in the weariness of her grief, Psyche slept, and
when she awoke it was to start up with the chill hands of the
realisation of terrible actualities on her heart. But when her eyes
looked round to find the barren rocks, the utter forsakenness, the
coming of an unnameable horror, before her she saw only fair groves
with trees bedecked with fruit and blossom, fragrant meadows, flowers
whose beauty made her eyes grow glad. And from the trees sang birds
with song more sweet than any that Psyche had ever known, and with
brilliant plumage which they preened caressingly when they had dipped
their wings in crystal-sparkling fountains. There, too, stood a noble
palace, golden fronted, and with arcades of stainless marble that
shone like snow in the sun. At first all seemed like part of a dream
from which she dreaded to awake, but soon there came to her the joy of
knowing that all the exquisite things that made appeal to her senses
were indeed realities. Almost holding her breath, she walked forward
to the open golden doors. "It is a trap," she thought. "By this means
does the monster subtly mean to lure me into his golden cage." Yet,
even as she thought, there seemed to be hovering round her winged
words, like little golden birds with souls. And in her ears they
whispered, "Fear not. Doubt not. Recall the half-formed dreams that so
short a time ago brought to thy heart such unutterable joy. No evil
shall come to thee--only the bliss of loving and of being loved."

[Illustration: THUS DID PSYCHE LOSE HER FEAR, AND ENTER THE GOLDEN
DOORS]

Thus did Psyche lose her fear, and enter the golden doors. And
inside the palace she found that all the beautiful things of which she
had ever dreamed, all the perfect things for which she had ever
longed, were there to greet her. From one to another she flitted, like
a humming-bird that sucks honey from one and then from another
gorgeous flower. And then, when she was tired with so much wearing out
of her thankful mind, she found a banquet ready spread for her, with
all the dainties that her dainty soul liked best; and, as she ate,
music so perfect rejoiced her ears that all her soul was soothed and
joyous and at peace. When she had refreshed herself, a soft couch
stood before her, ready for her there to repose, and when that strange
day had come to an end, Psyche knew that, monster or not, she was
beloved by one who had thought for her every thought, and who desired
only her desire.

Night c