repeats his warning:

"Even now the sword is drawn with which thy sisters seek thy life. Have
pity on thyself, sweet wife, and upon our child, and see not those evil
women again." But the sisters make their way into the palace once
more, crying to her in [72] wily tones, "O Psyche! and thou too wilt be
a mother! How great will be the joy at home! Happy indeed shall we be
to have the nursing of the golden child. Truly if he be answerable to
the beauty of his parents, it will be a birth of Cupid himself."

So, little by little, they stole upon the heart of their sister. She,
meanwhile, bids the lyre to sound for their delight, and the playing is
heard: she bids the pipes to move, the quire to sing, and the music and
the singing come invisibly, soothing the mind of the listener with
sweetest modulation. Yet not even thereby was their malice put to
sleep: once more they seek to know what manner of husband she has, and
whence that seed. And Psyche, simple over-much, forgetful of her first
story, answers, "My husband comes from a far country, trading for great
sums. He is already of middle age, with whitening locks." And
therewith she dismisses them again.

And returning home upon the soft breath of Zephyrus one cried to the
other, "What shall be said of so ugly a lie? He who was a young man
with goodly beard is now in middle life. It must be that she told a
false tale: else is she in very truth ignorant what manner of man he
is. Howsoever it be, let us destroy her quickly. For if she indeed
knows not, be sure that her bridegroom is one of the gods: it is a god
she bears in her womb. And let [73] that be far from us! If she be
called mother of a god, then will life be more than I can bear."

So, full of rage against her, they returned to Psyche, and said to her
craftily, "Thou livest in an ignorant bliss, all incurious of thy real
danger. It is a deadly serpent, as we certainly know, that comes to
sleep at thy side. Remember the words of the oracle, which declared
thee destined to a cruel beast. There are those who have seen it at
nightfall, coming back from its feeding. In no long time, they say, it
will end its blandishments. It but waits for the babe to be formed in
thee, that it may devour thee by so much the richer. If indeed the
solitude of this musical place, or it may be the loathsome commerce of
a hidden love, delight thee, we at least in sisterly piety have done
our part." And at last the unha