their evil intent; and she came to find some wisdom in their words.
Little by little, suspicion ate, like a moth, into her lovely mind; and
at nightfall, in shame and fear, she hid a lamp and a dagger in her
chamber. Towards midnight, when her husband was fast asleep, up she
rose, hardly daring to breathe; and coming softly to his side, she
uncovered the lamp to see some horror.

But there the youngest of the gods lay sleeping,--most beautiful, most
irresistible of all immortals. His hair shone golden as the sun, his
face was radiant as dear Springtime, and from his shoulders sprang two
rainbow wings.

Poor Psyche was overcome with self-reproach. As she leaned towards him,
filled with worship, her trembling hands held the lamp ill, and some
burning oil fell upon Love's shoulder and awakened him.

He opened his eyes, to see at once his bride and the dark suspicion in
her heart.

"O doubting Psyche!" he exclaimed with sudden grief,--and then he flew
away, out of the window.

Wild with sorrow, Psyche tried to follow, but she fell to the ground
instead. When she recovered her senses, she stared about her. She was
alone, and the place was beautiful no longer. Garden and palace had
vanished with Love.