joy that he ever
kept by him, undoing all his work. Back to her dream the princess went,
unshadowed by any thought of love. But Cupid, not so light of heart,
returned to the heavens, saying not a word of what had passed.

Venus waited long; then, seeing that Psyche's heart had somehow escaped
love, she sent a spell upon the maiden. From that time, lovely as she
was, not a suitor came to woo; and her parents, who desired to see her a
queen at least, made a journey to the Oracle, and asked counsel.

Said the voice: "The Princess Psyche shall never wed a mortal. She shall
be given to one who waits for her on yonder mountain; he overcomes gods
and men."

At this terrible sentence the poor parents were half-distraught, and
the people gave themselves up to grief at the fate in store for their
beloved princess. Psyche alone bowed to her destiny. "We have angered
Venus unwittingly," she said, "and all for sake of me, heedless maiden
that I am! Give me up, therefore, dear father and mother. If I atone, it
may be that the city will prosper once more."

So she besought them, until, after many unavailing denials, the parents
consented; and with a great company of people they led Psyche up
the mountain,--as an offering to the monster of whom the Oracle had
spoken,--and left her there alone.

Full of courage, yet in a secret agony of grief, she watched her kindred
and her people wind down the mountain-path, too sad to look back, until
they were lost to sight. Then, indeed, she wept, but a sudden breeze
drew near, dried her tears, and caressed her hair, seeming to murmur
comfort. In truth, it was Zephyr, the kindly West Wind, come to befriend
her; and as she took heart, feeling some benignant presence, he lifted
her in his arms, and carried her on wings as even as a sea-gull's, over
the crest of the fateful mountain and into a valley below. There he left
her, resting on a bank of hospitable grass, and there the princess fell
asleep.

When she awoke, it was near sunset. She looked about her for some sign
of the monster's approach; she wondered, then, if her grievous trial had
been but a dream. Near by she saw a sheltering forest, whose young
trees seemed to beckon as one maid beckons to another; and eager for the
protection of the dryads, she went thither.

The call of running waters drew her farther and farther, till she
came out upon an open place, where there was a wide pool. A fountain
fluttered gladly in the midst of it, a