Journeys Through Bookland Volume Iii Part 39

"Is it not unendurable that this girl, who was left unsought in our father's house for years, should be living in such splendor? I shall hate the sight of my own palace when I return."

"Yes," sighed the other, "all the polished oaken furnishings of which I was so proud will be worthless in my eyes after seeing Psyche's magnificent ivory and gold. And she is our younger sister!"

"Do you notice," said the elder sister, "that while she says much about what her husband does for her, she says nothing at all about him? But wait--here she comes--say nothing, and I will question her."

Happy, innocent Psyche, never doubting that her sisters were as pleased at her good fortune as she would have been at theirs, came to lead them to another room, but her sister detained her.

"Stay," she said, "we have something to ask of you. About all the splendors of your palace you have talked; you have told us at great length about your husband's goodness to you. But not a word about his looks or his age or his occupation have you said. See, sister! She blushes! Shy girl, she has been unwilling to speak of him until we spoke first."

"No doubt," said the other sister, "she has saved until the last her description of him, since he is the best part of her life here."

Poor Psyche knew not what to say. How should she confess that, after these many months, she had never seen her husband; that she knew not at all what manner of man he was?

"Why, he's a young man," she replied hesitatingly, "a very young man, and he spends much of his time hunting on the mountains."

"Has he blue eyes or brown?" asked the elder sister.

"I--why--O, blue eyes," said Psyche.

"And his hair," inquired the second sister, "is it straight or curling, black or fair?"

"It's--it's straight and--and brown," faltered poor Psyche, who had never before uttered a lie.

"Now, see here, my child," said the elder sister, "I can tell from your answers that you've never seen this precious husband of yours. Is not that the case?"

Psyche nodded, the tears running down her cheeks.

"But he's so good to me," she whispered. "And I promised I wouldn't try to see him."

"Good to you! You deluded innocent, of course he's good to you! What did the oracle say? It's plain to be seen that the prophecy has come true and that you are wedded to some fearful monster, who is kind to you now that he may kill and devour you by-and-by."

At length, for they were older than Psyche, and she had always been accustomed to taking their advice, they convinced her that her only safety lay in discovering at once what sort of a monster had her in its possession.

"Now mind," they counseled her, "this very night conceal a lamp and a dagger where you can reach them easily, and as soon as he is asleep, steal upon him. You shall see what you shall see. And if he's the distorted monster we think him, plunge the knife into his heart."

Poor, timid Psyche! Left to herself, she scarce knew what to do. She kindled the lamp, then extinguished it, ashamed of her lack of faith in her kind husband.

But when she heard him coming, she again hastily lighted the lamp and hid it, with a sharp dagger, behind a tapestry. When her husband approached her she pretended weariness; she knew that if she allowed him to talk with her, her fears would melt away.

"My visit with my sisters has tired me. Let me rest," she pleaded, and her husband, always ready to humor any wish of hers, did not try to coax her into conversation. He threw himself upon the couch, and when his regular breathing told her that he really slept, Psyche arose tremblingly, took up her lamp and dagger and stole to his side.

Lifting her lamp high she looked upon--the very G.o.d of Love, himself!

[Ill.u.s.tration: SHE LOOKED UPON THE G.o.d OF LOVE]

"I stood Long time uncertain, and at length turned round And gazed upon my love. He lay asleep, And ah, how fair he was! The flickering light Fell on the fairest of the G.o.ds, stretched out In happy slumber. Looking on his locks Of gold, and faultless face and smile, and limbs Made perfect, a great joy and trembling took me Who was most blest of women, and in awe And fear I stooped to kiss him. One warm drop From the full lamp within my trembling hand, Fell on his shoulder."

[Footnote: From Epic of Hades by Lewis Morris]

Cupid awoke, looked with startled eyes at his wife, and reading aright the story of the lamp and the dagger, spread his wings and flew through the open window, saying sadly:

"Farewell! There is no love except with Faith, And thine is dead!

Farewell! I come no more!"

Weeping and calling out to her husband, Psyche ran out of doors into the black, stormy night. To the edge of the garden she ran, and then, in her grief and terror she swooned. When she awakened, the palace and garden had vanished, but Psyche cared little for that; henceforth her only care was to seek her husband.

Encountering on her wanderings the kindly Ceres, Psyche implored her help; but Ceres could give her no aid except advice.

"The G.o.ds must stand by each other," she said. "If Venus is angered at thee, I can give thee no aid. This, though, thou mayst do: Go to Venus, submit thyself unto her, and perhaps thou mayst win her favor."

At the temple of Venus, Psyche encountered that G.o.ddess, the cause of all her misfortunes; and right glad was Venus to have the once proud maiden for her humble slave.

"Many are the tasks thou canst perform for me," said the disdainful G.o.ddess, "if them art not as stupid as thou art ugly. Here is a simple little task to begin upon."

She led Psyche to the storehouse of the temple and pointed out to her a great heap of grain--wheat, barley, poppy seeds, beans and millet.

