Psyche

by Louis Couperus

  “I believe so,” murmured Psyche, embarrassed.

  “She is still a child, prince—forgive her!” repeated the king.

  “Will your Majesty not permit me to ask for the hand and heart of your third daughter, the princess?”

  “Certainly, prince; but she is still so young … If she leaves me I shall be very sad. But if she loves you, then I will give her up to you, for then she will be happy …”

  “Tell me, Psyche, will you be my wife?”

  Psyche blushed exceedingly. Her naked limbs blushed, her wings blushed.

  “Prince,” said she hesitatingly and looked bashfully at her father, “you do me much honour. But my sisters are more beautiful and wiser than I. And my father would miss me if I went with you to the ingdom of the Present.”

  “But tell me, Psyche, what conditions do you impose upon me?”

  Psyche hesitated. She was about to exclaim joyfully: “Catch me the Chimera, bind him in a meadow to graze, and give me power over him, that I may mount his back and fly through the air as I like.”

  But she dared not before the whole court and her father. And so she only stammered: “None, prince …”

  “Could you love me?”

  “I don’t know, prince …”

  Psyche was shy. She kept blushing, and all at once began to tremble and weep.

  And she looked round to the king, fled to his arms, hid her face in his beard and sobbed.

  “Prince Eros,” said the king, “forgive her. You see she is a child. Seek for Emeralda’s Jewel, or seek for Astra the Glass which will bring to view the confines of the universe; but leave me my youngest child.”

  Then the prince bowed. An indescribable sadness rose in his soul, like a sea. And pale he stammered, “I obey your Majesty.”

  Then the king descended from his throne and embraced the prince. And whilst the fanfares sounded, he put his arm through the arm of Eros, took Psyche by the hand, and conducted his guest to the banquet, the princesses following, surrounded by the whole court.

  VII

  FOR DAYS had Psyche watched in vain, and all hope died out of her heart.

  But one windy morning—the thick white clouds were speeding through the air—she saw the desire of her heart again. Far away appeared a cloud, but as it drew nearer it became a horse: it was the Chimera.

  She beckoned to it, and the Chimera came down.

  “What do you want, little Psyche?”

  She clasped her hands imploringly. “Take me with you …”

  “You will become dizzy …”

  “No, no …”

  He descended, stamping on the basalt rock; the terrace shook, sparks flew up, and the steam of his breath shot out in clouds.

  “Take me with you,” she implored.

  “Where do you wish to go?”

  “To the islands of opal and silver.”

  “They are too far away.”

  “Take me, then, nearer to them; take me with you where you will.”

  “Are you not afraid?”

  “No.”

  “Will you hold fast to my neck?”

  “Yes, oh yes!”

  “Come, then …”

  She uttered a cry of joy. He bent his knees, and she got up with a beating, thumping heart. Between his flaming wings, on his broad, broad back, she sat almost as safe as in a nest of silver feathers.

  “Trust not to my wings,” he warned her; “I move them at every stroke. They open and shut, open and shut. Hold fast onto my neck. Clasp my mane. If you are not frightened and do not become giddy and sick, you will not fall, however high I go. “Do you dare, Psyche?”

  “Yes.”

  She fastened his mane round her waist, as if it were strong rope of golden flax. She put her arms round his neck.

  “I am ready,” she said courageously.

  He ascended, very slowly, with his broad wings. Under him, under her, the terrace sank away.

  She shut her eyes, she held her breath, and the blood left her heart. Under her the castle sank away.

  “Stop!” she implored. “I am dying …”

  “I thought so, Psyche. You are much too weak. You cannot go up with me …”

  She opened her eyes slightly. She sat on his back in the silver down, where his quills clave to his light-gold loins. And round her, circles of light revolved, one after the other, and made her dizzy.

  “Descend!” she implored. “Oh, descend! I cannot endure it. I have no breath; I am dying.”

  He descended … He stood on the terrace. She slid along his wing to the ground. She put her hands before her face, and when she opened her eyes she was alone.

  Then she was very, very sad. But next day, he appeared again. And, more courageous, she wished to mount him again. He let her do as she desired, and she got on his back. She shut her eyes, but smiled. He went higher and higher with her, without her saying “Descend.” She travelled for a time high up in the air, she opened her eyes and kept smiling; she got accustomed to the rarefied air. The third time he soared away with her; she saw, far below, the royal castle, small as a toy, towers, ramparts; and then she realised for the first time that she had left the castle.

  She thought of the king.

  “Take me back!” she said to the horse commandingly.

  He obeyed her. He took her back. But as soon as he was gone, she longed again for him and the lofty air. And she had but one thought, the Chimera. She no longer cared for the flowers which she had planted between the walls, and the flowers withered. She no longer cared for the swans, and the swans, neglected, followed her in vain, in the green moats; she forgot to crumble bread for them. And she looked at the clouds and she gazed at the wind, thinking only of him, the light-gold horse with the silver wings, because he came on the wind, on the clouds, which thundered when he struck with his hoofs.

