Then Psyche dreamed at night of the swans, the tower, the dragon, the knight, the horse; but the horse she liked best, because it had strong wings. And next morning she gazed from the battlements to see if the horse would come again.
But then the sky was either gloomy from the rain or blue from the absence of clouds, or covered with white peacock’s feathers, splendid plumes, but motionless, far, far away in the air. The wind changed, when she said: “Away! blow now from the East again! Begone, North wind, with your dark perils, begone! Begone, West wind, with your rain-urns! Begone, South wind, with your peacock’s feathers! Come now, wind from the East, with your treasures of luxurious visions, ye dragons, ye horses, ye girls with swans! …” Then the clouds began to shift, the winds to blow, and play an opera high up in the air, and Psyche, enchanted, sat and gazed.
Then after weeks, after she had missed it for weeks, came again the winged horse.
And she beckoned to it to approach, to descend to her; but it flew past over the castle. Then she missed it again for many days, and, angry, she looked at the sky and scolded the wind. But then the horse came again, and, laughing, she beckoned to it. The horse ascended high, its wings expanded in the air, and oh, wonder! it beckoned to her to come up, up to it. She gave a sign that she could not, shook her little shoulders helplessly, and, trembling, flapped her wings and spread her arms wide out to say that she could not. And the horse sped away on the breath of the wind from the East.
Then Psyche wept, and, sad at heart, sat looking at the far, far-off landscapes which she would never reach.
But weeks afterwards the treasure-bringing wind blew again, and again appeared the horse in the horizon, and it flew near and beckoned to Psyche, her heart heavy with hope and fear … The horse mounted up; it beckoned to her … She gave a sign that she could not; and oh! she feared that it would speed away again, the horse with the strong wings.
No … no … the horse descended!
Then Psyche uttered a joyful cry, sprang up, danced with delight and clapped her little hands. From the lofty, lofty sky the horse came down, gliding on his broad wings. It came down.
And Psyche, the little, joyful, excited Psyche, saw it coming, coming down to her. It descended—it approached. Oh, what a beautiful horse it was! Greater than the greatest horses, and then with wings! Fair it was, fair as the sun, with a long curly mane and long flowing tail, like a streamer of sunny gold. The noble head on its arched neck proudly raised and its eyes shone like fire, and a stream of breath came from its expanded nostrils, cloud after cloud. Big, powerful, muscular, its wings were stretched out like silvery quills, as Psyche had never seen in a bird. And its golden hoofs struck the clouds and made them thunder; and sparks of fire shot forth in the pure, clear daylight. Enraptured Psyche had never seen such a beautiful horse before, never a bird so beautiful; and breathless, with her head raised, she waited till it should descend, descend on the terrace … At last there it stood before her. Its nostrils steamed, and its hoofs struck sparks from the basalt rock, and it waved its mane and swished its tail.
“Splendid, beautiful horse,” said Psyche, “who are you?”
“I am the Chimera,” answered the horse, and his voice sounded deep as the clang of a brazen clock.
“Can you really speak?” asked Psyche, astonished. “And fly? Oh, how happy you must be!”
“Why have you called me, little princess?” said the Chimera.
“I wanted to see you quite near,” replied Psyche. “I only saw you dart like winged lightning through the air, so soon were you away again; and I was always sorry when I could not see you any more. Then I became, oh, so sad!”
“And why did you want to see me quite near, little princess with the wings?”
“I find you so beautiful. I have never seen anything so beautiful; I did not know that anything so beautiful existed. What are you? A horse you are not. Nor a dragon either, nor a man. What are you?”
“I am the Chimera.”
“Where do you come from?”
“From far away. From the lands which are beyond the lands, from the worlds beyond the worlds, from the heavens beyond the heavens.”
“Where are you going?”
“Very far. Do you see those distant regions yonder, of silver and opal? Well, thousands of times so far I am going … I go from illimitableness to illimitableness; I come from nothingness and I am going to nothingness.”