"When I return at evening," she commanded, "have each sort of grain in a heap by itself."

The luckless girl knew that the work could not be accomplished in the time allowed her, and she made, therefore, no attempt to begin it. As she sat with her head in her hands, she heard a faint sound, as if the grain were being stirred about, and looking up, she saw that the ants had come in vast numbers and were sorting it out. Fascinated, she watched them, until long before evening the task was done.

"Thou couldst never have done this by thyself, lazy one," exclaimed Venus, on her return. "To-morrow I will see whether thou art indeed able to do anything. Beyond the river which flows past my temple are golden-fleeced sheep, roaming without a shepherd. Do thou bring to me a portion of their fleece."

In the morning Psyche set out, utterly discouraged, but afraid to linger in the temple of the angry G.o.ddess. When she approached the sheep, she trembled, for they were numerous, and very fierce. As she stood concealed in the rushes by the river bank, the murmuring reeds said to her:

"Wait! At noon the sheep will seek the shade. Then mayst thou gather of their fleece from the bushes under which they have ranged,"

With a thankful heart Psyche followed the directions, and at evening returned unharmed with the golden wool, which she presented to Venus.

Again the G.o.ddess upbraided her.

"Well I know that of thine own self thou couldst never have done this," she cried wrathfully; nor did she stop to reflect that the fact that Psyche thus received aid, unasked, in her difficulties, was a proof that all things on earth loved and pitied her, Instead, she gave her yet another task.

"Take this casket; go with it to the realms of the dead, and ask of Proserpina that she loan me a little of her beauty. I have worried about the undutiful conduct of my son until I have grown thin and pale, and I would look my best at the a.s.sembly of the G.o.ds to-morrow night."

This was the most hopeless task of all. To go to the realms of the dead--what did it mean but that she must die?

"As well soon as late," sighed the poor girl; and she climbed to the top of a high tower, meaning to cast herself down. But even here, where no living thing seemed to be, a voice came to her ears.

"Desist, rash girl, from thy plan! Thou art not yet to die. If thou wilt observe carefully all the directions which I shall give thee, thou shalt fulfill thy cruel mistress's stern behest. From a cave in yonder hill there leads a path, straight into the earth. No man has ever trodden it. Along this shalt thou journey, bearing in thy hand sops for the three-headed dog of Pluto, and money for the grim ferryman, Charon. It is written that thou shalt succeed; only, thou shalt not open the box which hides the beauty of Proserpina."

[Ill.u.s.tration: PSYCHE AND CHARON]

The voice ceased, and Psyche climbed from her tower and set out on the arduous journey. Through long, long hours she toiled over the rough path in utter darkness. What was on either side of her, she knew not; no sound came to her except the far-off drip of water slipping through the rocks. At length, when she was ready to drop with fatigue and fear, a faint light appeared before her. Somewhat cheered, she walked on, and stepping from the vast tunnel in which she had been journeying, she found herself on the bank of a river. It was not such a river as she had seen gliding through the green fields and glittering over the rocks of her native country; it was a sluggish, inky-black stream, [Footnote: There were several great rivers in Pluto's realm. Phlegethon, a river of fire, separated Tartarus, the abode of the wicked, from the rest of Hades, while Cocytus, a salty river, was composed of the tears of the dwellers in Tartarus. But the most famous of the rivers were the Styx, by which the G.o.ds swore; the Lethe, a draught from which made one forget all that had ever happened and begin life anew; and the Acheron, a black, cold stream, over which the spirits of the dead had to be ferried before they could enter Pluto's realm. The ferryman was Charon; and since he would row no one over the river unless he were paid for it, the ancients placed under the tongue of the dead a small coin wherewith the fare might be paid.]

which slid on without ever a ripple. A strange, gray light filled all the place, and showed to her a ferryboat, moored to the sh.o.r.e, and a grim-looking, old, long-bearded ferryman.

"Will you take me over the river?" asked Psyche, in a faint voice. The ferryman gave her no answer, but she ventured to step upon his craft, upon which he instantly shoved off. Without a sound they moved across the river, and when Psyche stepped off on the farther sh.o.r.e, she knew she was really in Hades, the dreadful realm of Pluto. Tossing back onto the boat the coin she had brought, she went on and on, until she came to a great gloomy tower of black marble. On the threshold stood Pluto's dog, three-headed Cerberus, and fiercely he barked at the poor frightened girl. However, the sop which she threw to him quieted him, and she pa.s.sed on into the palace. There, on their black thrones, sat Pluto and Proserpina, king and queen of this hopeless realm.

"Great queen," said Psyche, bowing humbly before Proserpina's throne, "my mistress has sent me to borrow for her a little of thy beauty."

"Willingly will I lend it," said Proserpina, kindly, "not to please thy proud mistress, but to help thee, poor girl." And taking the little casket which Psyche had brought with her, she breathed into it, closed it hurriedly, and handed it to the waiting girl.