ore the groom was able to fetch the watch, the robbers forced
their way into the house, and broke open Milo's strongbox. Then they
loaded me and the horse and the ass with the stolen wealth, and drove us
out into the mountains. Unused to the heavy burden laid on me, I went
rather slowly. This enraged the robbers, and they beat me until I was
well-nigh dead. But at last I saw a sight which filled me with the
wildest joy. We passed a noble country house, surrounded by a garden of
sweet-smelling roses. I rushed open-mouthed upon the flowers. But just
as I strained my curling lips towards them, I stopped. If I changed
myself into a man the robbers would kill me, either as a wizard, or out
of fear that I would inform against them! So I left the roses untouched,
and in the evening we came to the cave in the mountains where the
robbers dwelt, and there, to my delight, I was relieved of my grievous
load.

Soon afterwards another band of robbers arrived, carrying a young and
lovely maid arrayed as a bride. Her beautiful features were pale, and
wet with tears, and she tore her hair and her garments. "Take this
girl," said the robbers to the old woman who waited upon them, "and
comfort her. Tell her she's in no danger. Her people are rich, and will
soon ransom her."

Charite, for such was the name of the beautiful bride, fell weeping into
one of the old women's arms.

"They tore me away from Tlepolemus," she said, "when he was about to
enter my bridal chamber. Our house was decked with laurel, and the
bridal-song was being sung, when a band of swordsmen entered with drawn
swords, and carried me off. Now I shall never see my bridegroom again."

"Yes, you will, dearie," said the old woman. "But don't let us talk
about it now. After all, you are not in so evil a plight as Psyche was
when she lost her husband, Cupid. Now, listen, while I tell you that
marvellous tale."

And here is the tale of Cupid and Psyche as the old woman related it to
Charite:

_IV.--The Marvellous Story of Cupid and Psyche_

"There was once a king of a certain city who had three daughters. All of
them were very beautiful, but Psyche, the youngest, was lovelier even
than Venus. The people worshipped her as she walked the streets, and
strewed her path with flowers. Strangers from all parts of the world
thronged to see her and to adore her. The temples of Venus were
deserted, and no garlands were laid at her shrines. Thereupon, the
goddess of love and