“What is nothingness?”
“Everything. Nothingness is as far as your brain can think, my little princess; and then still farther, and nothingness is more than all that you see from this high tower …”
“Are you never tired?”
“No, my wings are strong; I can bear all mankind on my back, and I could carry them away to the stars behind the stars.”
“If Astra knew that!”
“Astra knows it. But she does not want me. She reckons out the stars with figures.”
“Why do you fly from one end to the other, O splendid Chimera? What is your object? What are you for?”
“What is your own object, little Psyche? What are you yourself for? For what are flowers, men, the stars? Who knows?”
“Astra …”
“No, Astra knows nothing. Her knowledge is founded on a fundamental error. All her knowledge is like a tower, which will fall down.”
“I should like to know much. I should like to know more. I should like to seek far through the universe. I long for what is most beautiful … But I do not know what it is. Perhaps you yourself are what is most beautiful, Chimera … But why are you now spreading out your wings?”
“I must go.”
“So soon? Whither? Oh, why are you going so soon, splendid Chimera?”
“I must. I must traverse illimitableness. I have already stayed here too long.”
“Stay a little longer …”
“I cannot. I may not.”
“Who compels you, O powerful horse, quick as lightning? …”
“Power.”
“What is power?”
“God …”
“Who is God? Oh, tell me more! Tell me more! Don’t go away yet! I want to ask you so much, to hear so much. I am so stupid. I have longed so for you. Now you have come, and now you want to go away again.”
“Do not ask me for wisdom; I have none. Ask the Sphinx for wisdom, ask me for flight.”
“Oh, stay a little longer! Don’t flap so with your flaming wings! Who is the Sphinx? O Chimera, do not give me wisdom, but flight!”
“Not now …”
“When, then?”
“Later …”
“When is that?”
“Farewell.”
“O Chimera, Chimera! …”
The horse had already spread out his wings broad. He was ascending. But Psyche suddenly threw both her arms round his neck and hung on to his mane.
“Let me go, little princess!” cried the horse. “I ascend quickly, and you will fall, to be dashed to pieces on the rock! Loose me!”
And slowly he ascended …
Psyche was afraid; she let go her arms; she became dizzy, fell against the pinnacle, and bruised one of her wings. That pained her … but she heeded it not; the horse was already high in the air, and she followed his track with her eyes …
“He is gone,” thought she. “Will he come again? Or have I seen him for the first and last time?
“As a dream he came from far-off regions, and to still farther regions he has gone … Oh, how dull the world seems! How dead is the horizon! And how dizzy I feel … My wing pains me …”
With her hand she smoothed the wrinkle out of her wing; she stroked it till it was smooth again, and tears ran down her cheeks.
“Horrid wings! They cannot fly, they cannot follow the strong Chimera! I’m in such trouble, such trouble!! But … no … Is that trouble? Is that happiness? I know not … I am very happy! … I am so sorrowful … How beautiful he was! how strong, how sleek, how splendid, how quick, how wise, how no
ble, how broad his wings! How broad his wings! How weak I am compared to him … A child, a weak child; a weak, naked child with little wings … O Chimera, my Chimera, O Chimera of my desire, come back! Come back!! Come back!! I cannot live without you; and if you do not come again, Chimera, then I will not live any longer lonely in this high castle. I will throw myself into the cataract …”
She stood up, her eyes looking eagerly into the empty air. She pressed her hands to her bosom, she wept, and her wings trembled as if from fever.
Then suddenly, she saw the king, her father, sitting at the bow-window of his room. He did not see her, he was reading a scroll. But anxious lest he should see her trouble, her despair, and longing desire, she fled, along the battlements, the ramparts, through the passages and halls of the castle, till she came to the tower, where her nurse sat at her spinning-wheel, and then she fell down at the feet of the old woman and sobbed aloud.
“What is it, darling?” asked the old crone, frightened. “Princess, what is it?”
“I have hurt my wing!” sobbed Psyche.
