of your wings, and watch over me during the dreadful night?”
“No, little Psyche. I am going farther and farther, and then I will return. Then after weeks . . . . after months, perhaps, you will see me again in the air. . . .”
“You will forsake me? Here in the desert?”
“Take courage, little Psyche: you are now too tired to fly farther with me through the air. You would slip from my back and fall into nothingness. Here is a pleasant oasis; here are dates and a murmuring stream. . . .”
She uttered a cry; her sobs choked her. She uttered a second, which frightened the hyenas far away in the desert and made them prick up their ears. She uttered a third, which rent the night-air, and the stars quivered from sympathy.
“Alone!” she cried, and wrung her hands. “Alone! O Chimera, you will leave me alone with dates and brook! and I thought . . . . and still hoped, that you would stay with me, king in your country of the rainbow!
“Alone! you will leave me alone in a sandy desert, in nothing but sand, sand in the night, with a single tree and a handful of water!
