thirsty. I stooped down and scooped up the clear water in my hand. It tasted salt, Psyche: they were tears.”
“My tears . . . .” she said, and wept.
“Psyche, I drank them. Tell me, do you forgive me for that?”
“Yes. . . .”
“I followed the brook, and now I have found you here.”
She was silent; she looked at him. He knelt down by her.
“Psyche,” said he gently, “I love you. Because I saw you little and naked and winged, standing amongst your proud sisters Psyche, I love you. I love you so much, that I would weep all your tears for you, and would give you . . . . the Chimera.”
“You can’t do that,” she said sadly.
“No, Psyche,” answered he, “that cannot, alas! be done. I can only weep for myself; and the Chimera . . . . nobody can catch him.”
“He flies too fast,” she said, “and he is much too strong; but it is very kind of you, Prince Eros. . . .”
She stretched out her hand, and he kissed it reverentially.
