research. Our argument is that the widely distributed myths in which a
husband or a wife transgresses some 'custom'--sees the other's face or
body, or utters the forbidden name--might well have arisen as tales
illustrating the punishment of breaking the rule. By a very curious
coincidence, a Breton sailor's tale of the 'Cupid and Psyche' class is
confessedly founded on the existence of the rule of nuptial etiquette.
{75b}

In this story the son of a Boulogne pilot marries the daughter of the
King of Naz--wherever that may be. In Naz a man is never allowed to see
the face of his wife till she has borne him a child--a modification of
the Futa rule. The inquisitive French husband unveils his wife, and,
like Psyche in Apuleius, drops wax from a candle on her cheek. When the
pair return to Naz, the king of that country discovers the offence of the
husband, and, by the aid of his magicians, transforms the Frenchman into
a monster. Here we have the old formula--the infringement of a 'taboo,'
and the magical punishment--adapted to the ideas of Breton peasantry. The
essential point of the story, for our purpose, is that the veiling of the
bride is 'the custom of women,' in the mysterious land of Naz. 'C'est
l'usage du pays: les maris ne voient leurs femmes sans voile que
lorsqu'elles sont devenues meres.' Now our theory of the myth of Urvasi
is simply this: 'the custom of women,' which Pururavas transgresses, is
probably a traditional Aryan law of nuptial etiquette, l'usage du pays,
once prevalent among the people of India.

If our view be correct, then several rules of etiquette, and not one
alone, will be illustrated in the stories which we suppose the rules to
have suggested. In the case of Urvasi and Pururavas, the rule was, not
to see the husband naked. In 'Cupid and Psyche,' the husband was not to
be looked upon at all. In the well-known myth of Melusine, the bride is