *** + + + + +Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net/ for Project +Gutenberg (This file was produced from images generously +made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + + + + PSYCHE + + By + + LOUIS COUPERUS + + Translated from the Dutch, + with the author's permission, + + By + + B. S. Berrington, B.A. + + With Twelve Illustrations by Dion Clayton Calthrop + + + + London: Alston Rivers, Ltd. + Brooke Street, Holborn Bars, E.C. + 1908 + + + + + + + + "Cry no more now and go to sleep, and if you cannot sleep, + I will tell you a story, a pretty story of flowers and + gems and birds, of a young prince and a little princess. + ... For in the world there is nothing more than a story." + + + + + + + +PSYCHE + +CHAPTER I + + +Gigantically massive, with three hundred towers, on the summit of a +rocky mountain, rose the king's castle high into the clouds. + +But the summit was broad, and flat as a plateau, and the castle spread +far out, for miles and miles, with ramparts and walls and pinnacles. + +And everywhere rose up the towers, lost in the clouds, and the castle +was like a city, built upon a lofty rock of basalt. + +Round the castle and far away lay the valleys of the kingdom, receding +into the horizon, one after the other, and ever and ever. + +Ever changing was the horizon: now pink, then silver; now blue, then +golden; now grey, then white and misty, and gradually fading away, +and never could the last be seen. + +In clear weather there loomed behind the horizon always another +horizon. They circled one another endlessly, they were lost in the +dissolving mists, and suddenly their silhouette became more sharply +defined. + +Over the lofty towers stretched away at times an expanse of variegated +clouds, but below rushed a torrent, which fell like a cataract into +a fathomless abyss, that made one dizzy to look at. + +So it seemed as if the castle rose up to the highest stars and went +down to the central nave of the earth. + +Along the battlements, higher than a man, Psyche often wandered, +wandered round the castle from tower to tower, from wall to wall, +with a dreamy smile on her face, then she looked up and stretched out +her hands to the stars, or gazed below at the dashing water, with +all the colours of the rainbow, till her head grew dizzy, and she +drew back and placed her little hands before her eyes. And long she +would sit in the corner of an embrasure, her eyes looking far away, +a smile on her face, her knees drawn up and her arms entwining them, +and her tiny wings spread out against the mossy stone-work, like a +butterfly that sat motionless. + +And she gazed at the horizon, and however much she gazed, she always +saw more. + +Close by were the green valleys, dotted with grazing sheep, soft +meadows with fat cattle, waving corn-fields, canals covered with ships, +and the cottage roofs of a village. Farther away were lines of woods, +hill-tops, mountain-ridges, or a mass of angular, rough-hewn basalt. + +Still farther off, misty towers with minarets and domes, cupolas and +spires, smoking chimneys, and the outline of a broad river. Beyond, +the horizon became milk-white, or like an opal, but not a line more +was there, only tint, the reflection of the last glow of the sun, +as if lakes were mirrored there; islands rose, low, in the air, +aerial paradises, watery streaks of blue sea, oceans of ether and +light quivering nothingness!... + +And Psyche gazed and mused.... She was the third princess, the +youngest daughter of the old king, monarch of the Kingdom of the +Past.... She was always very lonely. Her sisters she seldom saw, +her father only for a moment in the evening, before she went to bed; +and when she had the chance she fled from the mumbling old nurse, and +wandered along the battlements and dreamed, with her eyes far away, +gazing at the vast kingdom, beyond which was nothingness.... + +Oh, how she longed to go farther than the castle, to the meadows, +the woods, the towns--to go to the shining lakes, the opal islands, +the oceans of ether, and then to that far, far-off nothingness, that +quivered so, like a pale, pale light!... Would she ever be able to pass +out of the gates?--Oh, how she longed to wander, to seek, to fly!... To +fly, oh! to fly, to fly as the sparrows, the doves, the eagles! + +And she flapped her weak, little wings. + +On her tender shoulders there were two wings, like those of a very +large butterfly, transparent membranes, covered with crimson and soft, +yellow dust, streaked with azure and pink, where they were joined to +her back. And on each wing glowed two eyes, like those on a peacock's +tail, but more beautiful in colour and glistening like jewels, fine +sapphires and emeralds on velvet, and the velvet eye set four times +in the glittering texture of the wings. + +Her wings she flapped, but with them she could not fly. + +That, that was her great grief--that, that made her think, what were +they for, those wings on her shoulders? And she shook them and flapped +them, but could not rise above the ground; her delicate form did not +ascend into the air, her naked foot remained firm on the ground, and +only her thin, fine veil, that trailed a little round her snow-white +limbs, was slightly raised by the gentle fluttering of her wings. + + + + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +To fly! oh, to fly! + +She was so fond of birds. How she envied them! She enticed them with +crumbs of bread, with grains of corn, and once she had rescued a dove +from an eagle. The dove she had hidden under her veil, pressed close +to her bosom, and the eagle she had courageously driven off with her +hand, when in his flight he overshadowed her with his broad wings, +calling out to him to go away and leave her dove unhurt. + +Oh, to seek! to seek! + +For she was so fond of flowers, and gladly in the woods and meadows, +or farther away still, would she have sought for those that were +unknown. But she cultivated them within the walls, on the rocky ground, +and she had made herself a garden; the buds opened when she looked +at them, the stems grew when she stroked them, and when she kissed +a faded flower it became as fresh again as ever. + + + +To wander, oh, to wander! + +Then she wandered along the battlements, down the steps, over the +court-yards and the ramparts, but at the gates stood the guards, +rough and bearded and clad in mail, with loud-sounding horns round +their shoulders. + +Then she could go no farther and wandered back into the vaults +and crypts, where sacred spiders wove their webs; and then, if she +became frightened, she hurried away, farther, farther, farther, along +endless galleries, between rows of motionless knights in armour, +till she came again to her nurse, who sat ever at her spinning-wheel. + +Oh! to glide through the air! + +To glide in a steady wind, to the farthest horizon, to the milk-white +and opal region, which she saw in her dreams, to the uttermost parts +of the earth! + +To glide to the seas, and the islands, which yonder, so far, far +away and so unsubstantial, changed every moment, as if a breeze +could alter their form, their tint; so unfirm, that no foot could +tread them, but only a winged being like herself, a bird, a fairy, +could gently hover over them, to see all that beautiful landscape, +to enjoy that atmosphere, that dream of Paradise.... + +Oh! to fly, to seek, to wander, to soar!... + +And for hours together she sat dreaming in an embrasure, her eyes +far off, her arms round her knees, and her wings spread out, like a +little butterfly that sat motionless. + + + + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Emeralda, that was the name of her eldest sister. Surpassingly +beautiful was Emeralda, dazzling fair as no woman in the kingdom, no +princess in other kingdoms. Exceedingly tall she was, and majestic in +stature; erect she walked, stately and proudly; she was very proud, +for after the death of the king she was to reign on the throne of the +Kingdom of the Past. Jealous of all the power which would be hers, +she rejected all the princes who sued for her hand. She never spoke +but to command, and only to her father did she bow. She always wore +heavy brocade, silver or gold, studded with jewels, and long mantles +of rustling silk, fringed with broad ermine; a diadem of the finest +jewels always glittered on her red golden hair and her eyes also were +jewels; two magnificent green emeralds, in which a black carbuncle +was the pupil; and people whispered secretly that her heart was cut +out of one single, gigantic ruby. + +Oh, Psyche was so afraid of her! + +When Psyche wandered through the castle and suddenly saw +Emeralda coming, preceded by pages, torches, shield-bearers, and +maids-in-waiting, who bore her train, and a score of halberdiers, +then she was struck with fear, and hastily concealed herself behind a +door, a curtain, no matter where, and then Emeralda rustled by with a +great noise of satin and gold and all the trampling of her retinue, and +Psyche's heart beat loudly like a clock, tick! tick! tick! tick! till +she thought she would faint.... + +Then she shut her eyes so as not to see the cold, proud look of +Emeralda's green emeralds, which pierced through the curtains, and +saw Psyche well enough, though she pretended not to see her. And +when Emeralda was gone, then Psyche fled upstairs, high up on to the +battlements, fetched a deep breath, pressed her hands to her bosom, +and long afterwards her little wings trembled from fear. + +Astra, that was the name of the second princess. She wore a living +star upon her head; she was very wise and learned; she knew much more +than all the philosophers and learned men in the kingdom, who came +to her for counsel. + +She lived in the highest tower of the castle, and sometimes, along +the bars of her window, she saw clouds pass by, like spirits of +the mist. She never left the tower. She sat, surrounded by rolls of +parchment, gigantic globes, which she turned with a pressure of her +finger; and after hours of contemplation she described, with great +compasses, on a slab of black marble, circle after circle, or reckoned +out long sums, with numbers so great that no one could pronounce them. + +Sometimes she sat surrounded by the sages of the land, and the king +himself came and listened to his daughter, as in a low, firm voice +she explained things. But because she possessed all the wisdom of +the earth, she despised all the world, and she had had constructed on +the terrace of her tower a telescope, miles long, through which she +could look to every part of the illimitable firmament. And when the +sages were gone, and she was alone, then she went on to the terrace +and peered through the giant, which she turned to all the points of +the compass. Through the diamond lenses, cut without facets, she saw +new stars, unknown to men, and gave them names. + +Through the diamond lenses she saw sun systems, spirals of fire, +shrivel up through the illimitableness of the universe.... But she +kept gazing, for behind those sun systems, she knew, were other +spheres, other heavens, and there farther still, illimitably far, +was the Mystic Rose, which she could never see.... + +Sometimes, when Psyche wandered round the castle, she knocked +nervously, inquisitively at Astra's door, who graciously allowed her to +enter. When Astra stood before the board and reckoned out long sums, +Psyche looked very earnestly at her sister's star, which glistened +on her head, in her coal-black hair. Or she went on to the terrace +and peeped through the telescope, but she saw nothing but very bright +light, which made her eyes ache.... + + + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +In the evening, before she went to sleep, Psyche sought the king. + +A good hundred years old he was, his beard hung down to his girdle, +and generally he sat reading the historical scrolls of the kingdom, +which his ministers brought him every day. + +But in the evening Psyche climbed on to his knees and nestled in +his beard, or sat at his feet in the folds of his tabard, and the +scroll fell to the ground, and crumpled up, and the withered hand of +the mighty monarch stroked the head of his third child, the princess +with the little wings. + +"Father, dear," asked Psyche once; "why have I wings, and cannot fly?" + +"You need not fly, child; you are much safer with me than if you were +a little bird in the air." + +"But why then have I wings?" + +"I don't quite know, my child...." + +"Why have I wings, and Astra a living star upon her head, and Emeralda +eyes of jewels?" + +"Because you are princesses; they are different from other girls." + +"And why, dear father," whispered Psyche, secretly, "has Emeralda a +heart of ruby?..." + +"No child, that she has not. She has, it is true, eyes of emerald, +because she is a princess--as Astra has a star and you two pretty +wings--but she has a human heart." + +"No, father, dear, she has a heart of stone." + +"But who says so, my child?" + +"The nurse does, father, her own pages, the guards at the gates, +and the wise men who come to Astra." + +The king was very sad. He and his daughter looked deep into each +other's eyes, and embraced each other, for the king was sad, on +account of what he saw in the future, and Psyche was frightened: +she always trembled when she thought of Emeralda. + +"Little Psyche," said her old father, "will you now promise me +something?" + +"Yes, father, dear." + +"Will you always stay with me, little Psyche? You are safe here, +are you not? and the world is so great, the world is so wicked. The +world is full of temptation and mystery. Winged horses soar through +the air; gigantic sphinxes lurk in the deserts; devilish fauns roam +through the forests.... In the world, tears are shed, which form +brooks, and in the world people give away their noblest right for the +lowest pleasure.... Stay with me, Psyche, never wander too far away, +for under our castle glows the Nether-world!... And life is like a +princess, a cruel princess with a heart of stone...." + +Of precious stone, like Emeralda, thought Psyche to herself. Who rides +in triumph with her victorious chariot over the tenderest and dearest, +and presses them stone-dead into the deepest furrows of the earth.... + +"Oh, Psyche, little Psyche, promise me always to stay here in this +high and safe castle: always to stay with your father!" + +She did not understand him. + +His eyes, very large and animated, looked over her into space, with +inexpressible sadness. Then she longed to console him, and threw her +white arms round his neck; she hid herself, as it were, in his beard, +and she whispered playfully: + +"I will always stay with you, father dear...." + +Then he pressed her to his heart, and thought that he would soon +die.... + + + + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +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. + + + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +The old king, assisted by pages, sat down slowly on his throne; +his ministers and courtiers gathered round him. Then there was a +great rustling of satin and gold, and in came Emeralda, the Princess +Royal, the Princess of the Jewel, as her title ran: first pages, +life-guards, and then she herself, glittering with splendour, in +her dress of silver-coloured silk; her bosom blazed with emeralds, +a tiara of emeralds adorned her temples; her red-golden tresses, +intertwined with emeralds, fell in three-fold plaits down each side +of her face, from which the eyes of emerald looked proud, soulless, +ice-cold, and arrogant. Court-ladies bore her train. A great retinue of +halberdiers surrounded her jewelled majesty, and as she passed along, +the trembling courtiers bowed lower to her than they did to the king, +because they were in deadly fear of her. + +Astra, with dragging step, followed her. She wore a dress of azure +covered with stars, a white mantle full of stars, and her living star +sparkled in her coal-black hair. + +The sages of the country surrounded her: grey-haired men in +velvet tabards, with very long silver beards, dim eyes, and wise, +close-pressed lips. + +The two princesses sat down on either side of the throne. + +And for a moment the middle space of the hall between the waiting +crowd remained empty. But then appeared Psyche, the third daughter, +the Princess of Nakedness with the wings! Shyly she approached, looking +right and left, with the laugh of a child. She was naked: only a golden +veil was tied in a fold round her hips. Her wings were spread out +like a butterfly's. She had no retinue: only her old nurse followed +her; and she was so pretty and charming that people forgot to bow as +she passed along, that the courtiers smiled and whispered, full of +admiration, because she was so beautiful in her pure chastity. Slowly +she walked along, shy and laughing a little; then close to the throne, +where her father saw her approaching hesitatingly, her bare foot got +entangled in her trailing golden veil, and to ascend the steps she +lifted it up, knelt down, and kissed the king's hand. + +Then calmly she sat down on a cushion at his feet, and was no longer +shy. She looked round inquisitively and nodded a greeting here and +there, child as she was, till all at once, to the right of the throne, +she met the emerald look of Emeralda, and started and shivered; +a cold thrill shot through her limbs, and she hid herself in the +ermine of her father's mantle to be safe and warm. + +Then there was a flourish of trumpets, and at the door of the Hall +heralds announced Prince Eros, the youthful monarch of the Present. He +came in all alone. He was as beautiful as a god, with light-brown +hair and light-brown eyes. He wore a white suit of armour over a +silver shirt of mail, and his whole presence portrayed simplicity +and intelligence. + +The courtiers were astonished at his coming without a suite; Emeralda +laughed scornfully aside with one of her court-ladies. She did not +find him a king, that plain youth in his plain dress. But Eros had +now approached and bowed low before the mighty monarch, and the latter +bade him welcome with fatherly condescension. + +Then spoke the prince: + +"Mighty Majesty of the Past, accept my respectful thanks for your +welcome. Diffident I come to your throne, for I am young in years, +have little wisdom, little power. You reign over an extensive kingdom, +the horizon of which is lost in illimitableness. I reign over a +country that is not larger than a garden. From my humble palace, +that is like a country-house, I can survey all my territory. Your +Majesty possesses lands and deserts, which you do not know. I know +every flower in my beds. And that your Majesty, in spite of my poverty +and insignificance, receives me with much honour and acknowledges me +as sovereign in my kingdom, fills my heart with joy. Will your Majesty +permit me to kneel and pay my homage to you as an obedient vassal?" + +Then the old king nodded to Psyche, and the princess rose, because +Eros was about to kneel. + +Then said the king: "Amiable Eros, I love you as a son. Tell me, +have you any wish that I can satisfy? If so, then it is granted you." + +Then said Eros: "Your Majesty makes my heart rejoice by saying that you +love me as a son. Well, then, my greatest joy would be to marry one +of the noble princesses, who are your Majesty's daughters. But I am +a poor prince, and whilst confessing to your Majesty my bold desire, +I fear that you may think me too arrogant in presuming to cherish a +wish that aims so high...." + +"Noble prince," said the king, "you are poor, but of high birth and +divine origin, higher and more divine than we. You are descended from +the god Eros; we from his beloved Psyche. The history of the gods is +to be read in the historical rolls of our kingdom. It would make my +heart rejoice if you found a spouse in one of my princesses. But they +are free in their choice, and you will have to win their love. Permit +me, therefore, first of all to present to you my eldest daughter, +the Princess Royal, Princess of the Jewel: Emeralda...." + +Emeralda rose, and bowed with a scornful sneer. + +"And," continued the monarch, "in the second place, to my wise Astra, +Princess of the Star...." + +Astra rose and bowed, her look far away, as if lost in contemplation. + +"And would Emeralda permit me to sue for her love and her hand?" asked +the prince. + +"Majesty of the Present," replied Emeralda, "my father says that you +are of more divine origin than we. I, your humble slave, consider +it therefore too great an honour that you should be willing to +raise me to your side upon your throne. And I accept your homage, +but on one condition. That condition is: That you seek for me the +All-Sacred Jewel, Jewel of Mystery, the name of which may not be +uttered, the noble stone of Supremacy. The legends respecting this +jewel are innumerable, inexplicable and contradictory. But the Jewel +exists. Tell me, ye wise men of the land--tell me, Astra, my sister, +does the Jewel exist?" + +"It exists!" said Astra. + +"It exists!" said all the wise men after her. + +"It exists!" repeated Emeralda. "Prince, I dare ask much of you, but I +ask you the greatest thing that our soul and ambition can think of. If +you find me beautiful and love me, then seek, and bring me the Jewel, +and I will be your wife, and together we shall be the most powerful +monarchs in the world." + +The prince bowed, and with imperceptible irony said: + +"Royal Highness of the Jewel, your words breathe the splendour of +yourself, and I will weigh them in my mind. Your beauty is dazzling, +and to reign with you over the united kingdoms of the Past and the +Present, appears to me indeed a divine happiness...." + +"For other kingdoms exist not," added Astra, and the wise men repeated +her words. + +"Yes," murmured the king. "There is another kingdom...." + +"What kingdom?" asked all. + +"The kingdom of the Future," said the king, in a low tone. + +Emeralda laughed scornfully. Astra looked compassionately. The wise +men glanced at each other; the courtiers shook their heads. + +"The king is getting old," they whispered. "The mind of His Majesty +often wanders," muttered the ministers. + +"Our monarch has always had much imagination," said the wise men. "He +is a poet...." + +But then spoke the prince. + +"And you, wise Astra, Royal Highness of the Star, will you, like +Emeralda, allow me to sue for your hand and heart?" + +"Most willingly, Prince Eros!" said Astra, with a far-off look and +in a vague tone. "But I have conditions to make