“I don’t quite know, my child. . . .”
“Why have I wings, and Astra a living star upon her head, and Emeralda eyes of jewels?”
“Because you are princesses; they are different from other girls.”
“And why, dear father,” whispered Psyche, secretly, “has Emeralda a heart of ruby? . . .”
“No child, that she has not. She has, it is true, eyes of emerald, because she is a princess—as Astra has a star and you two pretty wings—but she has a human heart.”
“No, father, dear, she has a heart of stone.”
“But who says so, my child?”
“The nurse does, father, her own pages, the guards at the gates, and the wise men who come to Astra.”
The king was very sad. He and his daughter looked deep into each other’s eyes, and embraced each other, for the king was sad, on account of what he saw in the future, and Psyche was frightened: she always trembled when she thought of Emeralda.
“Little Psyche,” said her old father, “will you now promise me something?”
“Yes, father, dear.”
