Psyche (Couperus)/Chapter 9
The old king was dead.
Black flags hung from the three hundred towers, and cast their dark shadows below.
A dim light fell through the bow-windows into the castle, for the three hundred flags obscured the sun.
With funeral music, that made the heart feel sad, the procession, with long flickering torches, followed the king’s coffin down the steps to the deep vaults below.
The priests, in black, prayed in Latin; the court, in black, sang the litany; and the princesses, in black, sang alternately a long Latin sentence. . . .
Behind the coffin walked, first, Emeralda; behind her, Astra her sister; and then little Psyche, wrapped in her black veil. Emeralda sang with a voice of crystal; Astra, distracted, was too late in answering; and Psyche’s voice 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. “Dear father!” she whispered, trembling, “why have you gone? I am now quite alone! Of Emeralda I am afraid, and Astra does not think of me; she only thinks of the stars. Father, dear, forgive me! I have deceived you. I have travelled through the air on the back of the flying horse. But father, dear, the horse is beautiful, and I love the Chimera! O father dear, I have deceived you, and now I am alone, and I have nobody who cares for me! You are dead, father, and embalmed, and shut up in gold and crystal and jewels, and do not hear your little Psyche. You do not think of your little daughter. Alone! alone! Awe-inspiring is the castle; three hundred towers rise high up in the air. I have never been in all the three hundred, however much I have wandered. O father, father, why have you left me? Who is there to love me now? who to protect me now in the world? Father, farewell! I will not stay here; I will go away! I will leave the castle. Great is the world and wicked, but Emeralda is powerful and I am afraid of her. If I remain, she will drive me away with her look and shut me up all my life, and my wings I shall break against the unbreakable lattice. “Father, farewell! I will not remain here. I will flee! Whither? Whither shall I flee? I do not know. O father, dear, alone your child remains in the great, unsafe world! Alone! alone! O father, farewell, farewell! and forever!”
She rose, she shivered. The dark vaults receded more and more. By the light of the long torches she saw the sacred spiders, which wove web after web; they were never disturbed.
“Sacred spider!” said Psyche to a big fat one, with a cross on its back, “tell me where I must go.”
“You cannot flee,” replied the spider, high up in the dark vault, in the middle of its web. “Everything is as it is; everything becomes as it was; happens as it happens; all goes to dust. Every day sinks into the deep vaults of the dark pits under us; under us everything becomes the Past, and everything comes into the power of Emeralda. As soon as anything is, it has been, and is in the power of Emeralda. Seek not to flee—that is vanity; submit to your lot. The best thing is that you become one of us, a sacred spider, and weave your web. For our web is sacred; our web is indisturbable; and with all our webs, one for the other, we serve the princess and protect her treasures—the treasures of the Past, which behind our weaving go to dust.”
“But if they go to dust, of what value are they?”
“Foolish child, dust is everything. The Past is dust; remembrance is dust. Everything becomes dust; love, jewels—all becomes dust, and the sacred dust we watch over behind our webs. Become a spider like us, weave your web, and be wise.”
“But I live. I am young, I desire, I love, and I cannot bury myself in dust. . . . Oh, tell me whither I must flee!”
The spider laughed scornfully, and moved its eight legs with great impatience.
“Ask me not about the places of the world—the regions of the wind. I sit here and spin. I am holy. I watch over the treasure of the throne. Disturb me no more with your frivolity, and let not your wings get entangled in the rays of my web, although you are not a moth, but princess of the Kingdom of the Past. . . .”
Psyche was frightened. The spider reverenced her because she was a princess, but coveted with his wicked instinct. . . . And she drew back. She cast a last look at the dead face of her father, and fled up the hundred steps. In every corner sat the sacred spiders and moved their legs. Shuddering, she fled on. Whither? She thought of her love, the light-gold Chimera, but nowhere could he be with her for ever. She glided with him through the air, and he brought her back to the castle. His lot was to fly restlessly through the air. Oh, were she but a Chimera like him, had she but two strong wings instead of princesses’ wings, she would have gone with him everywhere . . . .!
Whither? Above, from the enthronement-hall, came the sounds of joyful music. There Emeralda was being crowned. Whither?? She fled to the terrace. . . . Oh, if Emeralda missed her, how angry she would be! She would think that Psyche refused to do her homage. She could never return. Farewell, flowers, swans, doves!
The three hundred flags obscured the light. She would never be able to see the Chimera coming. Oh, if he came and she did not see him, and did not beckon to him, and he flew past! He was her only safety! If needs be, she would wait for days together on the battlements. But if Emeralda sent to search for her! Oh, if she did, then there was the cataract; then she would throw herself headlong down, for ever, for ever, into the rushing water with its rainbow colours!
A wind arose. That was the wind that brought her beloved. The flags flapped and impeded her view. And although she saw nothing, she beckoned as in despair, and called out:
“Chimera, Chimera!”