as well as Emeralda, +the Princess Royal. Will you hear them? Then listen. If you see any +chance of lengthening my telescope, of strengthening the lenses, that +I can see through them to the confines of the universe, to the last +sun-system, to the Mystic Rose, to the Godhead Himself, then I will +be your wife, and together we shall be the most powerful beings of the +world, because then we are omniscient. For the universe is limited...." + +"The universe is limited!" said the wise men, after her. + +"Endless is the universe!" said the king, in a subdued voice. + +The people laughed and shook their heads. "The king is getting very +old," was repeated everywhere. + +"The king will soon die," prophesied the wise men, in a low tone. "He +speaks like an old man, without reason; he will soon die...." + +"Royal Highness of the Star," said the prince, "your words, pregnant +with wisdom, I will also consider. For to be omniscient must indeed +be the greatest power. But your Majesty has a third princess," he +continued, addressing the king. "Where is she?" + +"She is here," said the king. "She is the Princess of Nakedness with +the wings. But she is still a child, Prince...." + +Psyche blushed and bowed. + +The prince looked long at her. Then he said to her, gently: "Your +Highness is called Psyche? You have the name of the ancestress of your +race, as I have the name of the god who begot mine. Is it not true?" + +"I believe so," murmured Psyche, embarrassed. + +"She is still a child, prince--forgive her!" repeated the king. + +"Will your Majesty not permit me to ask for the hand and heart of +your third daughter, the princess?" + +"Certainly, prince; but she is still so young.... If she leaves me I +shall be very sad. But if she loves you, then I will give her up to +you, for then she will be happy...." + +"Tell me, Psyche, will you be my wife?" + +Psyche blushed exceedingly. Her naked limbs blushed, her wings blushed. + +"Prince," said she hesitatingly and looked bashfully at her father, +"you do me much honour. But my sisters are more beautiful and wiser +than I. And my father would miss me if I went with you to the kingdom +of the Present." + +"But tell me, Psyche, what conditions do you impose upon me?" + +Psyche hesitated. She was about to exclaim joyfully: "Catch me the +Chimera, bind him in a meadow to graze, and give me power over him, +that I may mount his back and fly through the air as I like." + +But she durst not before the whole court and her father. And so she +only stammered: "None, prince...." + +"Could you love me?" + +"I don't know, prince...." + +Psyche was shy. She kept blushing, and all at once began to tremble +and weep. + +And she looked round to the king, fled to his arms, hid her face in +his beard and sobbed. + +"Prince Eros," said the king, "forgive her. You see she is a +child. Seek for Emeralda's Jewel, or seek for Astra the Glass which +will bring to view the confines of the universe; but leave me my +youngest child." + +Then the prince bowed. An indescribable sadness rose in his soul, +like a sea. And pale he stammered, "I obey your Majesty." + +Then the king descended from his throne and embraced the prince. And +whilst the fanfares sounded, he put his arm through the arm of Eros, +took Psyche by the hand, and conducted his guest to the banquet, +the princesses following, surrounded by the whole court. + + + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +For days had Psyche watched in vain, and all hope died out of her +heart. + +But one windy morning--the thick white clouds were speeding through +the air--she saw the desire of her heart again. Far away appeared a +cloud, but as it drew nearer it became a horse: it was the Chimera. + +She beckoned to it, and the Chimera came down. + +"What do you want, little Psyche?" + +She clasped her hands imploringly. "Take me with you...." + +"You will become dizzy...." + +"No, no...." + +He descended, stamping on the basalt rock; the terrace shook, sparks +flew up, and the steam of his breath shot out in clouds. + +"Take me with you," she implored. + +"Where do you wish to go?" + +"To the islands of opal and silver." + +"They are too far away." + +"Take me, then, nearer to them; take me with you where you will." + +"Are you not afraid?" + +"No." + +"Will you hold fast to my neck?" + +"Yes, oh yes!" + +"Come, then...." + +She uttered a cry of joy. He bent his knees, and she got up with a +beating, thumping heart. Between his flaming wings, on his broad, +broad back, she sat almost as safe as in a nest of silver feathers. + +"Trust not to my wings," he warned her; "I move them at every +stroke. They open and shut, open and shut. Hold fast on to my +neck. Clasp my mane. If you are not frightened and do not become giddy +and sick, you will not fall, however high I go. Do you dare, Psyche?" + +"Yes." + +She fastened his mane round her waist, as if it were strong rope of +golden flax. She put her arms round his neck. + +"I am ready," she said courageously. + +He ascended, very slowly, with his broad wings. Under him, under her, +the terrace sank away. + +She shut her eyes, she held her breath, and the blood left her +heart. Under her the castle sank away. + +"Stop!" she implored. "I am dying...." + +"I thought so, Psyche. You are much too weak. You cannot go up +with me...." + +She opened her eyes slightly. She sat on his back in the silver +down, where his quills clave to his light-gold loins. And round her, +circles of light revolved, one after the other, and made her dizzy. + +"Descend!" she implored. "Oh, descend! I cannot endure it. I have no +breath; I am dying." + +He descended.... He stood on the terrace. She slid along his wing to +the ground. She put her hands before her face, and when she opened +her eyes she was alone. + +Then she was very, very sad. But next day, he appeared again. And, +more courageous, she wished to mount him again. He let her do as she +desired, and she got on his back. She shut her eyes, but smiled. He +went higher and higher with her, without her saying "Descend." She +travelled for a time high up in the air, she opened her eyes and kept +smiling; she got accustomed to the rarefied air. The third time he +soared away with her; she saw, far below, the royal castle, small +as a toy, towers, ramparts; and then she realised for the first time +that she had left the castle. + +She thought of the king. + +"Take me back!" she said to the horse commandingly. + +He obeyed her. He took her back. But as soon as he was gone, she +longed again for him and the lofty air. And she had but one thought, +the Chimera. She no longer cared for the flowers which she had planted +between the walls, and the flowers withered. She no longer cared for +the swans, and the swans, neglected, followed her in vain, in the +green moats; she forgot to crumble bread for them. And she looked +at the clouds and she gazed at the wind, thinking only of him, the +light-gold horse with the silver wings, because he came on the wind, +on the clouds, which thundered when he struck with his hoofs. + +On the day that he did not come, her fair Chimera, she sat pale and +lonely, gazing from the battlements, her eyes far away, her arms round +her knees. In the evening she nestled in the king's beard, in the +folds of his tabard, but she durst not tell him that she had ridden +a wondrous winged horse and flown with him through the air. But on +the days that her beloved horse had come and taken her away with him, +carefully flapping his wings, her face shone with golden happiness in +the apotheosis of her soul, and through the gloomy halls, where sacred +spiders, which were never disturbed, wove their webs, rang Psyche's +high voice, and from the faded gobelin the low vault and the motionless +iron knights strangely re-echoed the words of her joyous song. + + + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +"Psyche, where do you wish to go?" + +"To the opal islands, to the seas of light, to the far-off luminous +streaks...." + +"Take a deep breath; hold fast on to my neck; twist my mane more +tightly round your hand, then we will begin our journey." + +The clouds sent forth a rumbling sound of thunder; the Chimera's +hoofs shot fire; his wings expanded and shut, and his strong feathers +rustled in the air. + +Psyche uttered a cry. + +She had ascended higher than ever before, and under them sank away +the castle, the meadows, the woods, the cities, and the river; under +them, like a map, lay stretched out province after province, desert +after desert, the whole Kingdom of the Past. How great it was! how +great it was! The frontiers receded from view again and again; +far down below rose up town after town; river after river meandered +along, mountain-ranges rose up one after the other, now only slightly +elevated, then rising arabesquely through the plains. Then there were +great waters like oceans, and Psyche saw nothing but white foaming +sea. But on the other side of it began again the strand, the land, +the wood, the meadows, the mountains, and so on endlessly.... + +"How much farther away are the opal islands, the streaks of light I +see in the distance, my beloved Chimera?" + +"We have already passed them...." + +She raised her head, bent over his streaming neck, and gazed about her. + +"But I do not see them any longer!" she said, astonished. "I see +wood and meadow, towns and mountains.... Is the world, then, the same +everywhere? Where are the opal islands?" + +"Behind us...." + +"But I do not see them.... Have we passed them without my seeing +them? O naughty Chimera, you did not tell me!" + +"And where are the luminous streaks of the far-off land?" + +"We are going through them...." + +"I see nothing.... Below, land; around, clouds, as everywhere. But +no lands of light.... And yet there, in the distance, very far +away--what is that, Chimera? I see, as it were, a purple desert on +a sea of golden water, with winding borders of soft mother-of-pearl; +in the desert are oases like pale emerald, palms with silvery waving +tops, azure bananas; and over the purple desert trills ether of light +crimson, with streaks of topaz.... Chimera, Chimera, what is that +country? What is that beautiful country? The golden sea with its foam +forms a pearly fringe along the shore; the palms wave their tops to +a rhythm of aerial music, and the bananas, blue, pink, glow in the +ether till all is light there...! Chimera, is that the rainbow?" + +"No...." + +"Chimera, is that the land of happiness? Is that the kingdom of +happiness? Chimera, are you king there?" + +"Yes, that is my country. And I am king there." + +"Are we going thither?" + +"Yes." + +"Do you remain there, Chimera? Do we remain there together?" + +"No...." + +"Why not?" + +"As soon as I have reached my purple land, I must go farther ... and +then back again." + +"O Chimera, I will not go back! I will forget everything--my father, +my country. I will remain there with you!" + +"I cannot.... But now pay great attention; we are approaching my +kingdom, little Psyche. Look! now we are going over the sea, now we +are approaching the shore, lined with soft mother-of-pearl." + +"The sea is a dirty green, like an ordinary sea; the borders are +sand.... You are deceiving me, Chimera! As soon as we approach, +then you charm away everything that I saw beautiful." + +"Now, under us is the purple desert; under us are the oases of pale +emerald." + +"You are deceiving me, Chimera! The desert glows in the strong sun, +the oases fade away to nothing, like a meteor.... Chimera!" + +"What, Psyche?" + +"Where are you going?" + +"To the land, as far off as you can see...." + +"I care not about it! You always deceive me! You carry me away through +endless space, and everything beautiful that I see disappears from +my view. But yet ... there, behind the horizon, behind the sand of +the desert, is a dazzling scene.... Are those silver grottos on a +sea of light? Does the light there wave like water? Are those groves +of light, cities of light, in a land of light? Tell me, Chimera, +do people of light live there? Is that Paradise?" + +"Yes, will you go thither?" + +"Yes, oh yes, Chimera. There is happiness, the highest happiness, +and there I will remain with you...!" + +"We are now approaching it...." + +"Let that land of light now stay, the paradise of glowing sunshine; +do not charm away the land of happiness, O naughty Chimera: go to it +now with me, and descend with me...." + +"We are there...." + +"Descend...." + +He descended. + +"Have we not yet reached the ground of light?" + +"Look below: can you see nothing...?" + +She looked along his wing. + +"I see nothing...! It is night.... It is dark.... Chimera!!!" + +"What, little Psyche?" + +"Where is the land of silver light, the land of the people of +light? Where is it gone?" + +"Do you not see it?" + +"No...." + +"Then it is gone...." + +"Whither?" + +"Behind us, under us...." + +"Why did you not descend sooner?" + +"My flight was too quick, and I could not, Psyche...." + +"You are deceiving me! You could have done so. You would not.... Now +... now it is night, pitch dark, starless night.... There is an icy +coldness in the air.... O Chimera, take me back...!!" + +He turned with a swing of his powerful wings. And as he turned, +the lightning broke forth and darted zigzag through the air, like +smooth-bright electric swords; the black clouds parted asunder with +a violent peal of thunder like the clapping of cymbals, a storm of +wind arose, the rain fell down in torrents...! + +"O Chimera, take me back!" + +She threw herself on to his neck; she hid her face in his mane, +and through the bursting storm, whilst at every blow of his hoofs it +lightened round them, he winged his way, back with her to her country: +the Kingdom of the Past, inky there, in the inky night.... + + + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +The old king was dead. + +Black flags hung from the three hundred towers, and cast their dark +shadows below. + +A dim light fell through the bow-windows into the castle, for the +three hundred flags obscured the sun. + +With funeral music, that made the heart feel sad, the procession, +with long flickering torches, followed the king's coffin down the +steps to the deep vaults below. + +The priests, in black, prayed in Latin; the court, in black, sang +the litany; and the princesses, in black, sang alternately a long +Latin sentence.... + +Behind the coffin walked, first, Emeralda; behind her, Astra her +sister; and then little Psyche, wrapped in her black veil. Emeralda +sang with a voice of crystal; Astra, distracted, was too late in +answering; and Psyche's voice trembled when she had to sing alone +the long monotonous sentence.... + +There, in the deepest vault, they placed the coffin, next to the coffin +of the king's father, and kneeling round it, they prayed. The low Roman +vaults receded in impenetrable darkness. They sang and prayed the whole +live-long day, and Psyche was very tired; and whilst she was kneeling, +her little knees quite stiff, she fell asleep against the coffin of +her father. Her last thought had been to kiss the dear old face for the +last time, but she felt nothing but the goldsmith's work, and the great +round jewels that were in it hurt her head.... Then she fell asleep.... + +And when the court had prayed, and all went up the steps again, there +above, to do homage to Emeralda, as queen of the Kingdom of the Past, +they all forgot Psyche. + +Long, long she slept.... + +And when she awoke, she did not know at first where she was. + +Then by the light of the long torches she espied the coffin. + +And through the crystal of the sarcophagus she saw the dead face of +the king, and pressed a kiss upon the glass. + +"Dear father!" she whispered, trembling, "why have you gone? I am +now quite alone! Of Emeralda I am afraid, and Astra does not think +of me; she only thinks of the stars. Father, dear, forgive me! I +have deceived you. I have travelled through the air on the back +of the flying horse. But father, dear, the horse is beautiful, +and I love the Chimera! O father dear, I have deceived you, and +now I am alone, and I have nobody who cares for me! You are dead, +father, and embalmed, and shut up in gold and crystal and jewels, +and do not hear your little Psyche. You do not think of your little +daughter. Alone! alone! Awe-inspiring is the castle; three hundred +towers rise high up in the air. I have never been in all the three +hundred, however much I have wandered. O father, father, why have +you left me? Who is there to love me now? who to protect me now in +the world? Father, farewell! I will not stay here; I will go away! I +will leave the castle. Great is the world and wicked, but Emeralda +is powerful and I am afraid of her. If I remain, she will drive me +away with her look and shut me up all my life, and my wings I shall +break against the unbreakable lattice. + +"Father, farewell! I will not remain here. I will +flee! Whither? Whither shall I flee? I do not know. O father, dear, +alone your child remains in the great, unsafe world! Alone! alone! O +father, farewell, farewell! and forever!" + +She rose, she shivered. The dark vaults receded more and more. By the +light of the long torches she saw the sacred spiders, which wove web +after web; they were never disturbed. + +"Sacred spider!" said Psyche to a big fat one, with a cross on its +back, "tell me where I must go." + +"You cannot flee," replied the spider, high up in the dark vault, in +the middle of its web. "Everything is as it is; everything becomes as +it was; happens as it happens; all goes to dust. Every day sinks into +the deep vaults of the dark pits under us; under us everything becomes +the Past, and everything comes into the power of Emeralda. As soon as +anything is, it has been, and is in the power of Emeralda. Seek not +to flee--that is vanity; submit to your lot. The best thing is that +you become one of us, a sacred spider, and weave your web. For our +web is sacred; our web is indisturbable; and with all our webs, one +for the other, we serve the princess and protect her treasures--the +treasures of the Past, which behind our weaving go to dust." + +"But if they go to dust, of what value are they?" + +"Foolish child, dust is everything. The Past is dust; remembrance +is dust. Everything becomes dust; love, jewels--all becomes dust, +and the sacred dust we watch over behind our webs. Become a spider +like us, weave your web, and be wise." + +"But I live. I am young, I desire, I love, and I cannot bury myself +in dust.... Oh, tell me whither I must flee!" + +The spider laughed scornfully, and moved its eight legs with great +impatience. + +"Ask me not about the places of the world--the regions of the +wind. I sit here and spin. I am holy. I watch over the treasure of +the throne. Disturb me no more with your frivolity, and let not your +wings get entangled in the rays of my web, although you are not a moth, +but princess of the Kingdom of the Past...." + +Psyche was frightened. The spider reverenced her because she was +a princess, but coveted with his wicked instinct.... And she drew +back. She cast a last look at the dead face of her father, and fled up +the hundred steps. In every corner sat the sacred spiders and moved +their legs. Shuddering, she fled on. Whither? She thought of her +love, the light-gold Chimera, but nowhere could he be with her for +ever. She glided with him through the air, and he brought her back +to the castle. His lot was to fly restlessly through the air. Oh, +were she but a Chimera like him, had she but two strong wings instead +of princesses' wings, she would have gone with him everywhere...! + +Whither? Above, from the enthronement-hall, came the sounds of joyful +music. There Emeralda was being crowned. Whither?? She fled to the +terrace.... Oh, if Emeralda missed her, how angry she would be! She +would think that Psyche refused to do her homage. She could never +return. Farewell, flowers, swans, doves! + +The three hundred flags obscured the light. She would never be able to +see the Chimera coming. Oh, if he came and she did not see him, and +did not beckon to him, and he flew past! He was her only safety! If +needs be, she would wait for days together on the battlements. But +if Emeralda sent to search for her! Oh, if she did, then there was +the cataract; then she would throw herself headlong down, for ever, +for ever, into the rushing water with its rainbow colours! + +A wind arose. That was the wind that brought her beloved. The flags +flapped and impeded her view. And although she saw nothing, she +beckoned as in despair, and called out: + +"Chimera, Chimera!" + + + + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +It lightened. It thundered. Suddenly between the black flags the +horse descended. + +"What is it, little Psyche?" + +"Take me with you." + +"Where?" + +"Where you like. Take me somewhere. My father is dead. Emeralda +reigns. I dare not stay here any longer." + +"Get up...." + +She got up. He flew away with her. He flew with her the whole day. The +sun set; the stars glistened in the dark firmament; and he flew +back. Again they approached the castle. The day began to dawn. + +"Fly past!" she entreated. + +He flew on. Under her she could just see the castle, small as a toy; +the three hundred towers, where green flags now fluttered because +Emeralda reigned. He flew on. + +"Chimera!" she cried. "I love you; you are the most beautiful, most +glorious creature that I have ever beheld. Safe I lie upon your back, +tied to your mane, my arms round your neck. But I am tired. I am +dizzy. I am cold. Put me down somewhere.... Can you not rest with +me in a beautiful valley, amongst flowers, near a brook? Are you +not thirsty? Are you not tired, and never dizzy and cold? Will you +not graze and lie in a meadow? Do you never, never rest? Chimera, +I love you so! But why this restless flying from East to West, from +West to East?" + +"I must do it, little Psyche." + +"Chimera, descend somewhere. Stay somewhere with me. I am tired, +I am cold. I want to go to sleep on a bed of moss, under the shade +of trees; sleep there with me." + +"I cannot. My lot is to fly through the air, apparently without an +object, but yet with an object; and what that is, I do not know." + +"But what then does the Power want? You fly through the air; the spider +spins its web; Emeralda reigns over dust; everything is as it is. Oh, +life is comfortless! Chimera, I can hold out no longer! I love you +with all my soul, but if you do not descend, then I will loose the +knots of your mane, I will let go my