And she showed the nurse the wrinkle in her wing, which was not yet quite gone.
Then, with soothing voice and wrinkled hand, the old nurse slowly stroked the painful wing till it became smooth.
VI
THE OLD KING, assisted by pages, sat down slowly on his throne; his ministers and courtiers gathered round him. Then there was a great rustling of satin and gold, and in came Emeralda, the Princess Royal, the Princess of the Jewel, as her title ran: first pages, lifeguards, and then she herself, glittering with splendour, in her dress of silver-coloured silk; her bosom blazed with emeralds, a tiara of emeralds adorned her temples; her red-golden tresses, intertwined with emeralds, fell in three-fold plaits down each side of her face, from which the eyes of emerald looked proud, soulless, ice-cold, and arrogant. Court-ladies bore her train. A great retinue of halberdiers surrounded her jewelled majesty, and as she passed along, the trembling courtiers bowed lower to her than they did to the king, because they were in deadly fear of her.
Astra, with dragging step, followed her. She wore a dress of azure covered with stars, a white mantle full of stars, and her living star sparkled in her coal-black hair.
The sages of the country surrounded her: grey-haired men in velvet tabards, with very long silver beards, dim eyes, and wise, close-pressed lips.
The two princesses sat down on either side of the throne.
And for a moment the middle space of the Hall between the waiting crowd remained empty. But then appeared Psyche, the third daughter, the Princess of Nakedness with the wings! Shyly she approached, looking right and left, with the laugh of a child. She was naked: only a golden veil was tied in a fold round her hips. Her wings were spread out like a butterfly’s. She had no retinue: only her old nurse followed her; and she was so pretty and charming that people forgot to bow as she passed along, that the courtiers smiled and whispered, full of admiration, because she was so beautiful in her pure chastity. Slowly she walked along, shy and laughing a little; then close to the throne, where her father saw her approaching hesitatingly, her bare foot got entangled in her trailing golden veil, and to ascend the steps she lifted it up, knelt down, and kissed the king’s hand.
Then calmly she sat down on a cushion at his feet, and was no longer shy. She looked round inquisitively and nodded a greeting here and there, child as she was, till all at once, to the right of the throne, she met the emerald look of Emeralda, and started and shivered; a cold thrill shot through her limbs, and she hid herself in the ermine of her father’s mantle to be safe and warm.
Then there was a flourish of trumpets, and at the door of the Hall heralds announced Prince Eros, the youthful monarch of the Kingdom of the Present. He came in all alone. He was as beautiful as a god, with light-brown hair and light-brown eyes. He wore a white suit of armour over a silver shirt of mail, and his whole presence portrayed simplicity and intelligence.
The courtiers were astonished at his coming without a suite; Emeralda laughed scornfully aside with one of her court-ladies. She did not find him a king, that plain youth in his plain dress. But Eros had now approached and bowed low before the mighty monarch, and the latter bade him welcome with fatherly condescension.
Then spoke the prince:
“Mighty Majesty of the Past, accept my respectful thanks for your welcome. Diffident I come to your throne, for I am young in years, have little wisdom, little power. You reign over an extensive kingdom, the horizon of which is lost in illimitableness. I reign over a country that is not larger than a garden. From my humble palace, that is like a country-house, I can survey all my territory. Your Majesty, in spite of my poverty and insignificance, receives me with much honour and acknowledges me as sovereign in my kingdom; fills my heart with joy. Will your Majesty permit me to kneel and pay my homage to you as an obedient vassal?”
Then the old king nodded to Psyche, and the princess rose, because Eros was about to kneel.
Then said the king: “Amiable Eros, I love you as a son. Tell me, have you any wish that I can satisfy? If so, then it is granted you.”
