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The evening at length came, it's obscurity it's silence, and it's solitude, which recal to Psyche for the first time, the thought of the dreadful oracle, which she had some what lost light of. That the night would pass in every respect like the last, as under the paternal roof, her feelings as a woman seemed to say was impossible, but that a day which had only been a continuation of enchantments and pleasures, would finish by the appearance of a frightful husband, by an interview with the monster which the sacred tripod had threatened, was a circumstance she could not suppose possible. For a long time she scarce dared to breathe, tired at length of listening and waiting, she yielded to sleep. She slept as a young girl, that is to say profoundly, carelessly bent over her pillow, one arm under her head, the other hanging over the side of the bed, when by stealth, the mysterious and unknown Being, passed by her, whose presence she suspected in the morning. There was nothing like a profane touch! Here under the disordered bed-clothes, was seen the delicate form of a child with wings, slightly touching, softly, and voluptuously, the elegant form of a female whom no veil concealed! Two arms were here interlaced! Two mouths touched each other. You, at least can comprehend such mysteries, you, who have felt and are acquainted with the soft delights of life, you, between whose arms a beloved and timid lover has passed by insensible degrees of fear to confidence, to pleasure, to a delirium of joy.

For our part, the accoutrements of an archer, abandoned and thrown carelessly on the flag stones of the floor, sufficiently inform us, that Cupid is there, and of what monster, the dread of Gods and men, has the oracle spoken of?

Whoever it be, this husband takes his departure at the break of day, he makes a point more than he himself can express, of not being seen by any one. If we may believe him, at the moment when it would no longer be necessary for him to preserve his incognito, even to his mild Psyche, it would become necessary for him to disappear for ever, and from that event, what dreadful misfortunes would arise.

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Psyché

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