arms that are so tired, and then +I shall fall down into nothingness...." + +"Hold out a little longer. Yonder is the purple desert...." + +"Oh, that is beautiful!" she exclaimed. "But you fly past it, always +past it...!" + +"Do you want to rest, Psyche?" + +"Oh, yes...." + +"Then I will descend.... Hold out a little longer." She held him tight, +and looked about. He plied his wings with a rapidity that made her +dizzy; they blew a wind round Psyche.... + +In the air there loomed the purple sands on the golden sea, with a +pearly border of foam; the azure bananas, which waved their tops in +the light-pink ether.... + +Psyche held her breath.... "Would he descend there...?" + +Yes, indeed, he was descending ... he was descending. The purple, +she thought, grew pale as soon as he descended; the sea was no longer +golden, the foliage no longer blue.... But yet, yet it was beautiful, +a dream-conceit, an enchanted land, and he was descending. With his +broad wings he glided down. Now he stood still, snorting his breath +in a cloud of steam. She glided gently down his back on to the sand, +and laughed, and gave a sigh of relief! + +"Rest now, here, Psyche!" said he dejectedly, and the quiver in his +bronze-sounding voice startled her; she laughed no more. + +"Rest now. Look! here are dates, and there is a spring. The soft +violet night is rapidly spreading over the sky and cooling the too warm +air. A few pale stars are already glistening. Now quench your thirst; +now refresh yourself and rest.... This is a pleasant oasis. Now sleep, +little Psyche. To-morrow will soon be here.... Farewell!" + +She looked at him with wondering eyes. She threw herself on his broad, +powerful, heaving breast, and round his arched neck she threw her +trembling arms. + +"What...? What do you say, Chimera?" she asked, pale with fear. "What +are you going to do? What do you mean? Surely you will rest here with +me in the soft violet night and amongst the blue flowers? With me you +will refresh yourself with dates and water? You will let me sleep in +the shadow of your wings, and watch over me during the dreadful night?" + +"No, little Psyche. I am going farther and farther, and then I will +return. Then after weeks ... after months, perhaps, you will see me +again in the air...." + +"You will forsake me? Here in the desert?" + +"Take courage, little Psyche: you are now too tired to fly farther +with me through the air. You would slip from my back and fall into +nothingness. Here is a pleasant oasis; here are dates and a murmuring +stream...." + +She uttered a cry; her sobs choked her. She uttered a second, which +frightened the hyenas far away in the desert and made them prick up +their ears. She uttered a third, which rent the night-air, and the +stars quivered from sympathy. + +"Alone!" she cried, and wrung her hands. "Alone! O Chimera, you will +leave me alone with dates and brook! and I thought ... and still hoped, +that you would stay with me, king in your country of the rainbow! + +"Alone! you will leave me alone in a sandy desert, in nothing but sand, +sand in the night, with a single tree and a handful of water! Alone! O +Chimera, you cannot do that...! For I love you; I adore you with all +my soul, and shall die of grief and tears, Chimera, if you fly away +from me! I love you; I worship your golden eyes, your voice of bronze, +your steaming breath, your panting flanks, your mane, to which I bound +myself, your flaming wings, which carried me far, farther and farther +... to this place...! O Chimera, lay down your smoking limbs in the +shadow of the night; lay your noble head in my arms and my bosom, and +together we will rest, and to-morrow fly away farther, united forever!" + +"I cannot, O little Psyche. I too love you, sweet burden which lay +between my wings--little butterfly with weak wings, that lent strength +to my flight; but now...." + +"But now--O Chimera, but now...?" + +"But now I must go, continue my lonely journey to and fro, without +knowing why.... Farewell, little Psyche, hope in life, hope in the +morrow...." + +He spread his wings, his limbs quivered, he ascended into the air. + +She wrung her arms, her hands. She sobbed, she sobbed.... + +"Have pity!!" she implored. "Pity, pity! What have I done? Why do you +punish me so? My God, what have I done? I have trusted, hoped, given +my soul in happiness.... Is happiness then punished? Is it not good +to hope, to trust, and to love? Ought I then to have mistrusted and +hated? What do I ask? He no longer hears me! What do I care for the +problems of life! Him I love, and in me is nothing but my love and +despair, and round me is the desert and the night, and now ... now +I must die!" + +She sobbed, and her tears flowed. She was alone. Around her loomed +the night, around her stretched the sands as far as the perceptible +horizon. And above her glistened the stars. + +And she wept. Her grief was too great for her little soul. She wept. + +"Alone!" she sobbed. "Alone...! I will not quench my thirst, I will +not refresh myself, nor will I sleep. I am tired, but I will go on...." + +On she went, and wept. In the night she walked on through the sand, +and she wept. She wept from fear and despair. And she wept so, her +tears flowed so many down her cheeks that they fell, her tears, like +drops, great and warm, deep into the sand. Her tears flowed down into +the sand. And she wept, she kept weeping, and as she went along ... her +tears did not stop. Then in the sand, her tears so warm and so great, +formed little lakes. And as she went and kept going on and weeping, +the little lakes flowed into one another, and behind her flowed a +stream of tears. Meandering after her flowed her tears. And on she +went in the night and wept.... After her, meandered faithfully the +stream of her tears.... And she thought of her lost happiness.... He +had forsaken her.... Why...? She had loved him so, still loved him +so.... Oh, she would always love him so--always, always! + +And in her love she did not scold him. For she loved him and scolded +not. She longed for no revenge, for she loved him.... + +"That was fate," she thought, weeping. "He could not do anything +else. He was obliged...." + +She wept. And oh! she was so tired, so tired of the wide sky, so tired +of the wide sand! Then she thought she could go no farther, and should +fall into the stream of her tears.... But before her a lofty shadow +fell with gloomy darkness on the violet night. She looked up, and +had to strain her neck to see to the top of the shadow. The shadow +was round above, and then tapered off behind.... But she wept so, +that she did not see.... Then with her hand she wiped away the tears +from her eyes, and gazed.... The shadow was awful, like that of an +awfully great beast. And she kept wiping away her tears, which formed +a pool around her, and gazed.... + +Then she saw. She saw, squatting in the sand, a terribly great beast +like a lion, immovable. The beast was as great as a castle, high as a +tower; its head reached to the stars. But its head was the head of a +woman, slender, enveloped in a basalt veil, which fell down, right and +left, along her shoulders. And the woman's head stood on the breast +of a woman, two breasts of a gigantic woman, of basalt. But the body, +that squatted down in the sand, was a lion, and the forepaws protruded +like walls. + +The night shone. The sultry night shone with diamonds over the +horizonless desert. And in the starlight night the beast, terrible, +rested there, half-woman, half-lion, squatting in the sand, its +paws extended and its breasts and woman's head protruding, gigantic, +reaching to the stars. Her basalt eyes stared straight before her. Her +mouth was shut and so were the basalt lips, which would never speak. + +Psyche stood before the beast. Around her was the night; around her was +the sand; above her the diamond, shining stars. Silently shuddering +and full of awe, stood Psyche. Then she thought: "It must be she, +the Sphinx...." + +She wept. Her tears flowed; she stood in the stream of her tears, +which, winding along, followed her. And weeping, she lifted up her +voice, small in the night--the voice of a child that speaks in the +illimitable. + +"Awful Sphinx," she said, "make me wise. You know the problem of +life. I pray you solve it to me, and let me no longer weep...." + +The Sphinx was silent. + +"Sphinx," continued Psyche, "open your stony lips. Speak! Tell me the +riddle of life. I was born a princess, naked, with wings; I cannot +fly. The light-gold Chimera, the splendid horse with the silver wings, +came down to me, took me away with him in wanderings through the air, +and I loved him. He has left me--me, a child--alone in the desert, +alone in the night. Tell me why? If I know, I shall--perhaps--weep no +more. Sphinx, I am tired. I am tired of the air, tired of the sand, +tired from crying. And I cannot stop; I keep on crying. If you do +not speak to me, Sphinx, then I will drown you, gigantic as you are, +in my tears. Look at them flowing around me; look at them rippling at +your feet like a sea. Sphinx, they will rise above your head. Sphinx, +speak!" + +The Sphinx was silent. + +The Sphinx, with stony eyes, looked away into the night of diamond +stars. Her basalt lips remained closed. + +And Psyche wept. Then she cast a look at the stars. + +"Sacred Stars," she murmured, "I am alone. My father is dead. The +Chimera has gone. The Sphinx is silent. I am alone, and afraid and +tired. Sacred Stars, watch over me. See my tears no longer flow; +for this night they are exhausted.... I can cry no more. I will go +to sleep, here, between the feet of the Sphinx. She speaks not, it +is true; but--perhaps she is not angry, and if she wants to crush me +with her foot, I care not. But yet I will go to sleep between her +powerful feet. In your looks of living diamond, I feel compassion +thrill.... Sacred Stars, I will go to sleep; watch over me...." + +She lay down between the feet of the Sphinx, against the breast of +the Sphinx. And she was so little and the Sphinx so great, that she +was like a butterfly sitting near a tower. + +Then she fell asleep. + +The night was very still. Far, far away in the boundless desert, a mist +drifted horizonlessly along, and lit up the darkness. The stream of +Psyche's tears meandered, like a silver thread, far away from whence +she had come. She herself slept. The Sphinx, with staring eyes and +closed mouth, looked out high into the night. The stars twinkled +and watched. + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Without a cloud arose on the horizon the first dawn of day, the round, +rosy-coloured morning glimmer. And in the dawn appeared the horizon, +and bordered the sandy plain. + +In the rosy light, gigantic, towered the gloomy Sphinx. Psyche +slept. But through her weary eyelids, the light softly sent its +rays, coral-red, and suddenly she awoke. She opened her eyes, but +did not move. + +She remained in her slumbering attitude, but her eyes looked about. She +saw the desert, without an oasis, only the brooklet of tears that +meandered far away from whence she had come. It was like a silver +thread in the rosy light of the dawn, and she followed its windings +with her eye as long as she could. And when she thus looked, she +began to weep again. The tears fell on the feet of the Sphinx, and +Psyche wept, in her slumbering position. There was a mist before her +eyes, and through the mist glimmered the rosy desert and the little +glistening stream. + +But now she wiped away her tears, which trickled through her fingers, +for she thought she saw ... and that was so improbable. She wiped +her eyes again, and saw. She thought she saw ... and it was so +improbable.... But yet it was so: she saw. She saw someone coming; +along every winding of the brook, she saw someone approaching.... Who +was it coming there? She knew not.... He came nearer and nearer. Was +she dreaming? No, she was awake. He came, whoever he was. He was +approaching.... + +She remained sitting in the same attitude. And he came nearer +and nearer, following the briny track, till he stood before the +Sphinx. The Sphinx was so great and Psyche so little, that at first +he did not see her. But because she was so white, with crimson wings, +he saw her, a little thing red and white! + +He approached between the feet of the Sphinx till he stood right +before her. + +He approached reverentially, because she had wept so much. When he +was quite close, he knelt down and folded his hands. + +Through her tears she did not recognise him. + +"Who are you?" she asked in a faint voice. + +He stood up and approached still closer, and then she recognised +him. He was Prince Eros, the King of the Present. + +"I know who you are," said Psyche. "You are Prince Eros, who was to +have married Emeralda, or Astra." + +He smiled, and she said: + +"Why do you come here in the desert? Are you seeking here for the +Jewel, or the Glass that magnifies?" + +He smiled and shook his head. + +"No, Psyche," he said gently. "I have never sought for the Jewel nor +for the Glass. + +"But first tell me: why are you here and sleeping by the Sphinx?" + +She told him. She spoke of her father who was dead, of the light-gold +Chimera, of the purple desert and the sorrowful night. She told him +of her tears. + +"I have followed them, O Psyche!" he replied. "I have come ever since +I saw you before your father's throne--a day never to be forgotten! + +"I have come here every day. Every day I leave my garden of the +Present, to ask the awful Sphinx for the solution of my problem." + +"What problem, Prince Eros?" + +"The problem of my grief. For I am grieved about you, Psyche, because +you would not follow me and stayed with your father.... Now I know +why. You loved the Chimera...." + +She blushed, and hid her face in her hands. + +"Who could see the Chimera and not love him more than me?" said Eros +gently. "Who could love him, and not weep over him?" he whispered +still more gently; but she did not hear him. + +Then he spoke louder. + +"Every morning, Psyche, I come to ask the Sphinx how long I must +still suffer, and why I must suffer. And still much more, O Psyche, +I ask the Sphinx, that I will not tell you now, because...." + +"Because...?" + +"Because it would perhaps pain you to hear the question of my heart. So +I came now, O Psyche, and then I espied a brooklet meandering through +the sand. I did not know it; I was thirsty, for I am always thirsty. I +stooped down and scooped up the clear water in my hand. It tasted salt, +Psyche: they were tears." + +"My tears ..." she said, and wept. + +"Psyche, I drank them. Tell me, do you forgive me for that?" + +"Yes...." + +"I followed the brook, and now I have found you here." + +She was silent; she looked at him. He knelt down by her. + +"Psyche," said he gently, "I love you. Because I saw you little and +naked and winged, standing amongst your proud sisters--Psyche, I love +you. I love you so much, that I would weep all your tears for you, +and would give you ... the Chimera." + +"You can't do that," she said sadly. + +"No, Psyche," answered he, "that cannot, alas! be done. I can only +weep for myself; and the Chimera ... nobody can catch him." + +"He flies too fast," she said, "and he is much too strong; but it is +very kind of you, Prince Eros...." + +She stretched out her hand, and he kissed it reverentially. + +Then he looked at her for a long time. + +"Psyche," said he, gently, "will the Sphinx give me an answer to my +question this morning?" + +She cast down her eyes. + +"Psyche," he went on, "I have drunk your tears; I respect your +grief, too great for your little heart. But may I suffer it with +you? O Psyche, little Psyche, little, in the great desert, now your +father is dead, now the Chimera is away, now you are all alone.... O +Psyche, now come with me! Oh, let me now love you! O Psyche, come now +with me! Psyche, alone in the desert, a little butterfly in a sandy +plain--Psyche, oh, come with me! I will give you a summer-house to +live in, a garden to play in, and all my love to comfort you. Don't +despise them. All that I have will I give! Small is my palace and +small my garden round it, but greater than the desert and the sky +is my great love. O Psyche, come with me now! Then you will suffer +cold and hunger and thirst no more, and the grief that your heart +now suffers, Psyche, ... we will bear together." + +He stretched out his arms. She smiled, tired and pale from weeping, +slid from the foot of the Sphinx, and nestled to his heart. + +"Eros," she murmured, "I suffer. I pine. I weep. I gave away all that +I had. I have nothing more than my grief. Can grief ... be happiness +in the Present?" + +He smiled. + +"From grief ... comes happiness," he answered. "From grief will come +happiness, not in the Present, but ... in the Future!" + +She looked at him inquiringly. + +"What is that?" she asked. "Future...! It is a very sweet word.... I do +not know what it is, but I have heard it before.... Father sometimes +spoke of it with an affected voice.... It seems to be something +far away, far, far away.... From grief will come ... in the Future +... happiness! + +"Far behind me lies the Past.... Then I was a child. Now I am a +woman.... A woman.... Now I am, Eros, a woman, a woman, who has wept +and suffered, and asked of the silent Sphinx.... Now I am no longer +a princess, but a woman, a queen ... of the Present....!" + +She fell against his shoulder and fainted. He gave a sign, and out +of the air flew a glittering golden chariot, drawn by two panting +griffons. He lifted her into the chariot. He held her tight in his +arm, and pressed her to his heart. With his other hand he guided his +two dragon-winged lions through the glowing air of the desert. + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +When Psyche opened her eyes, she heard the soft music of two pipes. And +she awoke from her swoon with a smile. She lay still and did not move, +but looked about her. She was reclining upon a soft bed of purple, +on a couch of ivory. She lay in a crystal palace; round the palace +were pillars of crystal and a round crystal gallery. The pillars were +entwined with roses, yellow, white, and pink, and they perfumed the +sunny spring morning. Through the gallery of pillars, through the walls +of crystal, she saw round her a pleasant meadow, like a round valley, +a valley like a garden, through which ran a murmuring brook between +beds of flowers. Quite near appeared the horizon of a low hill-slope, +and the cloudless sky was like a chalice of turquoise. + +The pipes changed their music. Psyche raised herself a little higher, +leaning on her arm; she laughed and looked about. In the middle of the +crystal palace was a basin of white marble, full of water, and doves +were hopping about it or drinking. Sitting at the gate of crystal +pillars, Psyche saw two girls; with their fingers they raised the +flutes to their mouth and played. Psyche laughed and listened. Then +she fell back on the bed again, happy, but tired, full of rest and +contentment, and she raised her head and looked up!... + +Through a crocus-coloured curtain fell the tempered spring sunshine, +quiet and soft, joyous and still. + +Psyche breathed more freely, and a sigh escaped from her heart. She put +her arms under her head; her wings lay stretched out right and left +on either side of her, and when she heard the music of the flutes, +her thoughts drifted away like an aimless dream, like rose-leaves +upon water. + +She dreamed and she listened.... She no longer felt tired, and her +eyes, which had shed a brook of tears, felt moist and fresh, cooled +by an invisible hand, with invisible care. Her breathing was regular, +and her soul felt safe.... And she smiled continually.... + +The pipes ceased playing.... + +The two girls, seeing that the queen had awaked, rose up and approached +her bed with a basket of red-blushing fruit, which they set down +near her. Then they made a deep reverence, but spoke not, and sat +down again by the pillars and blew their pipes anew; but to another +tune, somewhat louder, like a voice calling, and both in unison. The +pipes sounded jubilant in the morning, and outside, high in the air, +the lark answered joyously.... + +Psyche smiled, stretched out her hand and took a peach, a pear, +a bunch of blue grapes.... The pipes played merrily together, and +higher and higher and higher soared the lark and sang. Then Psyche +heard the brook babbling gently; the doves answered one another, +and round her the morning sang her welcome. + +Then footsteps light approached her softly; the pipes ceased playing; +the girls rose and made a deep reverence. And between the pillars of +crystal appeared Prince Eros, the King of the Present. + +The girls withdrew, and Eros approached and knelt before Psyche. + +He said nothing, but looked at her. + +"Eros," said Psyche, "I thank you.... I have rested; my eyes cease +to burn; my hunger is appeased.... I have heard sweet music, and +everything appeared kind and to love me." + +"Everything in my kingdom is glad that the queen has come. Everything +is glad that the queen has awaked." + +"The Queen of the Present," murmured Psyche. + +Then she put her arm round his neck, and leant her head against his +shoulder. "Eros," said she gently, "I love you.... How shall I express +my love to you! You have walked in the track of my tears, my salt +tears you have drunk; out of the desert, from the breast of the awful +Sphinx, you lifted me in your chariot, drawn by swift griffons.... In +my swoon I felt myself going through the air, not with the speed of +the fair Chimera, whose hoofs struck lightning and made the thunder +roll high in the ether ... but smoothly and evenly on wheels, over +the clouds delicately tinted with the glowing dawn. How long did we +travel...? How long have I slept? Eros, how shall I express my love +to you! My love is deep gratitude, inexpressible, because you rescued +me. My love is heart-felt thankfulness, because you have cared for +and refreshed me. My love is...." + +She paused for a moment, and rose from the bed. + +"What, Psyche?" said he gently, and stood up. + +"My love is deep, submissive respect, O Eros, because you wanted to +weep my tears and give me the wish of my heart, which, had it been +fulfilled, would have caused you the most poignant grief." + +She sank upon her knees and took his hand in hers and kissed it +long. He lifted her up and pressed her to his breast. + +"My gentle Psyche!" said he. "My child and my wife and my tender +princess! Kneel not to me. In love