The next day, when Psyche was left alone, she went out into the valley to see whether she could hear her sisters calling her. And sure enough, she had not gone far, when high up above her head, from the top of the cliff, she heard her name, "Psyche, O Psyche! where art thou?" At this she was overjoyed,

"O gentle Zephyr!" she called, "O fair west wind! waft, oh waft my sisters to me!"

Scarcely had she said the words than she saw her sisters gently borne down from the cliff above and set upon the ground beside her. She fell upon their necks and kissed them.

"Ah, my dear sisters," she cried, "how happy am I to see you! Welcome to my new home. See, I am not tortured, as you thought. Nay, my life is bliss, as you shall see for yourselves. Come, enter in with me."

And she took them by the hand and led them through the golden gates. The ministering voices played soft music in the air, and a rich feast was spread before them. All through the palace Psyche led them, and showed them all her treasures, and brought out her choicest jewels, and bade them choose out and keep as many as they wished.

All this time, though there was no corner of the palace that she kept hidden from them, she spoke no word of her mysterious husband. At length they could contain their curiosity no longer, and one made bold to ask her,

"Psyche, thou livest not here alone, of a surety. Yet where is thy lord? All thy treasures hast thou shown us, but him, the giver of all, we have not seen. Who is he, then? Surely he, whom the winds and bodiless voices obey, must be a god, and no mortal man. Tell us of him, we pray thee."

And Psyche remembered her husband's warning.

"My lord," she said, " is a huntsman bold, and over hill and dale he rides this day after the swift-footed stag. As fair as the dawn is he, and the first down of youth is on his cheek. All through the hours of sunlight he goeth forth to the chase, and at eventime he returneth to me."

It was now close on night, and the shadows fell long across the cool green lawns of the garden. Psyche bethought her that it was high time for her sisters to go, before they could ply her with questions. So, kissing them farewell, and sending many a loving message to the king her father, she called on Zephyr to waft them away to the top of the cliff.

Hitherto the surprise and wonder at all they had seen and heard had filled the minds of the two sisters. But when they found themselves once more alone upon the barren mountain-slopes, they had leisure to think and compare their lot with that of their sister. Before they had seen her golden halls they had been quite content with their own palaces. But these now seemed humble beside the splendours they had just left. Their shallow hearts were quite filled up with the image of themselves, and they had no room left for their sister. But now her good fortune forced the remembrance of her upon them, and they were filled with an envy and jealousy of her which conquered even their love for themselves. They could not be content to return once more to their homes, and receive the homage of their husbands and their households. Their one thought was how they might spoil her happiness. For the hatred that is born of self-love is an all-consuming passion that burns up every kind and noble thought, as a forest fire burns up the tall trees that stand in the path of its fury.

"How cruel and unjust," cried one, "that she, the youngest, should be blest so far above us both. My lord is a very beggar to him who giveth Psyche her golden halls to dwell in."

"Yea, and mine is an old man by the side of this beardless youth. Sister, thy grief and mine are one. Side by side let us work, and verily her cunning shall be great if she can avail against us and keep her ill-gotten wealth."

"Thou sayest well. 'Twas from pride that she welcomed us to her halls to flaunt her riches before us. Sister, I am with thee. Quickly let us plan some plot to unrobe this upstart maiden of her vaunted godhead."

Whereupon they agreed together to bring their father no word of Psyche's happiness. They tore their robes and loosed their hair, as though all this while they had been wandering over the rough mountain rocks.

"Ah, sire," they cried, "how can we tell thee the evil tidings? Nowhere can we find our sister, or any trace of her. Verily, the oracle lieth not, and she is the bride of some fell monster."

Their cruel words smote their father to the heart and quenched the feeble spark of hope that still burned in his breast. And when all hope leaves the heart of man, life leaves him, too. So the old king died, and his blood was on the hands of his own children, and one day they paid the penalty with their lives.

Meanwhile, Psyche lived on in the happy valley in blissful content. Her husband would often warn her that her sisters were plotting her ruin, but she would listen to nothing against them. At last one night he said,

"Psyche, to-morrow thy sisters will seek thee once again. This time they will not wait for Zephyr to bear them down, but, trusting themselves to the barren air, they will hurl themselves from the cliff, and be dashed to pieces on the rocks below. Leave them to their fate. 'Twill be due penalty for their crime, and 'tis the only way that we can be saved, beloved."

"My lord," cried Psyche, "thy cruelty would kill my love for thee, were it not immortal. But, in very truth, all my joy would be slain did I know that my sisters were killed when I could have saved them. Oh, dearest husband, by the love that makes us one, I beseech thee, send Zephyr once more to bear my sisters hither."

And she sobbed so pitifully and prayed so earnestly that once again he had not the heart to refuse.

So about noontide the next day Psyche heard loud knocking and cries at the door, and she hastened to open it herself to her sisters. Again, she kissed them, and bade them welcome, and they deceived her with flattery and honeyed words, and when she was off her guard, one said,

"Come, tell us, Psyche, thy husband's name. Among the immortal gods, where doth he take his place, and why is he not here to greet us?"