Then said Eros: “Your Majesty makes my heart rejoice by saying that you love me as a son. Well, then, my greatest joy would be to marry one of the noble princesses, who are your Majesty’s daughters. But I am a poor prince, and whilst confessing to your Majesty my bold desire, I fear that you may think me too arrogant in presuming to cherish a wish that aims so high …”
“Noble prince,” said the king, “you are poor, but of high birth and divine origin, higher and more divine than we. You are descended from the god Eros; we from his beloved Psyche. The history of the gods is to be read in the historical rolls of our kingdom. It would make my heart rejoice if you found a spouse in one of my princesses. But they are free in their choice, and you will have to win their love. Permit me, therefore, first of all to present to you my eldest daughter, the Princess Royal, Princess of the Jewel: Emeralda …”
Emeralda rose, and bowed with a scornful sneer.
“And,” continued the monarch, “in the second place, to my wise Astra, Princess of the Star …”
Astra rose and bowed, her look far away, as if lost in contemplation.
“And would Emeralda permit me to sue for her love and her hand?” asked the prince.
“Majesty of the Present,” replied Emeralda, “my father says that you are of more divine origin than we. I, your humble slave, consider it therefore too great an honour that you should be willing to raise me to your side upon your throne. And I accept your homage, but on one condition, that condition is: that you seek for me the All-Sacred Jewel, Jewel of Mystery, the name of which may not be uttered, the noble stone of Supremacy. The legends respecting this jewel are innumerable, inexplicable and contradictory. But the Jewel exists. Tell me, ye wise men of the land—tell me, Astra, my sister, does the Jewel exist?”
“It exists!” said Astra.
“It exists!” said all the wise men after her.
“It exists!” repeated Emeralda. “Prince, I dare ask much of you, but I ask you the greatest thing that our soul and ambition can think of. If you find me beautiful and love me, then seek, and bring me the Jewel, and I will be your wife, and together we shall be the most powerful monarchs in the world.”
The prince bowed, and with imperceptible irony said:
“Royal Highness of the Jewel, your words breathe the splendour of yourself, and I will weigh them in my mind. Your beauty is dazzling, and to reign with you over the united kingdoms of the Past and the Present, appears to me indeed a divine happiness …”
“For other kingdoms exist not,” added Astra, and the wise men repeated her words.
“Yes,” murmured the king. “There is another kingdom …”
“What kingdom?” asked all.
“The kingdom of the Future,” said the king, in a low tone.
Emeralda laughed scornfully. Astra looked compassionately. The wise men glanced at each other; the courtiers
shook their heads.
“The king is getting old,” they whispered. “The mind of His Majesty often wanders,” muttered the ministers.
“Our monarch has always had much imagination,” said the wise men. “He is a poet …”
But then spoke the prince.
“And you, wise Astra, Royal Highness of the Star, will you, like Emeralda, allow me to sue for your hand and heart?”
“Most willingly, Prince Eros!” said Astra, with a far-off look and in a vague tone.
“But I have conditions to make as well as Emeralda, the Princess Royal. Will you hear them? Then listen. If you see any chance of lengthening my telescope, of strengthening the lenses, that I can see through them to the confines of the universe, to the last sun-system, to the Mystic Rose, to the Godhead Himself, then I will be your wife, and together we shall be the most powerful beings of the world, because then we are omniscient. For the universe is limited …”
“The universe is limited!” said the wise men, after her.
“Endless is the universe!” said the king, in a subdued voice.
The people laughed and shook their heads.
“The king is getting very old,” was repeated everywhere.
“The king will soon die,” prophesied the wise men, in a low tone. “He speaks like an old man, without reason; he will soon die …”
“Royal Highness of the Star,” said the prince, “your words, pregnant with wisdom, I will also consider. For to be omniscient must indeed be the greatest power. But your Majesty has a third princess,” he continued, addressing the king. “Where is she?”
“She is here,” said the king. “She is the Princess of Nakedness with the wings. But she is still a child, Prince …”
Psyche blushed and bowed.
The prince looked long at her. Then he said to her, gently: “Your Highness is called Psyche? You have the name of the ancestress of your race, as I have the name of the god who begot mine. Is it not true?”
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