it is sweet to give and to +suffer. Love gives, and love suffers...." + +"I have only suffered, but not given," said Psyche, in a low tone. + +"To suffer is to give most. To give to one we love the suffering of his +suffering soul, is the greatest gift that can be given, my child and +my princess! Try, with the remembrance sacred to Suffering and Love, +endured and loved, to be happy in the Present. Oh, let the Past be +a remembrance, a sacred remembrance, a golden remembrance; but now +look to the Present. Oh, let the Present comfort you--the Present, +little, humble, and poor. Look! this is all. This cupola is my palace, +this garden is my kingdom; these flowers and these birds, they are all +my treasures--roses and doves and the singing lark. More I have not; +but I have still my love--my love, great as the heaven and wide as the +universe. But he who lives in love so great, needs no greater palace +and no greater kingdom to rule over. For the treasures of Emeralda I +would not exchange my kingdom and my love.... Psyche, my queen, yet +I have ornaments for you. The Princess of Nakedness with the wings +may never wear jewels of precious stones, and jewels I have not. But +pearls, Psyche, I have pearls which Emeralda despises. Pearls, Psyche, +I found in your tears of yesterday. See! I strung them together, +they were a crown for you. Pearls may adorn you, tears may adorn +you, my child of suffering, my wife of love, queen of my soul and of +my kingdom...." + +Then he took a little crown of twelve great pearls and put it on her +head. Then he hung a necklace of pearls round her neck. And as she +stood before him naked, so immaculately delicate in her princessly +nakedness, he threw around her loins a light, thin veil, richly +adorned with pearls, and which she fastened in a knot. Then he gave +her a mirror, and she beheld herself very beautiful, crowned like a +queen, and smiled with contentment. + +"Am I a queen?" she said softly. "Am I happy? Eros, do you love me? Is +this the happiness of the Present? Eros, do I love you out of gratitude +and respect, my husband and my king...?" + +He led her gently away, through the porticos, down the crystal +steps. Cupids hovered about them, the lark sang high in the heavens, +the roses perfumed the air, the brook murmured gently. The spring +rejoiced to welcome them, and behind the shrubs the pipes played +a duet. The hill-slope of the horizon was peaceful, and above, the +heaven, arched like a turquoise chalice. + +Everything sang, everything was fragrant; in the grass buzzed thousands +of insects; about the flowers fluttered butterflies; and where Psyche, +on her husband's arm, walked along the flower-beds, all the flowers +bowed to her in homage--the white slender lilies, the violets with +laughing eyes, tall flowers and short flowers, on long and short +stems--and all gave forth their fragrance. + +Eros pointed around. + +"This is the Present, Psyche," said he, and pressed her to his heart. + +"And this is happiness, that is as a lily and a violet ..." she +whispered, with her lips to his. + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +The pleasant days followed each other like a row of laughing +houris.... Eros and Psyche tended the flowers, which did not fade when +Psyche stroked the stems or gently kissed the calyces. They wandered +along the brook, and, if the days were warm, sought coolness under +the crocus-coloured awning, in the crystal palace, where the doves +cooed round the basin. The flutes played, or Eros himself took a lyre +and sang, at Psyche's feet, the stories of days gone by. + +It was one of the pleasures of the flower-laughing Present. + +Between the shrubs, where May strewed fragrant snow-blossom, naked, +chubby cupids with tender wings played or romped, hovering like little +clouds in the air. + +The sweet nights followed the pleasant days; the diamond stars, the +same which Psyche had entreated to watch over her in the desert, +glittered in the heavens. Under the roses, close to one another, +slumbered the fair-winged children, tired out with play, their little +mouths open and their chubby legs all folds. The air was heavy with +the breath of lilac and jasmine; it was spring, it was the Present, +it was night...! + +And while Psyche lay with her head against Eros' shoulder and he wound +his arm round her waist, while Psyche looked up at the stars, sacred +in the violet night, the nightingale broke out into melody. The bird +sang, and sang alone; everything was still. The bird sang, and let +her notes fall in the air like drops of sprinkled sound, like the +harmonious falling of water from a playing fountain. The bird sang, +and Psyche closed her eyes, and felt on her lips Eros' kiss. + +The days followed the nights. It was always the sweet pleasure of +flowers and birds, of spring and love, cupids and roses, music and +dance. The flowers were more beautiful, and did not fade; the fruits +were sweeter and of richer colour; the spring air was lighter, and +life was happier than a golden day. It was day which lasted days and +nights; it was the Present. + +If Psyche were alone she longed for Eros, and when she saw him again +she spread out her arms, and they loved each other. If Psyche were +alone, she wandered about in the rosy spring morning; the flowers +bowed down to her; the brook flowed cool over her feet; she played +with the winged cherubs, who flew about her head like butterflies; she +sat down in the moss full of violets; she bade the children take off +her crown, loosen the plaits of her long hair, untie the knots of the +drapery round her loins, and she lay down on the bank of the brook; +her hand played with the clear cold water, and, naked in the shade +of flowery shrubs, she fell asleep and the cupids round her. Then +the step of the king awoke her; the children awoke; they dressed her, +and she went to meet her husband, and received him with open arms. It +was the sweet delight of the Present. + +One day she was sleeping naked under the shrubs, the boys round about +her; on the moss lay her crown and her veil, and the brooklet flowed +on, gently murmuring. The day was very still, heavy with warmth. A +storm was brewing, but the sky was still blue. In the far-off distance, +where the horizon was like waves of the sea, clouds pregnant with +storm curled up gloomily like ostrich feathers. And once there was +lightning, but no thunder. + +Then above the ridge of the hill something dark appeared to rise +against the stormy clouds. It was round like a head, like a black +head. From the black head leered two eyes, black as jet, and nothing +more appeared. Long leered the eyes; then from the palace a voice +cried. + +"Psyche, Psyche!" + +Psyche awoke, and the cupids with her. Eros approached and led her +away. The air grew dark, and the next moment the summer storm burst +forth, dark sky, lightning, rain, and thunder rapidly rolling on. It +lasted only for a time; then the sky became blue again, the flowers +recovered their breath and raised their drooping heads, shaking with +fresh rain. + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Next day, when Psyche was sleeping again by the brook, the dark head +with the leering eyes of jet appeared again on the horizon. For a long +time the eyes leered, full of lust. Then the head rose up higher like +a dark sun, behind the hill-slope in the sky. + +It was a face tanned by the sun, with coal-black hair; round the +temples a wreath of vine leaves, and from the wreath protruded two +horns like those of a young goat. + +The eyes looked lustful and young, as though they were jet and +gold. The lips laughed in the curly beard, and the sharp teeth were +dazzling white; the pointed ears stood up. + +Then the dark face became perfectly visible in the light; the shoulders +rose brown and naked, and two brown hands with long fingers lifted to +the lips a pipe of short and long reeds. The pipe played a fanfare, +a march of very quick notes. Then it stopped, and the gold-jet eyes +leered. Psyche moved in her sleep. Then the pipe sounded again, +and Psyche opened her eyes. Astonished, she listened to the notes +of the pipe, as they rose and fell so as she had never heard before, +lively and wanton, quick and playful. She sat up, leant on her arm, +and looked.... + +She started. There, on the horizon, like a dark sun, she saw the brown +face and the lips in the curly beard blowing the reeds, short and +long. Psyche started and looked on trembling. Then the pipe stopped +again, and roguishly the head nodded to her. Psyche was frightened; she +woke the boys. She fled away. From the palace Eros came to meet her. + +At first she meant to speak, but he kissed her; and why, she did +not know, but she spoke not. Then she made up her mind to tell Eros +that night, but in her husband's arms she lacked the courage to +speak. She did not tell him. The next morning she resolved not to +repose again in the moss by the brook. But that afternoon she played +with the cupids, and tired, fell asleep in the same place. The pipe +awoke her; on the horizon, the brown face stood out against the sun, +and roguishly nodded to her. + +Psyche, indignant, looked up. + +The head rose, the shoulders rose, and the whole form then rose up: +a sunburnt youth, with the legs of a goat, rough-haired and cloven +hoofs. There he stood, his dark shadow reflected in the golden rays +of the setting sun. He blew his reeds; he piped lustily and merrily, +roguishly and joyously and as well as he could, to please Psyche. She +listened--about her the boys were sleeping--and she smiled. He saw +her smile and smiled too. Then proudly she pointed with her finger +for him to go. He went, but the next day he was there again. Then she +saw him every day. He stood in the sun, which was going down, and blew +his reeds, laughed and nodded to her roguishly. Sometimes Psyche bade +him be gone; sometimes she pretended not to see who was playing there; +sometimes she listened graciously. When she heard the king call: + +"Psyche! Psyche!" she woke the cupids, who dressed her in a moment, +and went to meet her husband. She kissed him, and wished to tell him +that every day a young man with goats' legs stood on the hill and +played upon his pipe. But because she had kept silence so long, she +was silent again, and could not open her lips. It made her sad, and +Eros saw her sadness, and often asked her what it was that disturbed +the equanimity of her soul. She said "Nothing," and embraced him +and declared that she was happy. But when the lark warbled and the +nightingale's sweet notes were heard, when Eros sang to the lyre and +the brook murmured gently, Psyche always heard, between the pleasant +sounds, the impudent tunes of the reeds, short and long. She tried not +to hear, but she always heard them. They sounded saucily and merrily, +like the sounds of a little bird in a wood calling something to her +from afar; she heard, but did not yet understand what. + +One day, when he stood in the same place blowing lustily with +puffed-out cheeks, Psyche, indignant, rose with her lips closely +pressed together. She put her veil on and wound it tightly round +her loins, without waking the boys. Then, with a firm step and +innocently, she crossed a little slope, and came into a valley, a +valley of grass; there the brook flowed away between multitudes of +irises and narcissi. The goat, leering and laughing, tripped nimbly +down the hill on his hoofs to meet her. + +"Who are you?" said Psyche haughtily. + +"I am the Satyr," said he deferentially. "And now will you just see +me dance?" + +He piped a waltz, and danced for her to the measure of his tripping +music. He turned out his feet, spun round and round, and underneath, +on his back, she saw his tiny tail wagging. She laughed, and found +him amusing, with his tail, and feet, and horns. Then he turned a +somersault, and finished his dance with a bow. + +"You may not come here," said Psyche severely. "This is the Kingdom +of the Present, and I am the queen, and my husband is Eros, the +king of this kingdom. You dance indeed nicely, and you play rather +pretty tunes, but you may not come here. We have here the lark and +the nightingale, and my husband sings to the lyre." + +"That is classical music," said the Satyr. + +"I don't know what you mean by classical music. But you may not come +here and pipe, and disturb me in my afternoon slumber. If my husband +knew it, he would be very angry, and have you torn to pieces by two +raging griffons." + +"I am not afraid of that," said the Satyr. "Why, I tame panthers, +and they are much more dangerous." + +"I had pity on you," continued Psyche severely, raising her head in +queenly dignity, "and have not yet said anything to the king. But if +you come again to-morrow, I will tell him." + +"No, you won't!" said the Satyr saucily. + +"You are an ill-mannered boy!" said Psyche, angry and offended. "You +must not speak so to a princess. I ought not to condescend to speak +to you. I can see very well that you don't know how people behave +at court, and that you come from the wood. And you are ugly, too, +with your hairy feet and your tail." + +The Satyr looked at her astonished. + +"I think you very pretty!" he whispered admiringly. "Oh, I think you +so pretty! You have such pretty eyes, and such golden hair, and such +a white skin! Only, I don't like your wings. The nymphs haven't any." + +"You may not speak to me like that!" said Psyche vexed. "I am the +queen. How dare you? Go away now, else I will call the wild beasts +here." + +"Well, don't be angry!" said the Satyr in a low, imploring +tone. "That is my way of speaking. We all speak like that in the +wood. The Bacchantes, too, are not particular what they say. We are +unacquainted with your court language. And we don't know anything of +classical music. But we are always very merry and sociable together; +but you must come once...." + +"Are you going?" said Psyche imperiously, and red with passion, +and with her finger she pointed to him to be gone. He crouched down +suddenly in the reeds of the brook among the irises and narcissi, +and she saw him stealing away through the high grass. When she turned +round she beheld the cupids; they were bringing her her crown. + +"The king is looking for you, Psyche!" they cried out in the distance, +and like a cloud they hovered round her. + +She went back with them and threw herself into the arms of her husband. + +"Don't roam so far away, my little Psyche!" said Eros. "In the wood +behind the hills are wild beasts...." + +Night came on; Eros sang, the nightingale filled the air with her +sweet notes. + +"Classical music!" thought Psyche. + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Psyche had a secret. Why did she not tell it? She did not know. She +could not, after having once kept silent. She knew that she was not +doing right by being silent, and yet she did not speak. But she was +very sad about it, and felt dissatisfied. Then she wanted to speak with +Eros; but because she had said nothing at first, she was afraid. And +then she said to herself: "The Satyr does nothing wrong by standing +there and piping a little, and it is not worth while thinking much +about it...." + +And yet she did think about it, and in her ears she always heard his +saucy voice, his coarse words, countrified and funny. + +Then she laughed about it all. + +"But what does he do--what is he? a Satyr? What is a Satyr? What are +Bacchantes? And what are nymphs? Panthers, too, I have never seen. I +should like to see them. What is their life there in the wood? There +are many lives in the world, and most of them are a secret. I only +know the courtiers of the Kingdom of the Past.... Here there are the +two girls that play on the pipe and the winged children. I should +like to see all that there is in the world, and experience all that +is in life. There must be strange things, which I never see.... The +Chimera was glorious, and deep in my soul I always long for him; but +in other respects everything is the same.... No wonders take place +in this garden.... Eros is a young prince; then there are the doves, +the griffons, the cupids.... That is all so commonplace.... Oh, +to seek, to wander! The world is so great! the universe is awful, +although it has limits. My father said it had no limits.... Oh, if it +had no limits...! Oh, to seek, to wander, to soar in the air!... I +shall never see the Chimera again. Never shall I soar in the air +again.... He conjured up visions for me, and then let them pass +away.... Oh, to soar through the air! When shall I see him again, +and when shall I soar again...? Eros I love--he is my husband; but he +has no wings. The Chimera had powerful wings of silver feathers. He +has left me for ever...." + +So, alone with her thought, she wandered in the garden. The cupids she +drove away, and, crying, they hid themselves among the roses. When +the Satyr appeared, she went to meet him in the valley, where the +irises were blooming. + +"So, you are there again!" + +"Yes! won't you just see me dance again?" + +He danced and frisked his tail. + +"I have already told you more than once that you may not come here," +said Psyche severely. + +He winked roguishly; he knew very well that his presence was not +disagreeable to her. + +"You are so beautiful!" he said, in his most flattering tone; "much +more beautiful than any of the nymphs." + +"And the Bacchantes, then?" said Psyche. + +"Much more beautiful than the Bacchantes!" he answered. "But they +are also very nice. Tell me, wouldn't you like to see them?" + +Psyche was very inquisitive, and he noticed it. + +"Won't you just see them?" he repeated temptingly. + +"Where?" said Psyche. + +"Look ... there!" He pointed in the distance with his finger. + +On the hill Psyche saw forms madly whirling round in a dance. + +"Those are the Bacchantes!" said the Satyr. Psyche laughed. + +"How madly they whirl round!" she exclaimed. "Are they always so +merry?" + +"Oh, we are always dancing," said the Satyr. "In the wood it is always +pleasure. We play at tag with one another, we drink the juice of the +grapes, and we dance till nightfall." + +"Psyche! Psyche!" called a voice. + +It was her husband. The Satyr fled through the flags, and Psyche +hastened back. + +She threw herself into Eros' arms, who asked her where she had +been. And without answering him, she began to cry and hid her face +in his breast. + +"What is it, little Psyche?" asked Eros. "Are you in trouble? Amongst +the roses the boys cry, and by the brook the queen cries. Is there +then sadness in my kingdom? Does not Psyche feel happy?" + +She wept and shrugged her shoulders, as if to say that she did not +know. And she hid her face in his breast. + +"Tell me, Psyche, what is the matter?" + +She would have liked to tell him, but she could not; a stronger power +kept her back. + +"Does not Psyche feel happy? Does she long for the Chimera?" + +She laid her little hand upon his lips. + +"Don't speak about him. I am not worthy of him. I am not worthy of +you, Eros." + +He kissed her very gently. + +"What does my Psyche think about? May I not leave her any more, +alone by the brook?" + +"No, no!" said she hastily, and drew his arms round her.... "No," +she continued quickly. "Don't leave me alone any more. Always stay +by me. Protect me from myself, O Eros...!" + +"Is little Psyche ill?" + +She nodded in the affirmative, and laid her burning head upon his +breast; she nestled against him and shut her feverish eyes. + +He stayed by her, and all around was still, and the cupids appeared +fluttering in the air. That night she slept in Eros' arms. She awoke +for a moment out of her sleep; far away in the distance through the +crystal of the palace she heard the sound of pipes. She raised her +head and listened. But she would not hear any more, and hid herself +in Eros' arms and fell asleep on his heart. + +The next day he stayed by her, and they wandered to the brook. Sadness +hung over the garden, the flowers drooped. In the afternoon Psyche +became uneasy; she heard the pipe, and in the distance caught a +glimpse of vague forms dancing. + +"Do you see nothing?" she asked Eros. + +"No...." + +"Do you hear nothing?" she said again. + +"No," he answered. "Poor Psyche is ill. And the flowers are ill too, +because she is. Oh, let Eros cure you...!" + +The following night, in the arms of her husband, she heard the pipe. It +played saucy, short, lively tunes. "Come, come, now dance with us; +we are drinking the grapes. Come ... come...!" + +She could resist no longer. Trembling, she loosed herself from her +husband's arms, who was asleep. She got up, stole out of the palace, +fled through the garden to the alluring voice. + +The flowers in the brook seemed to entreat her: "Oh, go not away! Oh, +go not away!" The nightingale uttered a cry, and she thought it was +an owl. + +She hurried on to the valley, where the irises were in blossom. There, +near the brook, in the light of the moon, stood the Satyr, tripping +to the sound of his pipe, and round him, hand in hand, madly danced +the Bacchantes, naked, a panther's skin cast about them, their wild +streaming hair encircled with vine-leaves. They danced like drunken +spectres in the pale moonlight night; they waved their thyrsus, and +pelted each other with grapes, which smashed to juice upon their faces. + +"Come, come!" they cried triumphantly. + +Psyche was startled by their voices, rough and hoarse. But they opened +their circle, two stretched their hand out to Psyche, and they danced +round with her. The wild dance excited her; she had never known till +then what dancing was, and she danced with sparkling eyes. She waved +a thyrsus, and pressed the grapes to her mouth.... Then suddenly the +Satyr caught hold of her and kissed her passionately, pressing the +grapes to her lips.... + +"Psyche! Psyche!" + +She started and stood still. The Bacchantes, the Satyr, fled. + +Psyche hastened back; with her hand she wiped her contaminated, +burning lips. + +"... Psyche!" + +She ran to meet Eros, but when she saw him, godlike and beautiful as an +image, spotlessly pure in the moonlight, with his noble countenance, +his deep brown eyes full of love, she was so disgusted with herself +that she fell at his feet in a swoon. + +He lifted her up and laid her on the bed. + +He watched while she slumbered. + +The whole night he watched by her.... + +And it seemed as if she were wandering in her mind.... + +Her face glowed with fever, and ever and anon she wiped her lips. + +Outside in the garden the flowers drooped in sorrow. The lark was +silent, and the little angels sat together with their wings drawn +in. The sky was ash-coloured and gloomy. + +That night Psyche slept in Eros' arms, and afar off the pipe allured +her.... + +She extracted herself from Eros' embrace and got up.... + +She wanted to kiss him for the last time, but durst not, for fear of +waking him. + +"Farewell!" she whispered very gently. "Noble Eros, beloved +husband, farewell! I am unworthy of you. The Satyr's kiss is still +burning on my lips; my mouth is on fire from the juice of the +grapes. Farewell...! And if you can, forgive me!" + +She went. + +The night was sultry and heavy with thunder; the flowers, exhausted, +hung their heads; the nightingale uttered a cry, and she thought it +was an owl. Bats flitted about with flapping wings. + +She walked with a firm step. She followed the brook to where it +flowed into the valley. Yonder ... with the Satyr in their midst, +danced the Bacchantes. + +"Hurrah! Hurrah!" they cried out, rough and hoarse, and threw at her +a bunch of grapes. + +She hesitated a moment.... She raised her eyes. Through the gloomy +night a single star glistened like a cold, proud eye. + +"Sacred star!" said Psyche, "you who watched over me before, and now +leave me for ever ... tell him that I am unworthy of him and beg him +to forgive me!" + +The star hid itself in the darkness. + +"Come!" cried the Bacchantes. + +Psyche took a step forward.... + +"Brook!" she then cried, "little stream of the land of the Present, +babbling pure and peacefully, in which I never more may cool myself +... oh, tell him that I am unworthy of him and beg him to forgive me!" + +The brook went murmuring over the stones, and muttered: "No, no...." + +"Come, come!" cried the Bacchantes. + +Then Psyche plucked a single violet, white as a maiden's face. + +"Sweet violet!" said she, "humble flower, don't be proud. Your queen, +who is forsaking her kingdom, entreats the star and brook in vain. She +is no longer a queen. She is no longer obeyed. Sweet violet, hear +the prayer of Psyche, who, unworthy, is forsaking the Present...." + +"Stay, Psyche!" implored the flower in her hand. + +"Dear little flower!" said Psyche, "born in the moss, withering when +you are plucked, what do you know of gods and mortals? What do you +know of soul and life and power? Psyche can no longer stay. But beg +Love to forgive her...! Oh, give him my last message!" + +She kissed the flower and laid it in the moss. + +"Psyche! Psyche! Come!" cried the Bacchantes. + +She sprang forward into the midst of the dance. + +"Here I am!" she cried wildly. And they dragged her away with them +to the wood. + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +When Eros awoke that morning, he found not Psyche by his side. He +got up, thinking that she was in the garden, and went out. + +The sky was dull and lowering, a mist hung over the hills. The lark +had not sung, the cupids were not fluttering about. + +"Psyche!" cried he, "Psyche!" + +No answer was returned. No sigh rustled in the leaves of the trees; +no insect hummed in the grass; the flowers hung down withered on +their limp stems. A deathly chilliness reigned around. A fearful +presentiment took possession of Eros. He walked along the flower-beds, +along the brook. + +"Oh! where is Psyche?" he cried. "Oh, tell me, water, flowers, birds, +where is Psyche!!" + +No answer was returned. The brook flowed on murkily and noiselessly, +the flowers lay across the path; no bird sang among the leaves. He +wrung his hands and hastened on. Then he came to the spot where Psyche +was wont to rest in the moss by the brook, in the shade of the shrubs. + +"Who will tell me where Psyche is?" he exclaimed in despair, and +threw himself on the moss and sobbed. + +"Eros!" cried a weak voice. + +"Who speaks there?" + +"I, a white violet, which Psyche plucked.... Hear me quickly, for +I feel I am dying, and my elfin voice is scarcely audible to your +ear. Listen to me ... I am lying close to you. Take me in your +hand...." + +Eros took the flower. + +"Psyche has been enticed by the Satyr into the wood. The Bacchantes +have taken her away. This was her last word: that she was unworthy of +you, and went away praying for forgiveness.... She could not remain, +she said; she went...! Eros, forgive her!" + +The flower shrivelled up in his hand. Eros rose and tottered; he too +felt that he was dying. + +Sad at heart walked Eros, and all along his path the flowers now lay +shrivelled. The brook was dry. The lark lay dead before his feet. The +cupids lay dead in the withered roses. + +Eros went into the castle and fell upon the purple bed. + +A single dove was expiring at the marble basin. + +The strings of the lyre were all broken.... + +Eros too felt that his life was leaving his body. + +He raised his eyes, over which the film of death was stealing, and +looked about the castle; the crystal crumbled off and split from the +top to the bottom. + +"Sacred powers!" prayed he, "forgive her as I forgive her, and love +her till the End, as I shall and for ever. Let her find what she seeks; +let her wanderings once come to an end; let her soar through the air, +if she must, till she comes to the purest sphere...." This sphere was +the earth, the sweet Present, the little resting-point on which she +could not wander, and thus felt within her the irresistible desire.... + +"Sacred powers, let her one day find what her happiness is. Then, +if it is not I.... Let her find...." + +His voice failed, his eyes opened as in a vision, and he whispered +and finished his prayer: "... find ... in the Future...!" + +That sacred word was his last. He died. + +In the Kingdom of the Present, that once had been as a smiling garden, +everything was now dead.... + + + +Then ... in the mist, which hung over the ridge of the mountains, +something seemed to be creeping near, something with feet that could +only move slowly. From many sides, over the hill-top, the strange +creeping came nearer.... Gigantic, hairy feet of monstrous spiders +were walking over it; they came nearer and nearer; they were spiders +with big, swollen bodies and feet always in motion.... + +They were the sacred spiders of Emeralda, Princess of the Past. Eagerly +they ran to the dead garden of the Present.... + +They surrounded the garden and threw out their filaments to the crystal +roof of the palace. Then they wove over the Present, that lay dead, +one single gigantic web.... + +And whilst they wove, the dead Present went to dust. + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +In the wood, in the autumn sun, Autumn was keeping festival. + +The foliage shone resplendent in yellow, bronze, purple, golden-red, +and pink; the sulphur-coloured moss looked like antique velvet. With +gusts of wind, the branches, madly arrogant, shook off their exuberance +of sere and yellow leaves, as if they were strewing the paths with +silver and gold and rustling notes. + +Loudly laughing danced the dryads through the whirling leaves. + +Out of the foaming stream between moss-covered rocks, rose the white, +naked nymphs. + +"Where is she? Where is she?" cried they inquisitively. + +"There she comes! there she comes!" shouted the mad dryads, and in +handfuls they cast the leaves into the air, which whirled over the +nymphs and fell down on the water. + +The dryads danced past, and the nymphs looked out inquisitively. They +stood, a naked group, in their rocky bath; their arms were +clasped round one another; green was their hair and white as +pearls were their bosoms. The sere and yellow leaves kept whirling +about. Trampling feet were approaching and were heard amongst the +rustling leaves. Merry-makers were drawing near; the golden foliage +quivered like a curtain of thin, fine, gold lace.... + +"There she comes! there she comes!" exclaimed the nymphs with joy. + +The branches cracked, the leaves whirled about, the tender sprays +recoiled from the noisy merry-makers, who were advancing. + +Nearer they came with the sound of pipe and cymbal. Drunken Bacchantes +danced before them, waving the thyrsus, hand in hand with fauns and +satyrs; they encircled a triumphal car, drawn by spotted lynxes. + +High on the car sat a youth, beardless, with a wreath of vine-leaves +round his forehead, full of laughter and animal spirits, with blue +eyes that showed his love of pleasure. Naked were his godlike limbs, +chubbily formed like the tender flesh of a boy, and his legs were +long and slender, his arms rounded like those of a woman. He was the +prince of the wood, of divine origin: Prince Bacchus was his name. + +And next to him on the triumphal car, sat little Psyche enthroned. She +too was naked, with nothing on but her veil, and her wings were +so strikingly beautiful, crimson and soft yellow and with four +peacock's-feather eyes. Round the car, close together as a bunch of +grapes, sported madly a number of wine-gods, tumbling over one another, +grape-drunken children. + +In triumph the procession rushed on through the golden wood. The +Bacchantes and satyrs sang and danced; two satyrs drove the lynxes, +which, spiteful as cats, spat at them; the wine-gods entwined the +vine and bore great heavy bunches of grapes. + +High up, like a butterfly, which was a goddess, sat Psyche, and +laughed with glistening eyes and glowing cheeks, waving to the nymphs. + +"Live! long live Psyche--Psyche with the splendid wings!" shouted +the nymphs. + +The wind blew, the leaves whirled about; the procession swept past as +though hurried along by the gale. A little wine-god had fallen and lay +in the yellow leaves, playing with his chubby legs, purple-red from +the juice of grapes; he was crying because he had been left behind; +then he succeeded in getting on to his feet, and tottered after the +procession.... + +The nymphs laughed loudly at the little wine-god; they dived under +and beneath the rocks. + +The wind blew, the yellow leaves whirled about. + +And the wood became still and lonely. + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +"Psyche, stay!" said Bacchus entreatingly. + +"No, no, let me alone!" + +"With you goes all joy from the feast; Psyche, stay!" + +"I will not always sing, dance, drink. No, no, let me alone!" + +She pushed him away from her; she pushed the satyrs away from her; +she broke the round dance of the Bacchantes, who, drunken, shouted +with drunken eyes and wide-open, screaming mouths. + +"Psyche! Psyche!" screamed all. + +She laughed loudly and coquettishly, like a spoilt child. + +"I will come back to-morrow, when you are sober!" she said with a +mocking laugh. "Your voices are hoarse, your song is out of tune, +your last grapes were sour! I will only have the sweet of your feast, +and the bitter I will leave to you. Spread out your panther skins; +go and sleep off your drunkenness. If your feast has to last till +winter, you need rest--rest for your hoarse throats, rest for your +drunken legs, rest for your heads, muddled with wine.... I will come +back to-morrow, when you are sober!" + +She gave a loud, mocking laugh, and rushed into the wood. It was +a moonlight night; in the pale moonbeams she left the wild feast +behind. The jealous Bacchantes danced round Bacchus, and embraced him. + +Psyche hastened on. Her temples throbbed, her heart beat, and her +bosom heaved. When she was far enough away, she stopped, pressed both +her hands to her bosom, and gave a deep sigh. More slowly she went +on to the stream. Fresh was the autumn night, but burning were her +naked limbs! + +The wood was still, save that in the top-most branches the wind +moaned. Like a silvery ship the moon sailed forth from the luminous, +ethereal sea, and the rushing mountain-stream foamed like snow on the +rocks. With a longing desire for coolness and water, Psyche stepped +down to the flags on the bank; with her hands she put aside the irises, +and made her way through the ferns and plunged her foot into the water. + +Then the nymphs dived up. + +"Psyche! Psyche!" cried they joyously, "Psyche with the splendid +wings!" + +Psyche smiled. She threw herself into the water, and the snow-white +foam dashed up. + +"Let me be with you a moment," entreated Psyche. "Let me cool myself +in your stream." + +The nymphs pressed round her and carried her on their arms. She lay +down at full length. + +"Cool my forehead, cool my cheeks, cool my heart!" she cried +imploringly. "Dear nymphs, oh, cool my soul! Everything burns on me +and in me; fire scorches my lips, fire scorches my brain.... O dear +nymphs, cool me!" + +The nymphs sprinkled water on her; Psyche put her arm round the neck +of one of them. + +"Your water-drops hiss on my forehead as on burning metal. Your +flakes of foam evaporate on the fire in my breast. And on my soul, +O dear nymphs, you cannot sprinkle your coolness!" + +The nymphs filled their stream-urns and poured them over Psyche. + +"Pour them all out! Pour them all out!" cried Psyche entreatingly. "But +although my hair is dripping, and my wings and my limbs too, +my lips are scorched, my poor forehead burns, and within me, O +nymphs...! within me, my soul is consumed as in hell-fire...!" + +The nymphs took her gently in their arms; they dived with her below, +they came up again; they kept diving up and down. + +"Oh, bathe me, bathe me!" cried Psyche imploringly. "Benevolent nymphs, +bathe me! Some coolness still hangs about my body ... but my soul, +oh, my soul you can never cool!" She wept, and the nymphs caught up +her tears in mother-of-pearl shells. + +"Are you collecting my tears? Oh, no, they are not worth it. Once +I wept a brook full; once they were drunk, drunk by Love; once they +were pearls, and Love crowned me with them! Now, now they are like +drops of wine, drops of fire, and though they should congeal and +become rubies or topazes, they may never crown me more. Henceforth +my tears I shall always shed ... for Emeralda!" + +In the shells the nymphs saw glistening pearls, and they understood +not.... But all their urns they poured out upon Psyche's eyes. + +"My eyes are getting cool, O beloved nymphs; many tears I shall never +shed again; never again shall I weep a brook full.... But cool my soul, +extinguish deep within me the burning flames!" + +"We cannot, Psyche...." + +"No, no, you cannot, O nymphs! Let me lie still, then, still in your +arms. Let me rock quietly to and fro on your white-foaming water, then +let me sleep quietly.... But in my sleep my soul keeps burning; in +my dreams I see it flame up, high up as out of a hole in hell.... Oh!" + +She uttered a cry, as of pain.... The nymphs rocked her in their +entwined arms, as in a cradle of lilies, and softly sang a song.... + +"Nymphs, nymphs....! This is the fire that nothing can extinguish--no, +never.... This is remorse...." + +The nymphs understood her not; they rocked her and sang in a low, +soft voice. + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +That morning she wandered about in the rosy autumn dawn--a mist between +the trees stripped of leaves. Along the path she trod; on a skin she +found a satyr and a Bacchante lying in a drunken sleep, tight in each +other's arms; a cup lay on the ground, a broken thyrsus, pressed-out +grapes. She hastened on and sought the most lonely spots. The foliage +became scantier, the trees grew farther apart, the wood ended in a +plain and, violet misty, a perspective of very low hills. + +Psyche walked on over the plain and climbed the hills. + +The autumn wind blew and howled between shrubs and bushes, and sang +the approach of winter. But Psyche felt not the cold, for her naked +limbs glowed: her soul was all on fire. + +On the highest hill-top she looked out, her hand above her eyes, +gazing into the violet mist.... Unconscious to herself, she hoped +for something vague and impossible: that she might see Eros, that +he would come to her, that she would fall at his feet, that he would +forgive her tenderly, and take her away with him. Impossible. "What +was impossible? Could not everything be possible? Had he not followed +the track of her tears? had he not found her in the arms of the +Sphinx?" Oh, she hoped, she hoped, she hoped more definitely! Her +remorse-burned soul longed for the balsam of his love in the palace +of crystal, for the sounds of his lyre, for the tender words in the +garden of the Present. + +She hoped, she gazed.... + +In the pale glow of the morning sun, the violet mist cleared up, +and parted like violet curtains.... + +She gazed: there was the Present.... + +There Eros would be, mourning for his naughty Psyche! + +There he would presently forgive her.... + +Oh, how she hoped, how she longed!.... She longed; she stretched out +her arms and dared cry in a plaintive voice: + +"Eros!" + +The wind blew through bush and shrub and sang the approach of +winter. The violet curtains of mist were drawn aside. The sad autumn +morning appeared. There, now visible, lay the Present.... + +And Psyche gazed, screening her eyes with her hand.... + +There she saw her happiness of days gone by, destroyed. In a dead, +withered garden, a ruin: crystal pillars crumbling to pieces. And +between the pillars, spiders' webs; all over the garden spiders' +webs, web upon web, and in them spiders with bloated bodies and +lazy-moving feet.... + +Then she saw that Emeralda was reigning! + +Then she felt that Eros was dead! + +She had murdered him! + +Oh, how her limbs glowed, how her soul burned! Oh, the burning pain +within her, deep within--a pain which no grape-juice could allay, +which no mad dance could deaden and the nymphs could not cool, though +they poured over her all their urns! Oh, that hell in her soul, for +the irretrievable desolation, for the murdered one, past recall! Oh, +that suffering, not for herself, but for him--for another! that +repentance, that burning remorse!.... + +She fell to the ground and sobbed. + +The pale sunbeams faded away, thick grey clouds came sweeping along, +a shower of hail rattled down, flinging handfuls of icy-cold stones.... + +She felt a touch on her shoulder. She looked up. + +It was the Satyr who had allured her with his pipe, there, on that +very spot. + +"Psyche!" said he, "what are you doing here, so far away from all +of us? Winter is coming, Psyche; listen to the whistling winds, feel +the rattling hail; the last leaves are being blown away. We are going +to the South, and Prince Bacchus is seeking for you.... What are you +doing here, and why are you crouching down and weeping? + +"We are having a feast and are fleeing the winter; come!" + +"I feel no cold; I am burning.... Let me stay here, and weep, +and die...." + +"Why should you die, O Psyche, Psyche, so pretty and so gay--Psyche, +the prettiest and gayest, who can dance the maddest, who can dance +out all the Bacchantes? Come!...." + +She laughed through her tears, a laugh like a piercing shriek. + +"But Psyche, do you know what it is?" said the Satyr, whispering +confidentially. "Do you know what it is that prevents you from being +happy, and why you are not like all of us? I told you before, Psyche: +it is on account of your wings. Your wings prevent you from putting +a beast's skin round you, and entwining your hair with vine. The +nymphs find your wings pretty, but what do you want with things +that are pretty, yet of no use whatever? If you could only fly with +those wings!" + +... "If I could only fly with those wings!" said Psyche, sighing. "No, +I have never been able to fly with them, my poor, weak wings!" + +"The nymphs think your wings pretty, but the nymphs are +sentimental. The Bacchantes think them ugly, and laugh at you in +secret. Prince Bacchus does not like wings either; he cannot embrace +you well with those things on your back. Psyche, dear Psyche, listen: +shall I tell you something....? You must let me cut those wings off +with a pair of grape-scissors. For when you have got rid of your wings, +then you can throw a panther's skin round you, and put a vine-wreath +round your hair, and you will be altogether one of us...." + +The wind blew, the hail rattled down: winter was coming on. + +... "Eros is dead!" murmured Psyche, "Spring is past, the Present is +withered, Emeralda reigns.... 'What are you doing with things that +are pretty, and have no use at all...?' + +"If I cannot possibly get cool, if I keep burning deep within me +... it is better, perhaps, to renounce my princess's rights, to go +naked no longer, to have no wings...." + +"Tell me, Psyche, may I cut them off?" + +"Yes, clip them! Cut them right off, my wings, which are only +pretty!" she cried fiercely. "Cut them off!!" + +His eyes glowed jet and gold, his breath came quickly from joy. He +produced his sharp scissors.... + +And whilst she knelt, he cut off both her wings. + +They fell on the ground and shrivelled up. + +"Oh, that pains, that pains!... Oh, that pains!" cried Psyche. + +"It is a little wound, it will soon heal," said the Satyr soothingly, +but grinning with pleasure. + +Then he threw a panther's skin round her, put a wreath of vine-leaves +on her head, and she was like a fair Bacchante still very young and +tender, with her white skin, with her tender eyes of soul-innocence, +in which, deep down, dejection reigned. + +"Psyche!" cried he delighted, "Psyche! How pretty you are!" + +She uttered her shrill laugh, her laugh of bitter irony. He led +her away down the hills. She looked about: yonder lay the Present, +reduced to dust and spider-webs. She looked about: in the wind, +which was blowing, her wings whirled away, shrivelled up, whirled +away like dry leaves. + +She laughed and put her arm round his neck, and they hastened back +to the wood. + +The wind blew; the first snowflakes fell. + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +Slowly followed the seasons--winter, spring, summer, autumn.... + +Winter, spring, summer, autumn, fell in turn, like dust, into the +caves of Emeralda. + +Winter, spring, summer, autumn, were the Present for a moment, and +sank into the Past. + +And again it was spring.... + +In the grassy plains, the shepherds drove out their flocks, and they +sang because the sky was blue, because the world trilled with hope, +in the new and tempered sunshine. + +What did the shepherds know of Emeralda? They had never seen her. They +sang, they sang; they filled the air with their song. As a reed, +their song remained quivering and hanging in the air. In the wood +and in the mountains, over the meadows and in the air, Echo sang with +them their song. They sang because the sky was blue.... + +Emeralda they did not know.... + +Blue, blue ... blue was the air! Hope quivered in the sunshine, +and love in their hearts.... + +Into the grassy plains the shepherds drove their flocks, and they +sang because the sky was blue. + + + +On the border of the wood, where endless plains extended, there lived +in a grotto between rocks, a holy hermit who was a hundred years old. + +How many seasons had he seen sink into the pits of the Past...! + +How many times had he heard the Lenten song of the shepherds! Wrapped +in contemplation, he heard them singing. They sang because the sky was +blue. The lark was soaring because the world trilled with hope.... They +sang because fleecy lambs were sporting again in the meadows. They +sang because they were young and loved the shepherdesses. They sang +of blue sky, of hope, of lambs, and love.... + +The hermit continued deep in thought.... + +Every spring it was the same song, and he had never sung with +them. Never had he known the Present, the spring Present of the +shepherds. + +The hermit continued deep in thought; he dreamed that Satan was +tempting him, but his pious mind resisted. He dreamed that he had +died in prayer, and his soul, purified, ascended into heaven. + +Far off in the grassy plains was heard the bleating of the lambs, +the voices of the shepherds. + +The hermit heard a step. He looked up. + +He saw a little form, as of a naked girl with no covering but her +hair. And he thought it was really Satan, and he muttered an exorcism; +he knit his brow, he crossed his arms. + +The little form approached and knelt down. + +"Holy father!" said she, in a low, trembling voice, "don't drive +me away. I am poor and unhappy. I am a sinner, and come to you for +help. I am not shameless, holy father, and I am ashamed that I appear +before you naked. I asked the shepherdesses for something to cover me, +but they laughed at me, drove me away and threw stones at me. Father, +O father, men are merciless, they all drive me away.... I come from +the wood, and the wild beasts are not so cruel as men. In the wood the +beasts spared me. A lion licked the wounds on my feet, and a tigress +let me rest in the lair of her whelps. Holy father, the wild beasts +had pity!" + +"Then why don't you remain in the wood, devil, she-devil?" + +"Because I must fulfill a duty among men." + +"Who lays the task upon you, witch, devil?" + +"In my dream, soft voices have spoken to me, the voice of my +father, and of him whom I loved, and they said: 'Go among men, do +penance.'