sisterly piety have done our part." And at last the unhappy Psyche,
simple and frail of soul, carried away by the terror of their words,
losing memory of her husband's precepts and her own promise, brought
upon herself a great calamity. Trembling and turning pale, she
answers them, "And they who tell those things, it may be, speak the
truth. For in very deed never have I seen the face of my husband,
nor know I at all what manner of man he is. Always he frights me
diligently from the sight of him, threatening some great evil should
I too curiously look upon his face. Do ye, if ye can help your
sister in her great peril, stand by her now."

[74] Her sisters answered her, "The way of safety we have well
considered, and will teach thee. Take a sharp knife, and hide it in
that part of the couch where thou art wont to lie: take also a lamp
filled with oil, and set it Privily behind the curtain. And when he
shall have drawn up his coils into the accustomed place, and thou
hearest him breathe in sleep, slip then from his side and discover
the lamp, and, knife in hand, put forth thy strength, and strike off
the serpent's head." And so they departed in haste.

And Psyche left alone (alone but for the furies which beset her) is
tossed up and down in her distress, like a wave of the sea; and
though her will is firm, yet, in the moment of putting hand to the
deed, she falters, and is torn asunder by various apprehension of the
great calamity upon her. She hastens and anon delays, now full of
distrust, and now of angry courage: under one bodily form she loathes
the monster and loves the bridegroom. But twilight ushers in the
night; and at length in haste she makes ready for the terrible deed.
Darkness came, and the bridegroom; and he first, after some faint
essay of love, falls into a deep sleep.