"My husband," she replied, "is a rich merchant. Many a long year hath it taken to build up all the fortune you behold, for already the hair about his temples is touched with snow. And this day hath he gone a long journey to a distant town in search of rich merchandise, and he returneth not till the setting of the sun."

Then quickly she called on Zephyr to bear them away before they could ply her with questions.

When her husband came that night he was more troubled than before, and begged her to see them no more, but let them be dashed to death on the rocks if they troubled her again. Her pure heart, however, would believe no evil of them; and in this one thing she disobeyed her lord.

Meanwhile, the second visit of the sisters to Psyche in her beautiful home had but served to add fuel to the fire of their envy. When they remembered her confusion and the different tales she told them about her unknown lord, jealousy whispered in their ears that all her happiness depended on the keeping of her secret, and that secret they straightway determined to know.

" 'Tis a strange lord, methinks," said one, "who in the waxing and waning of a single moon doth change from a beardless boy to a grave and reverend merchant whose hair is touched with snow."

"True, sister. And therein lieth the secret of her happiness. Her lying tale but proves that she hath never seen her lord. And verily, he who would hide his face from the queen of his heart must be some child of the Immortals, whose love for an earth-born maid must be hid from gods and men."

"Yea, and they who are loved of the Immortals are themselves immortal, too, and their seed after them. Truly, sister, that Psyche should be a goddess is more than I can bear."

"I feel with thee! It is not meet that the youngest should have all. Let us invent some lying tale which shall make her look upon her lord, and break the spell which binds him to her."

"What sayest thou to the words of the oracle that doomed her to wed a monster? Let us go to her and say that now we know this to be true, and beg her to flee from fate so vile."

So once more they trusted themselves to Zephyr, for Psyche had prevailed upon her lord to promise that, so long as her sisters should do her no harm, Zephyr should always be waiting to carry them to and fro from her.

Early the next day she was aroused from sleep by the sound of weeping and lamentation at her door, and she hastened to meet her sisters, fearing some ill news. And they fell upon her neck, crying,

"Alas, alas, for thine evil fate!"

"Mine evil fate, sisters? What mean ye? All is well with me."

"Ah, so thou thinkest in thine heart's innocence. Even so falleth the dove a victim to the hawk that wheeleth avove."

"What talk is this of doves and hawks? Come, my sisters, weep no more, for in this pleasant vale even the winds of heaven breath gently on me, so good and great is my lord who commandeth them."

"Thy lord! Hast ever seen his face, child, that thou callest him good and great?"

"Nay," she answered, blushing to think that they had guessed her secret, " 'tis true I have not seen his face, but what need to look upon him when all around me breathes of his love for me?"

"Hast never heard tell of foul monsters that wed with the daughters of men, and come to them only in the night season, when the darkness can hide their deformity? They cast a spell about their victims, and by their wiles and enchantments they make all things about them seem fair. But one day, when they have had their fill, and tire of the maid they have won, lo! at a word the pleasant palaces and gardens vanish into air, and she is left ashamed and deserted, and scorned by gods and men. Ah, sister, be warned by those who wish thee well, and flee from thy vile lot ere all is lost. Even yesterday, when we left thee, we saw a monstrous shape that glided after us through the wood, and we fled in terror, knowing it was thy lord, who would not have us near thee. Come with us now, and be saved."

When Psyche heard their words she was very troubled. Truly, 'twas strange that her lord should be loath for her to see her sisters, unless, indeed, it was even as they said, and she was the prey of some terrible beast. Yet his kind and loving words and his tender thought for her welfare and all the beauty that surrounded her gave the lie to such a thought.

"My dear sisters," she cried, "I thank you for your loving fears for me, but it cannot be as you say. Though I have never looked upon my lord, these fair halls and gardens do but mirror forth the beauty of his soul, and I know that he is true."

"Then why doth he hide his face? At least, if thou wilt not flee with us now, do but put him to the test when he comes this night. A glimpse at his form will tell thee that our tale is true; and if by some strange chance it be not so, what harm can one glance do?"

Thus they tempted her, and made her doubt her lord, though sore against her will. So it often happens that the pure of heart are tortured by the doubts which the wicked plant in their breasts. As little does a young bird in the greenwood suspect the hunter's snare as did Psyche in her loving innocence suspect the malicious envy of her sisters.

But they were filled with joy at the success of their plot, and when Zephyr had borne them to the top of the cliff they could contain their gladness no longer, but fell upon each other's necks and kissed and danced for glee.