... But naked I cannot go among men, for they throw stones at +me. And therefore, O father, I come to you, and entreat you: give me +something to cover me! I have only my hair to hide me, and under my +hair I am naked. O father, give me something to cover me! O father, +give me your oldest mantle for my penance garb!" + +The hermit looked up at her, as she knelt in her fair hair, and he +saw that she was weeping. Her tears were blood-red rubies. + +"He who weeps rubies has committed great sin; he who weeps rubies +has a soul crimson with sin!" + +The penitent sobbed and bowed her head to the ground. + +"Here," said the hermit sternly, but compassionately. "Here is a +mantle. Here is a cord for your loins. And here is a mat to sleep +on. And here is bread, here is the water-pitcher. Eat, drink, cover +yourself, and rest." + +"Thanks, holy father. But I am not tired, I am not hungry and +thirsty. I am only naked, and I thank you for your mantle and your +cord." + +She put on the mantle as a penance-garb, and whilst, red with shame, +she covered herself, the hermit saw on her shoulder-blades two +blood-red scar-stripes. + +"Are you wounded?" + +"I was, long ago...." + +"Your eyes glow: have you a fever?" + +"I do not know men's fever, but my soul is always burning like a cave +in hell." + +"Who are you?" + +"One heavy burdened with sin." + +"What is your name?" + +"I have no name now, holy father.... Oh! ask no more.... And let +me go." + +"Whither are you going?" + +"Far, along the way of thistles, to the royal castle. To the Princess +Emeralda." + +"She is proud." + +"She is the Princess of the Jewel, and I weep jewels. I shed them +for her. Once there was a time ... that I wept pearls.... O father, +let me go!" + +"Go, then.... And do penance." + +"Thanks, father.... Oh, give me your blessing!" + +The hermit blessed her. She went then as a pilgrim in her +penance-garb. The path was steep and covered with thistles. + +In the distance was heard the song of the shepherds. + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +The path was steep, and covered with cactus and thistles. It was a +narrow path, hewn out of the rocks, winding up the basalt mountain, +where, high on the top, stood the castle. The castle had three +hundred towers, which rose to the sky; along them swept the clouds. In +the path were many steps hewn out of stone. Heavy masses of cactus +grew on the side of the precipice, and over the leaves, prickly and +round, Psyche saw the grassy valleys of the Kingdom of the Past, +the villages, the towns, the river: a broad silver streak, and there, +behind it, opal-like views, lakes in the sky, and quivering lines of +ether. Higher and higher she went up the steps, up the path, in the +gloomy, chilly shadow, whilst the sun shone over the meadows. She +climbed up, and below she saw the shepherds with their sheep, and +their song, quite faint, came up to her. + +In the coppice she broke a strong stick for a staff. A lappet of her +mantle she had drawn over her head as a hood. And with her staff and +her hood, she looked like a pious pilgrim. + +The solitary countryman who was coming down the rocky path, did not +throw stones at her, but greeted her reverently. + +She kept climbing up. + +High in the air lay the castle, gloomy and inaccessible, a town of +towers, a Babel of pinnacles; along it swept the clouds. As an innocent +child, as a naked princess with wings, Psyche had lived there like +a butterfly on a rock, had wandered along the dreadful parapets, +had longed and hoped and dreamed. Oh! her longings of innocence, +her hope to fly through the air to the opal islands, her dreams, +pure as the doves that flew round about her...! + +She had wandered through clouds, through desert and wood, from the +North to the South. She had loved the Chimera, had put questions to the +Sphinx; she had been Queen of the Present and the beloved of Bacchus, +and now ... now she came back, wingless, with a soul that burned her +continually, like a scarlet child of hell; now she came back up the +steep path.... + +Her penance-garb she had borrowed. But the thistles tore her foot, +and pale from pain and suffering, from wounded feet, and ever-smarting +shoulders, and a soul that burned continually, was her face, that +peeped out from under her wide hood. + +Up, up, she went, supporting herself with her staff.... + +Oh, the voice of her father, of Eros, in her dream, when the +grape-dance was over! Then repentance had begun. Then she had fled +through the wood, through the wild beasts. And the lion had licked +her foot, and the tigress had allowed her to rest in the warm lair +of her whelps.... + +Then she went on, climbing higher and higher.... + +Would she never get to the top? Would the castle, the Babel of +pinnacles, the town of towers remain ever inaccessibly high in +the clouds? + +Her step left blood behind on the rocky stone. + +But she did not rest. Rest did not help her. + +She preferred to go on, to climb. If she walked, if she climbed, +the sooner would she reach the castle. + +Step by step she advanced. Oh, she was no longer afraid of +Emeralda! What could Emeralda do to her to make her afraid? What +greater suffering could her sister inflict upon her than the pain of +remorse, that was ever with her wherever she went! + +And on she climbed, and the thistles tore her feet, and the solitary +man who was coming down the rocky path greeted her reverently, when +he saw the blood of her footstep. + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +The night was pitch dark, when she stood before the awful gate and +asked admittance. + +And the guards let her in because she wore a holy dress. The +halberdiers took her to the hall, where they slept or kept watch, +and invited her to rest. + +She sat down on a rude bench, she ate their brown soldier's bread, +she drank a drop of their wine. + +Then she offered them a ruby for their hospitality and evening meal. + +And while they wondered that a pilgrim possessed such a beautiful +jewel, she said in her strange voice, weak, tired, and yet commanding: + +"I have still more topazes and rubies and dark purple carbuncles. Tell +the princess that I have come to do her homage and give her my jewels." + +The message was sent to Emeralda, and the queen asked the pilgrim to +come. She sent pages to conduct her to the throne where she sat. + +And Psyche understood that Emeralda was afraid of treachery, afraid +of the approach of soul, and therefore was so surrounded by armed men. + +She passed between the pages, up the steps, over passages; then iron +gates were opened, and a curtain was drawn aside. + +And Psyche stepped into the golden hall of the tower. + +There sat Emeralda in the light of a thousand candles, on a throne, +under a canopy, surrounded by a great retinue. + +"Holy pilgrim!" said Emeralda, "be welcome! You have come to bring +me jewels?" + +A cold shiver ran like a serpent over Psyche's limbs, when she heard +Emeralda's voice. She had not thought that she would be afraid any +more of her proud sister, but now when she saw her and heard her voice, +she almost fainted from fear. + +For her look was most terrible. + +Emeralda had grown older, but she was still beautiful. Yet her beauty +was horrible. In the hall, lit up with thousands of candles, a hall of +gold and enamel, sat Emeralda like an idol on her throne of agate, in +a niche of jasper. There was nothing more human about her; she was like +a great jewel. She had become petrified, as it were, into a jewel. Her +eyes of sharp emerald looked out from her face, that was ivory white, +like chalcedony; from her crown of beryl there hung down her face six +red plaits of hair, as inflexible as gold-wire, and stiffly interwoven +with emeralds. Her mouth was a split ruby, her teeth glittered like +brilliants. Her voice sounded harsh and creaking, like the noise of +a machine. Her hands and inflexible fingers, stiff with rings, were +opal-white, with blue veins such as run through the opal. Her bosom, +opal, chalcedonic, was enclosed in a bodice of violet amethyst--and +over the bodice she wore a tunic of precious stones. Her dress was no +longer brocade, but composed of jewels. All the arabesque was jewels; +her mantle was jewelled so stiffly that the stuff could not bend, +but hung straight down from her shoulders like a long jewelled clock. + +And she was beautiful, but beautiful as a monster, preciously beautiful +as a work of art--made by one, both jeweller and artist, barbarously +beautiful, in the incrustations of her crown, the facets of her eyes, +the lapis lazuli of her stiffly folded under-garments, and all the +gems and cameos which bordered her mantle and dress. + +In the light of thousands of candles she glistened, a barbarous +idol, and shot forth rays like a rainbow, representing every colour; +dazzling, fear-inspiring was her look, pitiless and soulless. + +Proud she sat and motionless, glistening with lustre, oppressed by +the weight of her splendour; and covetous, her grating voice said +again eagerly: + +"Holy pilgrim, welcome! You have come to bring me jewels?" + +Psyche gained courage. + +"Yes," she said in a firm voice. "Powerful Majesty of the Past, +I come to do you homage and bring you jewels. But I beg that we may +be left alone." + +Emeralda hesitated; but when Psyche remained silent, her cupidity +got the better of her fear and she gave a sign. She raised her stiff +hand. And by that single movement she cracked and creaked with grating +jewels, and shot forth rays like the sun, which, like a nimbus, +streamed around her. + +Her suite disappeared through side-doors. The shield-bearers +withdrew. Psyche stood alone before her sister. And then Psyche +unfastened the cord round her waist and took off her mantle; her +long hair fell about her, and she was naked. Naked she stood before +Emeralda, and said: + +"Emeralda, don't you recognise me? I am Psyche, your sister!" + +A cry escaped the princess. She rose up; she creaked; her splendour +and pomp grated, and she glittered so, that Psyche was dazzled. + +"Wretched Psyche!" she exclaimed. "Yes, I know you! I have always +hated you, hated as I hate everything that is gentle, as I hate doves, +children, flowers! So you have deceived me, intruder! you bring me +no jewels!" + +Psyche knelt down and showed her open hand. + +"Emeralda, I offer you the homage which I once refused you. I present +you with topazes, rubies, and dark purple carbuncles. I kneel in +humility before you. I offer you my tears, which have turned into +stone, and I ask you humbly: punish me and give me a penance to +do. Look! I have lost my wings. I may not go naked any longer. I +have committed sin. Emeralda, make me do penance! Inflict on me the +heaviest that you can think of. If I can do it, I will do it. Lay a +heavy task upon my wingless shoulders." + +Emeralda looked down at kneeling Psyche. The princess approached +her sister, took the jewels, examined them attentively, held them +up to the light of the candles, and then dropped them into an open +casket. Thoughtfully she continued gazing at Psyche. And she seemed to +Psyche like a gigantic jewel-spider, watching from the midst of her +glittering web the rays of her own splendour. But whatever she were, +princess, sun, spider, or jewel, a woman she was not, a human being she +was not, and through the opal of her bosom gleamed her heart of ruby. + +Psyche, kneeling penitent, spoke not, awaiting her fate, and Emeralda +watched her. + +Thoughts, mechanical as wheels, rolled through her brain. She thought +as a machine. She was inexorable, because she had no feeling; she +thought inhumanly because she had no soul. Soulless she was and hard +as stone, but she was powerful, the mightiest ruler of the world. She +ruled with a movement, she condemned with a look, she could kill +with a smile; if she spoke a word, it was terrible; if she appeared +in public there was disaster; and if she rode through her kingdom in +a triumphal chariot, then everything was scorched by her lustre and +crushed under her triumph. + +At last she spoke, motionless like a spider in her web of glittering +rays, and her voice sounded like an oracle in a screeching incantation. + +"Psyche, fled from her father's house, fallen from all princely +dignity, dethroned Princess of the Present, immoral Bacchante, +corrupt and wingless, weeping tears of scarlet sin--listen! + +"Psyche, who wandered frivolously to purple streaks of sky, who +longed for the nothingness of azure and of light, who loved a horse, +who forsook her husband, who wandered and sought and asked, in desert +and in wood--wander, seek, and ask! + +"Wander, seek, and ask, till you find! + +"Wander along the flaming caves, seek in the fire-vomiting mouths of +monsters, ask of the martyred spirits, who roll upon the inky sea. + +"Descend to the Nether-world! Seek the Mystic Jewel, the Philosopher's +Stone that gives the highest omnipotence; seek the Mystic Jewel, +the rays of which reach to eternity and penetrate to the Godhead. + +"Descend, wander, ask, seek, and find!" + +Her voice grew terrible, and, screeching, she stepped nearer, and +with a look at the casket, said pitilessly: + +"Or ... weep for it ... suffer for it. I care not how much." + +She paused, and then in a voice of horrible hypocrisy, continued: + +"And then, if you bring me the Sacred Jewel, the name of which may +not be uttered...." She drew still nearer. + +... "Then be blessed, Psyche, and share with me, Emeralda, your sister, +the divine omnipotence!" + +Like an oracle sounded her hypocritical voice. She felt in Psyche +an unknown power; she feared for her soul, and wished to gain that +power for herself, to make sure of the two-fold omnipotence of the +world, both soul and body. And in the horrible penance which she laid +upon Psyche, she feigned tender love. Creaking and cracking, she drew +nearer, and in her web of rays shed a sunbeam over her kneeling sister, +and with her stiff opal fingers stroked the bent head with its fair, +long tresses. + +An ice-cold shiver ran through Psyche, as if her burning soul were +being frozen. + +"I obey," she murmured. + +And she rose up, intoxicated from splendour, stiff from icy +coldness. She tottered and shut her eyes. When she opened them, +she was in a gloomy ante-chamber, clad in her coarse mantle; and the +shield-bearers approached with torches. + +"Conduct me to Astra!" she commanded. + +There was something strange in her voice which made them obey, +the voice of a princess, the soft voice of command, which appealed +strangely to the men, as if they had heard it when they were pages. + +They conducted Psyche through halls, over passages, up steps, to +another tower. They opened low doors, and, through silent vaults, +guided the strange pilgrim, rich in rubies. + +"Who comes there?" asked a voice, tired, weak, and faint. + +Then the men left Psyche alone, and she was with Astra, and she saw her +sister in the twilight on the terrace, sitting before her telescope, +surrounded by globes and rolls of heavy parchment spread out. And +Psyche saw Astra, looking very old, with thin grey hair, which +hung down her wax-white face, from which two dull eyes stared out; +her white dress hung down limp on her sunken shoulders, her withered +breast, and attenuated limbs. Bitter dejection was in her dull eyes; +her thin hand hung down powerless, tired, and incapable of work, +and her voice, faint and weak, said: + +"Who comes there?" + +"I, Psyche, your little sister, come back, O Astra, as a penitent...!" + +"As a penitent?" + +"Yes, I fled, committed sin, and now I will do penance...." + +Astra mused. + +"It is true," she murmured. "I remember, little Psyche. Come +nearer. Take my hand, I cannot see you." + +"The night is dark, Astra: there are few stars in the sky, and the +torches are not yet lit...." + +"No? Is it dark about me? That does not matter, Psyche, for I cannot +see, I am blind...." + +Psyche gave a cry. + +"Astra! Poor sister, are you blind? Oh! you who could see so well! are +you blind?" + +"Yes, I have gazed myself blind!! I have turned my telescope from +left to right, to all the points of the universe. I thought to become +the centre, the kernel of science, the focus of brilliant knowledge; +now I am blind, now I see nothing more, now I know nothing more. The +colossal numbers have become confused in my brain since the living +Star on my head faded. Do you still see its faint splendour between +my grey hair? Ah! now I have your hand. + +"What is that, child? What round things are falling over my fingers?" + +"My tears, Astra, poor Astra!" + +"How hard they are and cold! What hard, cold tears, Psyche!... Sit +down here at my feet. Is the night dark? Are the torches not yet +lit? Well, let it be dark, for I see nothing; but I feel you, I feel +your hair; now I stroke your head, round and small. I feel along +your shoulders, Psyche, little child with wings.... But your wings +I do not feel.... Have you none now? Have they been cut off? My star +has faded, and your wings are cut; Emeralda triumphs alone! Her gift +from the fairy has brought her prosperity. Her heart of ruby feels +no pain; she is clad in the majesty of precious jewels. She is hard +and beautiful, hard as a stone, beautiful as a jewel.... Psyche, +creep close to me.... We can do nothing against her, child. My star +is faded, your wings clipt; we have lost our noble rights.... I am +old, but you--are you still young? You feel so young, indestructibly +young.... You have suffered so, asked and wandered.... not appreciated +your happiness, and murdered Eros! Poor child, you a murderess...! You +weep rubies ... you will do penance. You are strong, Psyche, and +always young.... You will do penance after all your sins! Emeralda +has laid penance on you.... To seek the Philosopher's Stone in the +caverns of flaming hell!! O Psyche, the Stone does not exist. The +unutterable name is a legend. The Jewel exists only in the pride of +man. The universe is limited, the Godhead is not limited; no rays from +precious stones can reach the Godhead and rule over God. No looking +through lenses of diamond can penetrate the Godhead. It is all pride +and vanity. Psyche, there is nothing but resignation. Emeralda is +powerful, but more powerful she cannot become.... + +"In vain will you seek." + +"Yet I will seek, Astra, although it be in vain.... And do you also, +sister, lay penance on me.... Let me do penance for Astra, as I do +for Emeralda." + +"No, child, I know no penance. There is nothing but resignation. There +is nothing but to wait. Everything else is vanity and pride. But do +penance, little Psyche. Penance is illusion, yet illusion is pleasant: +illusion ennobles. Believe, poor child, in your penance, believe in +your illusion. I have never known it. I have always calculated. The +colossal numbers roll through my dull and hazy brain in endless +series of figures. However you count, you never come to the sum of +the endless.... The stars cannot be counted. The farthest sun is +incomputable, the divine is limitless. Even the nearest frontier +of the Future is beyond computation. There is a sea of unfathomable +light.... O Psyche, I am tired, I am blind, and I shall soon die. In +this place, here I will stay. Psyche, look through the telescope. Is +the night too dark? Do you see anything?" + +"The stars give a dim light." + +"Look through the telescope. What do you see? Tell me, what do +you see?" + +"In the glass, right at the top, I see a dark spot, which emits a +few rays. Is that a black star?" + +"No, Psyche, that is a spider. Emeralda has sent a spider. The spider +has crawled to the top, along the smooth diamond; there the spider +weaves his web. And the diamond ... is crumbling to pieces....