trembled when she had to sing alone the long monotonous sentence. . . .
There, in the deepest vault, they placed the coffin, next to the coffin of the king’s father, and kneeling round it, they prayed. The low Roman vaults receded in impenetrable darkness. They sang and prayed the whole live-long day, and Psyche was very tired; and whilst she was kneeling, her little knees quite stiff, she fell asleep against the coffin of her father. Her last thought had been to kiss the dear old face for the last time, but she felt nothing but the goldsmith’s work, and the great round jewels that were in it hurt her head. . . . Then she fell asleep. . . .
And when the court had prayed, and all went up the steps again, there above, to do homage to Emeralda, as queen of the Kingdom of the Past, they all forgot Psyche.
Long, long she slept. . . .
And when she awoke, she did not know at first where she was.
Then by the light of the long torches she espied the coffin.
And through the crystal of the sarcophagus she saw the dead face of the king, and pressed a kiss upon the glass.
