far off in the sunshine as in a golden meadow. The knight disappeared, but the horse glided nearer and flew on his wings, high over the castle, towards the sheep.
Then Psyche dreamed at night of the swans, the tower, the dragon, the knight, the horse; but the horse she liked best, because it had strong wings. And next morning she gazed from the battlements to see if the horse would come again.
But then the sky was either gloomy from the rain or blue from the absence of clouds, or covered with white peacock’s feathers, splendid plumes, but motionless, far, far away in the air. The wind changed, when she said: “Away! blow now from the East again! Begone, North wind, with your dark perils, begone! Begone, West wind, with your rainurns! Begone, South wind, with your peacock’s feathers! Come now, wind from the East, with your treasures of luxurious visions, ye dragons, ye horses, ye girls with swans!. . . .” Then the clouds began to shift, the winds to blow, and play an opera high up in the air, and Psyche, enchanted, sat and gazed.
Then after weeks, after she had missed it for weeks, came again the winged horse.