["] + +"Astra...!!" + +"Psyche, creep closer to me.... Let me feel your little round head, +your wingless shoulders...." + +"Astra, everything is black; clouds are drifting past the stars!" + +"Sleep thus in my mantle, sleep thus at my feet. Sleep, my little +child, and cover yourself for the night.... Psyche, your old nurse +is dead. Psyche, now I am your nurse.... Sleep now by blind Astra...." + +Feeling for Psyche, she threw her mantle round her. The night was +dark. Astra's powerless hand dropped over Psyche. Psyche fell asleep. + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +It was still dark when Psyche awoke. She looked up at Astra, who sat +sleeping, her grey head on her breast; faintly shone her star. Very +gently, so as not to wake her, Psyche rose, and left the terrace. She +knew the way. She went through the halls and passages, down the steps, +the endless steps. In the corners sat the sacred spiders, and wove.... + +Psyche went lower down, to the vaults. There burnt the everlasting +lamps. She went among the royal tombs, crystal sarcophagi, and found +her father's coffin. By the lamp, which was always kept burning, +she recognised his embalmed, rigid face. The eyes were closed. He +knew nothing about her: that she had gone away and come back. Death +was between them, and severed them forever. + +She kissed the glass, and her tears, round, hard, and red, clattered +on the crystal. + +She knelt down and tried to pray. In a corner of the vault a black +spot moved. It was a big spider with a white cross on its body. + +"So, you have come back again.... I knew that you would come. We can +escape from nothing. Everything happens as it happens. Everything +is as it is. Everything goes to dust; into the pits of the Past, +into the power of Emeralda.... Now become a spider like us, weave +your web, and be wise...." + +Psyche got up. + +"No...!" she exclaimed, "I will not become a spider, I will weave no +web. I have sinned, but I will weave no web; I have sinned and will +do penance. The world is awful--desert and wood and space; life is +awful--love and pain, joy and despair, sin and punishment. And if fate +is as it is, it is in vain to weave a web and to heap up treasures of +dust. Spider, were it not more human to love, to live, and even to sin, +than to weave web upon web? Spider, I envy you not your sacredness...!" + +The spider puffed itself out maliciously. + +"You seem to be still proud of your murder and your immorality and +shamelessness! Your princely name you have dragged through the mire, +your wings you have given up for a panther's skin and a grape-wreath, +and know not yet what repentance is. If you had been wise and become +a spider, you would have served Emeralda, and there would have been +no need to go down to the Under-world!" + +But Psyche was no longer afraid. She had come to kiss her father's +coffin; she left her jewelled tears in the treasure, which the spiders +watched over, and ascended the hundreds of steps and came on to the +terrace of the battlements. + +There as a child she had wandered and gazed, a child with wings, +and innocent, her soul full of dreams. Now she wandered again along +the ramparts and battlements high as a man; the doves fluttered about +her, the swans looked up at her ... and full of dejection for former +innocence and youth, she wept and wept: no longer a brook, but topazes, +rubies, tears of sin, that, rattling down, frightened the doves and +the swans, which, indignant, thought that she was pelting them with +stones. The doves flew away, and the swans, offended, turned their +backs on her. Then she sat down in an embrasure--no wings now lay +against the stone-work--and she folded her arms round her knees. She +looked towards the horizon; behind it loomed other horizons, first +pink, then silver; blue, then gold; behind the grey, pale and misty, +and then fading away. Then beyond, the horizon became milk-white, like +an opal, and in the reflection of the last rays of the setting sun, +it seemed as if lakes were mirrored there; islands rose in the air, +aerial paradises, watery streaks of blue sea, oceans of ether and +light-quivering nothingness. + +And Psyche bowed her head, full of sadness, and sobbed. + +The world was not changed, but more beautiful than ever; gloriously +beautiful loomed the ever-changing horizon. Yet Psyche sobbed, full +of sadness. She knew that the horizons were pure delusions, and that +behind them was the desert with the Sphinx. Oh! if she could once more +believe in the aerial paradises, the purple seas, the golden regions +with people of light, who lived under rosy bananas! Alas! had she not +trod a paradise, the sweet Present, the adorable garden of a moment, +so little and so short in duration? It was past, it was past! Oh, +how her soul scorched, how her shoulders pained, how her eyes burned! + +She wept and she sobbed, and hid her face in her hands. She did not +notice that the wind was rising, that the horizon quivered, that +clouds were speeding through the air, white colossi like towers and +dragons, riders and horses. She did not see the changes in the sky; +she did not see the going up and down of wings, of flaming wings in +the silver lightning, that flashed from the sky; she did not hear +the warning thunder, nor did she see the clouds emitting sparks. But +suddenly she distinctly heard a voice: + +"Psyche! Psyche!" + +She looked up. Before her, she saw descending on broad wings a steed +of pure light and flame. And she uttered a cry, that sounded in the +air like an endless shout of gladness: + +"Chimera!" + +It was he. He descended. The basalt terrace trembled, as though shaken +by an earthquake; under his hoofs the stone shot sparks, and he stood +before her resplendent and beautiful. + +"Chimera!" she cried, and folded her hands and sank down before him +on her knees. + +She could say nothing else. She was dazzled, and it seemed as though +her soul ascended heavenward in the pure delight of love. + +"Psyche!" sounded his voice of bronze, "I have come down, for I love +you. But I may not bear you any more on my back through the delusive +regions of air, because you have committed sin. Psyche, it is your +bounden duty to obey Emeralda's command. Go down to Hell and seek +the Jewel." + +"Chimera, adored one, delight of my soul, oh, your splendour fills +my eyes! Your word gives strength to my weakness! I feel it! You +may not bear me away; I am unworthy of your wings. But I adore and +bless you for coming! Chimera, Chimera, your splendour has beamed +once more upon me! your voice has inspired me, and I will do what you +say.... You let the light of hope break in upon me; new strength flows +through my limbs. Chimera, I hope, I hope! I will go down into Hell; +I will seek.... Shall I find? I know not.... But I hope! The horizon +is quivering with hope and ether and the Future! + +"Psyche!" sounded his voice again like bronze, "be strong! Take +heart! Descend! Do penance! Seek...! Once more you will see me...." + +"Once more!" + +"Be strong, take heart, do penance!" + +He ascended, whilst Psyche remained kneeling. When he was high +in the air, there came a peal of thunder, as if the heavens would +burst asunder. The sky was dark, but lit up by the lightning. In the +black sky, in the lightning flame, rose fearfully the three hundred +towers. And the thunder-claps rumbled on, one after the other, as if +the Past were perishing in the last day.... + +With a joyful cry, Psyche hastened along the terraces, the battlements, +ramparts, entered the castle, and went down the steps. Lower and lower +she descended, lower than the vaults; and as she passed them, she +threw a kiss in the direction where the old king lay buried.... She +descended still lower, and yet she heard the thunder pealing above, +and the castle seemed to tremble to its very foundations. + +She descended still lower: she descended very deep pits, built like +towers reversed to the central nave of the earth. She descended step +after step, thousands of steps, groping in the darkness. She walked +with unerring foot, that felt for the next step, that detected the +slippery stone; she felt and never hesitated. Another step and then +another; again a pit, pit after pit, all the pits of the Past. Bats +flew up and flapped their wings, spiders she felt crawling over her, +an icy dampness fell like a chill wind upon her shoulders. + +Deeper down she went, and deeper. It was pitch dark, and above she +heard nothing more; she heard only the flapping of the gigantic bats, +the droning of the envious spiders. But she defended herself with +her little hand; as she descended, she beat about her, beat the bats +away, seized a vampire, held it tightly by the neck, and strangled +it. Her foot glided over toads, she slipped over snakes, but she got +up again and beat the bats and fought with the vampires. The Chimera +had so inspired her with strength, that she felt strong as a giant, +young and courageous; he had filled her eyes with such light that +she saw him in the darkness. + +In the pitchy darkness his flaming wings were distinctly visible. And +on she went descending; thick clouds of dust, the deepest shadows of +Emeralda's transitoriness, rose up, but she kept breathing, never +hesitating, and her foot felt instinctively the next step, and she +struck at the bats and fought with the vampires. When she throttled +them, a human cry was heard, and the echo sounded a thousand times +like the anxious cry of a murder. But she was not afraid. She kept +on descending.... + +She kept descending. At last she felt no more steps but voidness +under her feet, and she sank ... like a feather, through heavier air; +she sank, she sank deeper and deeper, deeper and deeper.... A black +draught of air, an invisible wind, damp and chill, made her feel +that she had passed all the pits, that she was sinking outside them +in the open air, invisible and black, thick as ink. Then she began +to sink more slowly, and ... her feet touched ground. + +Sounds soft and low, like the plaintive strains of a viol, rose up +from afar, like music of the sea, the plaint of a thousand voices +which never became melody. + +The far-off sound continued quivering as an accompaniment of wind, of a +black wind which blew, and overpowered the music of the sea. Sometimes +it went a little higher, sometimes a little lower, and always remained +the vague and distant incomprehensible harmony. + +From where the wind came, from where the plaintive murmuring arose, +thither would Psyche go. And with her foot she kept feeling, and with +her outstretched hands, and on she went.... + +Long, long she went in the darkness, till the darkness became less +opaque and lit up with phosphoric flickerings; and she saw: + +That she was ascending a path between two inky seas. + +Black as ink were the waves. + +Then she heard them roaring; then she saw their crests lit up with +a blue phosphorescent glow. + +Then she heard the soft, low sounds, the plaintive viols swell, +till they became a dull, continuous soughing. + +The black wind rose as with a gigantic sail, and suddenly blew the +hurricane. + +In the pitch-dark air, the lightning flashed blue. + +And between the two inky seas, Psyche went slowly on, against the +gusts of wind. + +Then she uttered a cry, as though she were calling.... + +The hurricane took her cry for help over the endless sea of +Hell.... And from all sides dived up the gruesome frights--leviathan +monsters. They opened their jaws at Psyche, and the water streamed +out. Their scaly tortuous bodies wound along over the black surface +of the ocean, and on the horizon, lit up with phosphorous blue, their +tails meandered. They came from the horizon, they dived up and down, +and the ocean dived with them. Storm-flood, waterfall--storm-flood, +waterfall.... They spread out their dragon wings, and caught up the +boisterous wind; they shot up waterspouts like towering fountains, +of a blue and yellowish hue. Their round squinting eyes stood out +watchful, like green and yellow signals; they lifted their red-lobed +jaws, abysses of red-slimy desires, bubbling with foamy slaver. + +"Monsters of the sea of pain, where shall I find the Jewel for +Emeralda?" + +Psyche asked the question in a high, musical key, and her voice rang +out clearly in the hurricane and plaintive moanings of the sea. Her +high soprano sounded above all the roaring of the elements and +plaintive cries; and three times she repeated the question: + +"Monsters of the sea of pain, where shall I find the Jewel for +Emeralda?" + +The leviathans pressed together along the path that Psyche trod. But +amidst the noise of their tossing and snorting and spouting, she +heard the plaintive sea swelling, the sea of plaintive voices; and +then in the blue phosphorescent glow between the monsters, she saw +the drowned shades heaving to and fro, always writhing in fear, always +drowning in the inky sea; the everlasting wailing of the plaintive sea, +the cry of souls in pain; the gigantic plaintive viol, with strings +ever playing.... + +"Vanity, vanity!" + +Did she hear aright? + +It was one single sound, like a note repeated again and again. "Vanity, +vanity!" was the inexorable answer, first vague as a dream, mystic as +a thought, sounding more distinctly as an admonition against worldly +pride. And so distinct did the sound become, that Psyche, brave Psyche, +who feared neither vampire nor monster of the deep ... that courageous +Psyche hesitated and felt all her strength giving way.... + +"If it were vanity to seek, to ask for the Jewel, how much farther +should she go?" + +"Should she go back?" + +She looked round. + +But she saw what made her soul sink within her. + +She saw that behind her step, the seas immediately closed till they +became one single sea of ink; she saw that the only path for her +stretched across the seas, that behind her it immediately sank away. + +She could not go back, she must go on. + +And she buoyed up her sinking soul; she went on, and in a high soprano +voice repeated again and again her question: + +"Spirits in the sea of pain, where shall I find the Jewel for +Emeralda?" + +"Vanity, vanity!" + +The plaintive viol kept trembling, and the same sound sounded ever, +the unchangeable answer. The hurricane was no longer chill, but warm, +sultry, strangely sultry; more and more sultry blew the everlasting +cyclone. + +The sea-monsters kept back; they dived again below; the sea +sank with them, the shades swayed to and fro in storm-flood, +waterfall--storm-flood, waterfall, and many-headed hydras came +sinuously up. The sea no longer shone with phosphorescent glow, but +was quite black, pitch black, black as boiling pitch, without foam +and without light, and kept sending up a discharge of miry, vaporous +matter. In the boiling pitch, the hydras, with their thousand snaky +heads, kept diving up, tortoise-scaled; swayed to and fro, to and fro +the pale faces of the shades, but ever sounded the plaintive viol, +and ever rang forth the same note, the unchangeable answer to Psyche's +shrill question: + +"Hydras of the sea of pain, spirits in the sea of pain, where shall +I find the Jewel for Emeralda...??" + +"Vanity, vanity...!" + +The pitch seethed and hissed and steamed. + +It was no longer a sea of water, no longer a sea of pitch; + +It was a sea of nothing but flame, pitch-black flame, a sea of +jet-black fire, fire and flame, that waved from the horizon, where a +single streak of pale light appeared. In the black flames burned the +shades, in the black flames wound the hydras in and out; the thick +smoke shot up into the clouds, and the clouds sent it back again.... + +"Spirits in the pitch-black flames, where shall I find the Jewel +for Emeralda...???" + +"Vanity, vanity...!" + +The hurricane kept blowing, the plaintive viol kept trembling, and +ever sounded the same note, the unchangeable answer. But scorchingly, +more scorchingly blew the wind, like a tempest from a sun for ever +doomed. The black night now assumed a dark-purple aspect, like purple +steam; the clouds drove a bloody vapour into the heavens. + +And on either side of Psyche's path suddenly shot out the flaming +hurricane of the sun, gigantic purple tongues of fire, scarlet and +orange. The lower clouds drove them back, and when Psyche looked round, +she stood in a flaming fire. The flaming hurricane seethed round her; +behind her feet the path was on fire. The air was fire. But Psyche, +whose own soul was on fire, in her own scorching fire of remorse, +felt not the glowing heat, and she saw, + +Out of the living scarlet craters, the orange caves, the hellish +chimeras working up their sinuous way like glowing spirals: half +arabesque, half beast; half dragon, half tail; flaming sea-horses. They +spat and fanned the glowing fire, and, riding aloft on the burning +hurricane, the shades swept past Psyche. + +"Spirits in the scarlet flames...." + +"Vanity, vanity!" + +This was the only answer, that sounded afar off in her ears, the +answer of the tortured, angry spirits, which in the strength of their +sin and passion came flying up from the craters. + +On she went.... + +She went on along the path that unfolded before her. + +How confidently she went on, how calmly! Why was she not +afraid? Oh! she knew too much to be afraid and not to go +on in confidence. Was the answer not always more distinct and +unchangeable? Psyche's soul breathed freely, and in the fire around her +her own fire seemed to diminish. For when the fire round her became +yellower, sulphur-yellow, pure yellow, the pure golden yellow of the +sun, then she uttered a cry of joy, as though she knew the answer: + +"Spirits in the sulphur flames, spirits in the sun's flames...!" + +She smiled.... Smiling, she hastened on, with joyful voice, with winged +step; and so rapidly did she flee along the path smoothed out small +for her foot, that behind her the answer could scarcely reach her. + +"Vanity, vanity!" + +Oh! it was always the plaintive viol, but the too poignant grief +was tempered with melancholy; the plaintive sea became like a sea +of melancholy; the thousands of voices were full of melancholy. And +when the flames became less dense and lighter, when they changed +from sulphur yellow to soft azure, a flaming sea of azure, in the +silent dawning moonlight scenery, high, broad, blue flaming tongues +that shot from the moon--when the hellish hurricane no longer raged, +but gave away to a more benign breeze--then Psyche asked no more in +so shrill a key, but knowing all, her voice murmured dejectedly: + +"Spirits in the azure flames, where shall I find the Jewel for +Emeralda?" + +The melancholy viol vibrated more gently; the spirits rocking to and +fro in the thin blue fire sang more softly: + +"That is vanity, Psyche; that is vanity...." + +She uttered her jubilant cry, and hastened on with uplifted arms +through the azure moon-flames. The firmament spread out in higher +circles and formed wider spheres; + +The flames became clearer and clearer; more benignly blew the breeze; + +And pale, the spirits flitted to and fro: pale shades with melancholy +eyes, singing their song of painful remembrances.... + +And the spirits looked at Psyche--the spirits smiled benignly on her, +astonished that she was still alive. + +They pointed for her to go on farther and farther; they nodded to her, +"On! on!" + +And she gave a loud cry of joy and hastened on.... + +She sped through the flames and shades; + +Till the flames were still, and high and white; + +High, still, white flames, like sacrificial flames, like altar flames, +high in the sky, the lofty sky, the wide sky; the wide expanse full +of white flame, still, white, ascending, purifying flames, refined +and clear, over the whole wide expanse, the wide refining expanse.... + +Once more she asked the pale shades, who swarmed about between the +flames, hand in hand, who swayed continually to and fro between +the flames: + +"Spirits in the white flames, pure white, in the white flames, where +shall I find the Jewel for Emeralda?" + +"Vanity, vanity!" sang the shades softly and quietly, and in the +answer, calm and assuring, of the expectant penitents, vibrated the +great viol with a sound like a soft jubilant trill. + +Psyche asked no more. She slackened her speed and began to walk, +her arms raised, her head erect, through the silvery flames. Oh, the +dear, tender flames, the adorable purifying flames! how they cooled, +in their snow-white glow, the burning remorse of her soul! + +How freely Psyche breathed, in the innocently white glowing fire! Like +lilies were the tongues of flame, fragrant and soothing as balsam, +cool and fresh as snow ... cold as water, as foam. The white flames +foamed and rippled like a sea, lower and smoother, quieter and more +serene; they rippled like a sea of lilies, like a sea of silver +snow.... They became moisture and water and foaming ocean, the tender +element of gentle compulsion, carrying along as an irresistible dream, +white as paradise, and, as slightly rippling waves of foam, they bore +Psyche away. + +On the foaming waves Psyche drifted along, all white in the golden +boat of her fair hair. So gently did they rock her, the foaming, +rippling waves, that Psyche shut her eyes. Sleep was stealing over +her. Her lips smiled with inward peace. + +The waves bore her away, the sea washed her ashore. She awoke from +her slumber, pearl-white she rose from the foam, amidst the joyful +dolphins. + +She stepped out of the sea on to the land. She felt quite cool, and +her soul was calm and peaceful, full of reassuring, holy knowledge. But +within her was a great desire. + +Smiling, she stretched out her arms. She yearned for the desire of +her heart.... + +"Not yet ... not yet," was whispered tenderly to her cool and peaceful +soul. "Wait, wait...." sounded the echo. + +In the silent joy of her soul, she wept. She lifted her hand to her +eyes; wet were her tears, and in her hand ... lay a pearl...! + +Then she looked round. She recognised the sea-shore with its many bays, +the shore of the Kingdom of the Past. There, on the opal-blue horizon, +loomed a town of minarets and pinnacles, of cupolas and obelisks, +surrounded with golden walls. + +That was the capital of the kingdom. Thither she would repair. + +There, proud and peaceful, still and cool, she would say to Emeralda, +her powerful sister, + +That her Jewel was vanity. That the gem did not exist. + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +When Psyche approached the capital, she heard at the gates the excited +cries of festive merry-makers. Outside the gates flocked the noisy +crowd, dressed in all the colours of the rainbow, and bedecked with +flowers, singing and dancing, but not knowing why. Everywhere was +bustle and commotion; on the roadside sat hundreds of hucksters, +and women extolling their wares--glasses with jewels and fruit, +cooling drinks, dresses and flowers. In a shrill key they praised +their wares; they spread out their stuffs with much ado, and offered +the people flowers, and poured them out wine, and held up strings of +glass pearls and cheap necklaces of coins. + +Psyche was naked, and she veiled herself in her hair; she spread over +the marks on her shoulders her golden mantle of hair, and as many of +the dancing girls, some half naked and others quite, danced round, +hand in hand, people thought that she was naked, only because she was +so fair--Psyche, so pearl-white in her golden hair. She was not wont +to be ashamed of nakedness, which was once her right, her privilege +as a princess; but now under the eyes of the people she blushed, and +walked with downcast eyes. Then she turned to a saleswoman and asked: + +"What is the feast for?" + +"Where do you come from? 