But Psyche at their bidding made ready to look upon her lord that night. Under a chair she placed a lighted lamp in readiness, and shrouded it about, that the light might not shine into the room and betray her purpose. Trembling she went to bed that night, for she hated the deed she must do. At the usual hour her lord came and spoke lovingly to her, and kissed her, but her words died away upon her lips, and she shuddered at his embrace. In time he fell asleep, and his breathing was gentle and even as that of a child sweetly dreaming in its innocence at heart. Then she rose up silently in the dead of night, and walking softly to the chair, she took the lamp from beneath and turned on tiptoe to the bed. High above her head she held the light, that the rays might fall more gently on him as he slept, and with bated breath she drew near and looked on him. As she looked, the blood rushed headlong through her veins, and her heart beat fast within her, and her limbs seemed turned to water as she bent forward to look more closely. For on the bed, wrapped in deep slumber, lay no terrible monster, as she feared, but the youngest and fairest of the Immortals—Eros, the great god of Love. The gleam of his golden locks was as sunshine on the summer sea, and his limbs like the eddying foam. From his shoulders sprang two mighty wings bright as the rainbow, and by his side lay his quiver and darts. As he moved restlessly in the light of the lamp she heard her name upon his lips. With a low cry she fell on her knees beside him, and as she did so her arm grazed the point of an arrow placed heedlessly in the sheath. The poison ran like liquid fire through her veins, and set her heart aflame, and with blazing cheeks she bent over and kissed him on the lips. As she did so the lamp trembled in her hand, and a drop of the burning oil fell upon his shoulder, and he started up and found her bending over him.

"Ah, wretched, wretched Psyche!" he cried; "what hast thou done? Couldst thou not trust me, who gave thee all the happiness thou hast ever known?"

"My lord, my lord, forgive me! I would but prove to my sisters by mine own eyes' witness that thou wert not the monster that they dreaded."

"Thrice foolish maid! Knowest thou not that doubt driveth away love? Did I not tell thee that thy first look would be thy last? From a terrible fate I saved thee when Aphrodite bade me strike thee with my shaft and make thee love some terrible beast. When I went forth to do her bidding thy grace and beauty conquered me, and I took thee away to be my bride; and in time, hadst thou proved worthy, my mother and all the great gods that rule above would have forgiven me, and shed on thee the gift of immortality, to live with me for ever in the courts of heaven. But now all is lost, and I must leave thee."

"Ah, my lord, great is my sin, but I love thee, and my soul is thine. Over the whole wide world would I wander, or be slave to the meanest of men, so be it I could find thee again. Ah, dearest lord! tell me not that all hope is gone."

One moment he was silent, as though doubting her. Then he answered,

"One way there lieth before thee, if thy courage prove greater than thy faith—one only way, by which thou canst reach me—the long rough path of trial and sorrow. Heaven and earth shall turn against thee; for men win not immortality for a sigh. Yet will I help thee all I may. In thine own strength alone thou wouldst faint and die by the way, but for every step thou takest I will give thee strength for two. And now farewell! I can tell thee no more, neither linger beside thee. Fare thee well, fare thee well."

As he vanished from her eyes Psyche fell senseless on the floor, and for many a long hour she lay there, hearing and seeing nothing, as though life itself had fled.

Meanwhile the two sisters were waiting in a frenzy of impatience to know whether success had crowned their evil plot. If the doubt they had planted in Psyche's breast had borne fruit, and she had dared to disobey her lord, they knew full well that all her happiness would have vanished like a dream. Yet, fearing the anger of him whom the winds of heaven obeyed, they dared not trust themselves to Zephyr, who had carried them down before. So they wandered restlessly from room to room, and peered from the windows, hoping that Psyche in her misery would come to them and beg for succour in her evil plight. There was nothing they would have loved better than to spurn her from their doors and taunt her on the retribution which had fallen on her vanity. But all day long they waited, and yet she came not, so that at length they parted and went each one to her couch.

But the night was hot and sultry, and the eldest sister lay on her bed and tossed restlessly from side to side, and could not sleep. At length she went to the casement and drew aside the curtain and looked out on the starry night, and when she had cooled her burning brow she went back to her couch. Just as she was about to fall asleep she felt a shadow pass between her and the light from the window, and she opened her eyes, and her heart beat fast; for straight in the path of the moonbeams stood Eros, the great god of Love, and his wings stood out black against the starlit sky as he leant on his golden bow. Though his face was dark in the shadow, his eyes seemed to pierce through to her heart as she lay still and trembling with fear. But he spoke softly to her with false, honeyed words.

"Lady, thy sister Psyche, whom I chose out from the daughters of men, hath proved false and untrue, and lo! now I turn my love to thee. Come thou in her stead and be mistress in my palace halls, and I will give thee immortality. Lo! even now Zephyr awaits thee on the mountain-top to bear thee away to my home."

So saying, he faded from her sight. Her wicked heart was filled with joy when she heard of Psyche's fall, and she rose up in the dead of night and put on her gayest robe and brightest gems. Without so much as a look on the prince her husband she went out to the mountain-top. There she stood alone, and called softly to Zephyr,

"O Zephyr, O Zephyr, O fair west wind, waft me, oh waft me away to my love!"

Without waiting she threw herself boldly down. But the air gave way beneath her, and with a terrible cry she fell faster and faster, down, down, to the gulf below, and was dashed to pieces on the rocks; and from the four quarters of heaven the vultures gathered and fed upon her flesh.

As for the second sister, to her, too, the god appeared and spoke false honeyed words, and she too went forth alone; and in the morning her bones lay gleaming white beside her sister's on the rocks below.