So, little by little, they stole upon the heart of their sister.
She, meanwhile, bids the lyre to sound for their delight, and the
playing is heard: she bids the pipes to move, the quire to sing, and
the music and the singing come invisibly, soothing the mind of the
listener with sweetest modulation. Yet not even thereby was their
malice put to sleep: once more they seek to know what manner of
husband she has, and whence that seed. And Psyche, simple over-much,
forgetful of her first story, answers, "My husband comes from a far
country, trading for great sums. He is already of middle age, with
whitening locks." And therewith she dismisses them again.

And returning home upon the soft breath of Zephyrus one cried to the
other, "What shall be said of so ugly a lie? He who was a young man
with goodly beard is now in middle life. It must be that she told a
false tale: else is she in very truth ignorant what manner of man he
is. Howsoever it be, let us destroy her quickly. For if she indeed
knows not, be sure that her bridegroom is one of the gods: it is a
god she bears in her womb. And let [73] that be far from us! If she
be called mother of a god, then will life be more than I can bear."

So, full of rage against her, they returned to Psyche, and said to
her craftily, "Thou livest in an ignorant bliss, all incurious of thy
real danger. It is a deadly serpent, as we certainly know, that
comes to sleep at thy side. Remember the words of the oracle, which
declared thee destined to a cruel beast. There are those who have
seen it at nightfall, coming back from its feeding. In no long time,
they say, it will end its blandishments. It but waits for the babe
to be formed in thee, that it may devour thee by so much the richer.
If indeed the solitude of this musical place, or it may be the
loathsome commerce of a hidden love, delight thee, we at least in