'What is the feast for!' Don't you know +anything about it?" + +"I come from the other side of the sea...." + +"'What is the feast for!' It is the great festival: it is the Festival, +the Jubilee-festival, of Emeralda. It is the Triumphal Procession of +the Queen!!" + +.... "It is the Triumphal Procession of the Queen!" resounded on all +sides. They danced and sang: + +.... "It is the Triumphal Procession of the Queen!" + +They were drunk with joy, dizzy from strange joy; but Psyche suddenly +saw that they were deadly pale and frightened, deadly pale under +paint and flowers, and frightened whilst they danced round in a ring. + +"I have no dress for the occasion; give me that veil of golden +gauze!" said Psyche to the saleswoman. + +"That is very dear!" + +"I will pay you for it with this pearl." + +.... "With that pearl! Are you a princess, then!" + +Psyche then took the veil, and she bound it round her loins, just as +she used to do before. + +"I will give you a wreath of fresh roses as well!" said the woman, +pleased, and put the flowers on her head. + +She smiled, and it suddenly occurred to her that she was decked out +with those flowers as a victim for the altar; that all the people +who were making merry and dancing were bedecked as victims. She went +on. Through the round gold gate she entered the city; the squares +were seen in the distance, connected with very broad streets; square +palaces of marble and bronze, of jasper and malachite, round cupolas +and finely pointed minarets, glistered in the sun as if conjured up by +magic. They stretched far away, and right behind the blue mountains +rose the royal castle, a Babel of pinnacles and towers innumerable, +almost indiscernible in the distance, with square ramparts and walls, +and lofty summits lost in the rising mist. And along the squares, over +palaces, and on the minarets, hung the thick festoons of flowers, +as though the towns were decked out for an offering. Close up to +the castle, Babel of pinnacles, the festoons of flowers seemed to +reach. And in the squares the dancers threw flowers into the air, +and it seemed as if white roses were raining down from heaven. To the +sound of tabour and cymbals, the people danced madly round, and ever +was heard the same cry: + +"It is the Triumphal Procession of the Queen!" + +Then Psyche, in the secret depths of her heart, saw clearly and +indubitably what it all meant. As she went along with the dense crowds +of noisy, shouting merry-makers, she saw all the people in the town +trembling with fear, which made the blood congeal in their veins. + +Their eyes, through fear, were ready to start out of their sockets; +their teeth chattered; their limbs, bedecked with flowers, trembled; +the sun was shining, but everyone was shivering with cold. + +But no one spoke of his trembling, and they danced, madly drunk with +foolish joy, and they kept shouting the same thing: + +"It is the Triumphal Procession of the Queen!!!" + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +A great commotion was going on in the direction of the castle. In +that direction all eyes were turned, and the dancing girls forgot to +dance. From fear, the crowd stood still, as if petrified, and forgot +to conceal the anxiety of their minds. The palaces seemed to tremble; +the air-atoms quivered audibly. Something dreadful was about to happen. + +The royal castle shone with a strange lustre; a sun seemed to send +forth a halo; an ominous aureola appeared in the distance. The fearful +rays of the Sun of Consternation outshone the day, outshone the sun: +from their centre, they penetrated through houses and people. + +And everything shone, softened by the glow of piercing sunbeams. The +rays quivered everywhere in the air, and the aureola filled the world. + +The cause of consternation came rattling on with the rapidity of +an arrow. + +All hearts stood still, all breath was taken away, all dancing was +stopped, all rejoicing ceased. + +From the castle, over the triumphal way, a triumphal chariot rattled +along with the speed of an arrow. On the top, a living jewel, stood +Emeralda, and guided the four and twenty steeds. It was her splendour +and her aureola which appeared in the air. It was her rays which +caused the houses to shine with splendour and pierced the people with +flashes. She stood immovable, clad in the strength of precious stones, +in a tunic of sapphire, in a robe of brilliants, with deep flounces +of gems and white cameos; her mantle was like a bell, with folds of +purple carbuncle, lined with enamelled ermine. From her crown of +beryl, from her heart of ruby, the rays shot forth, shone out her +fear-inspiring aureola and streamed over the town and in the air, +eclipsing the sun, which turned pale. Her eyes of emerald, stars +in her opal face, chalcedonic, looked inexorable, and her bosom of +precious stones heaved not. Only her heart of ruby beat regularly, +and then her lustre grew alternately dim and bright.... + +She stood immovable and guided her horses, her four and twenty foaming +stallions, rearing greys, which drew her triumphal car, like a broad +enamelled shell on innumerable wheels, on cutting wheels so numerous, +that they seemed to run into one another--a turning confusion of +spokes. + +The dazzling, fear-inspiring chariot rattled on with the rapidity of +an arrow. And suddenly, awaking from their stupefaction, the people +madly danced again and shouted the same jubilant cry. The tabours +sounded, the white roses rained down, and before the queen the people +prostrated themselves and paved her path with their bodies. The grey +stallions foamed and reared; they came on, they came on, they trampled +over the first bodies--men and women, girls and children, dressed for a +festival and bedecked with flowers.... Over her people rode Emeralda; +the innumerable wheels rattled, a confusion of spokes, revolving, +cutting furrows in flesh and blood, reducing blood and human flesh +to a muddy mass. But farther up they danced, farther up they sang, +before casting themselves down for her Triumph.... + +Then Emeralda, looking over her triumphal way, saw, with the keen +glance of her black carbuncle pupil, a little form, naked and fair, +who lifted up her small, child's hand. + +And fiercer and fiercer gleamed her heart of ruby, for she had +recognised the form. + +And the desire flamed up in her: the thirst for more power and to +become like a god. + +Emeralda recognised Psyche. And she reined in her twelve pair +of horses, she drove them more slowly, and under the less quickly +revolving wheels she heard the jubilant cry of the dying people. The +blood dropped from the wheels, but the roses rained down and covered +the horrible sight. On the bloody, muddy mass, the roses rained down, +white, from the balconies of the palaces. + +Emeralda stopped. + +Under her, death was silent. + +Around, the town was silent. She alone reigned and shot out her +terrible fan of rays, which scorched the houses and pierced the air. + +And before her, at a little distance, stood Psyche, proud, pearl-white, +crowned with roses, in a veil of gold. + +And the silent crowd recognised in her the third princess of the +kingdom. + +"Psyche!" said Emeralda, and her voice sounded loud through the town +from the focus of her rays, "have you come to bring me the unutterable +Jewel, the Gem of Power, the Bestower of Universal Power, the sacred +Stone of Mysticism? Have you found the Mystery of the Godhead, and, + +"--Do you rule with me the Universe and God?" + +The town shuddered and quivered. The people were stupefied. + +The air-atoms trembled audibly. + +Then Psyche's voice sounded clearly, silver-clearly, from the +consciousness of the wisdom and sacred knowledge which she possessed. + +"Emeralda, for you I have gone through Hell along the black seas, +oceans of pitch, along the horrible sloughs of flaming hurricanes, +along the craters and caverns scarlet and yellow, along the azure fires +and through the white and lilac glow. Give heed to what I say. Hell +answered 'Vanity!' when I asked for the Jewel; the leviathans roared +'Vanity!'; the chimeras hissed 'Vanity!'; the spirits cried 'Vanity!'; +and the whole plaintive viol trilled: + +"'Vanity!' + +"Do you understand me, Emeralda? Your wish was Vanity, for the mystic +Jewel that bestows godlike power is Vanity, and.... Does not Exist." + +Then it was terrible. The queen, a living idol, burned with rage, +blazed with rage; her heart was inflamed with rage. + +Around her, decked out for sacrifice, in festive garb, in the +sunshine and her own dazzling splendour, her people trembled with +fear. And cruelty gleamed in her fixed face; her emerald eyes started +so revengefully from their sockets as though blinded by their own +splendour, and she pulled at the numerous reins.... + +The horses reared, the white roses fell down, the people screamed +with joy and the fear of death, and the triumphal chariot rattled on. + +Swift as an arrow it thundered on over the people, who paved the way +in ecstacy, and Psyche saw the maddened horses approaching, snorting, +foaming, panting, trampling, pulling, their eyes round and mad.... + +For a moment she stood firm, proud, tall, pearl-white in the sacred +knowledge she possessed; then the angry hoofs struck her down, and the +horses trampled her as a flower. Emeralda's chariot rattled over her, +with its many cutting wheels, and whilst she died like a crushed lily, +trampled in her own lily-whiteness, she thought of her old father, +and how she had crept to his breast and hidden her face in his beard, +before she went to sleep at night.... + +She died.... But while she lay trampled to death in the mud of human +flesh and blood, and the sacrificial roses kept falling down over +her corpse unrecognisable---- + +She returned to life, hovering through the air, and felt so light +and unencumbered, and was whiter than ever and naked. + +And on her tender shoulders she felt two new wings quivering...! + +She hovered over her own body into a drifting cloud, a mist of +fragrance, which farther on she lost sight of; and light, white, +and rarefied, she looked wonderingly at her trampled body and +laughed. Strange, clear, and childlike sounded her laugh in the cloud +and vapoury fragrance.... + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +The triumphal chariot rattled on madly. Emeralda stretched out her +sceptre, on the top of which glowed a star of destroying rays. When +she stretched out the sceptre and directed the rays, she scorched +monuments, palaces, and parks to a white ash, and, for her cruel +jubilant procession, she cut down everything that came in her way. The +thick white ashes flew up like dust; the jubilant multitude were +scorched; the palaces of jaspar and malachite shrivelled up like +burnt paper; the breath of the horses blew away, like ash, the white +burnt gardens. And right over everything went Emeralda, scorching +as she went. Powerful, foolish, arrogant, and proud she was, and +more unfeeling than ever, spiteful and cruel, hurt in her pride; +and she scorched, and made the way smooth before her. Behind her +lay all the town, and she drove through her kingdom, filling the air +with her rays. She drove through valleys and burnt up the harvest; +she reduced villages to dust; she dried up rivers; and before her, +the mountains split asunder. + +Her sceptre made a way for her, and no law of nature resisted her +power. The air was grey with the clouds of ash, which rained down +upon the earth. + +She went along as swiftly as an arrow, swiftly as lightning, swiftly +as light, swiftly as thought. She went so swiftly, that in a single +hour she had gone all round her wide kingdom intoxicated with the +pride of annihilation, and she drove her maddened horses through +endless plains of sand. + +Desert after desert she consumed; the lions fled before her; she +overtook them in a moment; clouds of sand she sent up into the air.... + +But then she relaxed her speed. She stopped. + +Before her, grey and high through the clouds of sand and falling ash, +there loomed a most dreadful shadow. + +The shadow was like a gigantic beast, squatting in the sand, +with a woman's head in a stiff basalt veil. The woman's head had +a woman's breast, two basalt breasts of a gigantic woman. But the +body that squatted in the sand was a lion, and the paws stuck out +like walls. And so great was the shadow, so monstrous the beast, +that even the triumphal chariot of Emeralda appeared small. + +"Sphinx!" said Emeralda, "I will know. I am powerful, but there is +power above me. There are spheres above mine, and there are gods +above my divinity. There are laws of nature which my sceptre cannot +alter. Sphinx, tell me the riddle. Reveal to me the place where the +Jewel lies hidden, which gives almighty power over the world and God, +so that I may find it and become the mightiest of all gods. Sphinx, +answer me, I say! Open your stony lips and let your voice once +more be heard, that shall make the world tremble with wonder. For +centuries you have not spoken. Sphinx, speak now! For if you do not +speak, Sphinx, and reveal to me where the Jewel lies hidden, then, +great and terrible as you are, I will scorch you to a white ash and +go over you in triumph. Sphinx, speak!" + +The Sphinx was silent. The Sphinx looked with stony eyes at the clouds +of sand and raining ash. Her basalt lips remained shut. + +"Sphinx, speak!!" said Emeralda, threateningly and red with rage. + +The Sphinx spoke not and looked. + +Emeralda stretched out her sceptre and directed the destroying rays. + +The rays split on the basalt with crackling sparks like flashes of +forked lightning. Emeralda uttered a cry, hoarse and terrible. She +threw away her broken sceptre. But of her greater power she did not +doubt, and for the last time she threatened. + +"Terrible Sphinx, tremble! I am more terrible than you!! Speak, +Sphinx!!" + +The Sphinx was silent. + +Then Emeralda tugged at the reins. + +The maddened horses reared, snorting, foaming, panting, trampling, +pulling, and dashed against the Sphinx. + +But the foremost horses were dashed to pieces against the god-like +basalt. + +Then Emeralda uttered cry after cry, one hoarse cry after another, +which resounded through the desert. She tugged at the reins; the +horses, despairing of their attack against the immovable, drove +at the Sphinx, and fell back crushed, falling over one another and +trampling one another to death; the triumphal chariot split, and the +splinters of sparkling jewels flew up like cracking fireworks, and +Emeralda fell between the still revolving wheels. And her heart of +ruby broke. All her dazzling splendour suddenly faded. The terrifying +fan-like aureola suddenly grew dim, and the desert was grey and gloomy, +with a gentle rain of thick white ash falling down. + +The Sphinx was silent, and looked on.... + + + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + + +Psyche was alive again, soaring through the air, and felt so light +and ethereal; pearl-whiter she was than ever, and naked. + +And on her tender shoulders she felt two new wings fluttering...! + +She hovered away over her own dead body into a drifting cloud, +a fragrant mist, which farther on she lost sight of; and light, +white, and ethereal, she looked with wonder at her trampled corpse +and laughed.... + +Strange, clear, and childlike sounded her laugh in the cloud and +vapoury fragrance.... + +"Psyche!" + +She heard her name, but so dazzled and astonished was she, that +she did not see. Then the wind blew about her; the cloud moved, +the fragrance ascended like incense, and she saw many like herself, +restored to life, hovering in the fragrant cloud, and round her she +distinguished the outlines of well-known faces. + +"Psyche!" + +She recognised the voice, deep bronze, but yet strange. And the wind +blew about her and she saw a bright light before her, and recognised +the Chimera! + +"You promised me: once more!" exclaimed Psyche joyfully. + +She threw herself on to his back, she clung to his mane, and he +soared aloft. + +"Where am I?" said Psyche. "Who am I? What has happened? And what is +going on around me? Am I dead, or do I live? Chimera, how rarefied +is the air! how high you ascend! Are you going to ascend higher, +higher still? Why is everything so dazzlingly bright about us? Is +that water, or air, or light? What strange element is this? Who are +going up with us--ethereal faces, ethereal forms? And what is the +viol that is playing? + +"I heard that once before. Then it sounded plaintively; now it has +a joyous sound! + +"Chimera, why is the air so full of joy here...? Look! below us is +the Kingdom of the Past. + +"It lies in a little circle, and the castle is a black dot. Chimera, +where are you going so high? We have never been so high +before. Chimera, what are those circles all round us, the splendour +of which makes me giddy? Are those spheres? Do they get wider and +wider? Oh, how wide they get, Chimera, how wide! How high it is here, +how wide, how rarefied and how light is the air! I feel myself also so +light, so ethereal! Am I dead...? Chimera, look! I have two new wings, +and I shine pearl-white all over. Do I not shine like a light? It +is true I have been very sinful. But I was what I had to be! Is it +good to be what we have to be? I do not know, Chimera: I have thought +of neither good nor bad; I was only what I was. But tell me, who am +I now, and what am I? And where are you taking me to, Chimera? You +carry me so quietly, so safely; up and down go your wings, up and +down. The stars are twinkling round us; around us whirl the spheres, +and wider and wider they become...! How light, how ethereal! What is +that I see on the horizon? Or is it not the horizon? Opal islands, +aerial oceans.... O Chimera!!!! I see purple sands wrinkling far, far +away, and round them foams a golden sea.... We saw that once before, +but not as it is now! For then it was delusion, and now...! The +sands are growing more distinct; I see the ripple of the golden +sea.... Chimera! What land is that? Is that the rainbow? Is that the +land of happiness, and are you the king?" + +"No, Psyche, I am not a king, and that Land...." + +"--And that Land...?" + +"Is ... the Kingdom of the Future!" + +"The Future! the Future!! O Chimera, where are you taking me to? Will +the Future not prove to be a delusion...?" + +"No, here is the Future. Here is the Land. Look at it well +... well...." + +"It is wider than the widest sphere, wider than anything I can think +of. Where are the limits?" + +"Nowhere." + +"How far and how wide is the widest sphere?" + +"Immeasurably far, indescribably wide...." + +"And what stretches away round the widest sphere?" + +"The unutterable, and the All, All! The...." + +"The...?" + +"I know no names! On earth things are called by names; here not...." + +"Chimera...! On the purple strand I see a town of light, palaces of +light, gates of light.... Do beings of light dwell there...? Are these +the fore-spheres of the farthest sphere...? Is that the way through +circles to ... the....? Chimera, I see forms, I see the people of +light!! O Chimera! Chimera!! They are beckoning us, they are waving +to us! I see two of them: a form of majesty, and another, near him, +of love! O Chimera! I know them!! That is my father, and that ... O +joy, O joy! ... that is Eros! Eros! Quicker, Chimera--annihilate +the space which separates us; speed on, ply your wings faster--away, +away! Oh, faster, Chimera! Can you not go faster? You fly too slowly +for me! You fly too slowly!! I can fly faster than you." + +She spread out her tender, light, butterfly wings; she rose above +the breathless, winged horse, and ... she flew...! + +She glided over the Chimera's head toward the strand, toward the city, +toward the blessed spirits. There she saw her father, there she saw +Eros--Eros, godlike and naked, with shining wings! + +Round her the viol of joy played its joyous notes, as if all the +spheres rejoiced together. In the divine light, the faces of the +cherubim began to blossom like winged roses.... + +She glided swiftly through the air to her father and Eros, and embraced +them. She laughed when she saw the flaming Chimera approaching, +because she could fly faster than he! + +"Come!" cried Eros joyfully. And he wanted to take her to the gate, +from whence sunbeams issued like a path of sunny gold: a path along +which enraptured souls were going hand in hand.... + +But the kingly shade stopped them for a moment, when they, Eros and +Psyche, intoxicated with love, embraced each other.... + +"Look!" said the shade. "Look down below...." + + + +They saw the Kingdom of the Past, with their glorified minds, lying +visible, deep in the funnel of the spheres. They saw the castle, fallen +to ruins, with a single tower still standing. They saw Astra, old, +grey, and blind, sitting before her telescope, and gazing in vain. They +saw her star flicker up for a moment with a bright and final light. + +Then they saw Astra's blind eyes ... see! Astra looked and beheld +the land of light, and the little band of happy, loving, dear ones +in their shining raiment. Then they heard Astra murmur: "There! there +... the Land...! The ... Kingdom ... of ... the ... Future!!!" + +And they saw her star extinguish: + +She fell back dead.... + +The viol of gladness trilled. + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Psyche, by Louis Couperus + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PSYCHE *** + +***** This file should be named 38005.txt or 38005.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/0/0/38005/ + +Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net/ for Project +Gutenberg (This file was produced from images generously +made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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