  On the day that he did not come, her fair Chimera, she sat pale and lonely, gazing from the battlements, her eyes far away, her arms round her knees. In the evening she nestled in the king’s beard, in the folds of his tabard, but she dared not tell him that she had ridden a wondrous winged horse and flown with him through the air. But on the days that her beloved horse had come and taken her away with him, carefully flapping his wings, her face shone with golden happiness in the apotheosis of her soul, and through the gloomy halls, where sacred spiders, which were never disturbed, wove their webs, rang Psyche’s high voice, and from the faded gobelin the low vault and the motionless iron knights strangely re-echoed the words of her joyous song.

  VIII

  “PSYCHE, where do you wish to go?”

  “To the opal islands, to the seas of light, to the far-off luminous streaks …”

  “Take a deep breath; hold fast on to my neck; twist my mane more tightly round your hand, then we will begin our journey.”

  The clouds sent forth a rumbling sound of thunder; the Chimera’s hoofs shot fire; his wings expanded and shut, and his strong feathers rustled in the air.

  Psyche uttered a cry.

  She had ascended higher than ever before, and under them sank away the castle, the meadows, the woods, the cities, and river; under them, like a map, lay stretched out province after province, desert after desert, the whole Kingdom of the Past. How great it was! How great it was! The frontiers receded from view again and again; far down below rose up town after town; river after river meandered along, mountain-ranges rose up one after the other, now only slightly elevated, then rising arabesquely through the plains. Then there were great waters like oceans, and Psyche saw nothing but white foaming sea. But on the other side of it began again the strand, the land, the wood, the meadows, the mountains, and so on endlessly …

  “How much farther away are the opal islands, the streaks of light I see in the distance, my beloved Chimera?”

  “We have passed them …”

  She raised her head, bent over his streaming neck, and gazed about her.

  “But I do not see them any longer!” she said, astonished. “I se
e wood and meadow, towns and mountains … Is the world, then, the same everywhere? Where are the opal islands?”

  “Behind us …”

  “But I do not see them … Have we passed them without my seeing them? O naughty Chimera, you did not tell me!

  “And where are the luminous streaks of the far-off land?”

  “We are going through them …”

  “I see nothing … Below, land; around, clouds, as everywhere. But no lands of light … And yet there, in the distance, very far away—what is that, Chimera? I see, as it were, a purple desert on a sea of golden water, with winding borders of soft mother-of-pearl; in the desert are oases like pale emerald, palms with silvery waving tops, azure bananas; and over the purple desert trills ether of light crimson, with streaks of topaz … Chimera, Chimera, what is that country? What is that beautiful country? The golden sea with its foam forms a pearly fringe along the shore; the palms wave their tops to a rhythm of aerial music, and the bananas, blue, pink glow in the ether till all is light there! … Chimera, is that the rainbow?”

  “No …”

  “Chimera, is that the land of happiness? Is that the kingdom of happiness? Chimera, are you king there?”

  “Yes, that is my country. And I am king there.”

  “Are we going thither?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you remain there, Chimera? Do we remain there together?”

  “No …”

  “Why not?”

  “As soon as I have reached my purple land, I must go farther … and then back again.”

  “O Chimera, I will not go back! I will forget everything—my father, my country. I will remain there with you!”

  “I cannot … But now pay great attention; we are approaching my kingdom, little Psyche. Look! Now we are going over the sea, now we are approaching the shore, lined with soft mother-of-pearl.”

  “The sea is a dirty green, like an ordinary sea; the borders are sand … You are deceiving me, Chimera! As soon as we approach, then you charm away everything that I saw beautiful.”

  “Now, under us is the purple desert; under us are the oases of pale emerald.”

  “You are deceiving me, Chimera! The desert glows in the strong sun, the oases fade away to nothing, like a meteor … Chimera!”

  “What, Psyche?”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To the land, as far off as you can see …”

  “I care not about it! You always deceive me! You carry me away through endless space, and everything beautiful that I see disappears from my view. But yet … there, behind the horizon, behind the sand of the desert, is a dazzling scene … Are those silver grottos on a sea of light? Does the light there wave like water? Are those groves of light, cities of light, in a land of light? Tell me, Chimera, do people of light live there? Is that Paradise?”

  “Yes, will you go thither?”

  “Yes, oh yes, Chimera. There is happiness, the highest happiness, and there I will remain with you! …

  “We are now approaching it …

  “Let that land of light now stay, the paradise of glowing sunshine; do not charm away the land of happiness, O naughty Chimera: go to it now with me, and descend with me …”

  “We are there …”

  “Descend …”

  He descended.

  “Have we not yet reached the ground of light?”

  “Look below: can you see nothing? …”

  She looked along his wing.

  “I see nothing! … It is night … It is dark … Chimera!”

  “What, little Psyche?”

  “Where is the land of silver light, the land of the people of light. Where is it gone?”

  “Do you not see it?”

  “No …”

  “Then it is gone …”

  “Whither?”

  “Behind us, under us …

  “Why did you not descend sooner?”

  “My flight was too quick, and I could not, Psyche …”

  “You are deceiving me! You could have done so. You would not … Now … now it is night, pitch dark, starless night … There is an icy coldness in the air … O Chimera, take me back …”

  He turned with a swing of his powerful wings. And as he turned, the lightning broke forth and darted zigzag through the air, like smooth-bright electric swords; the black clouds parted asunder with a violent peal of thunder like the clapping of cymbals, a storm of wind arose, the rain fell down in torrents …

  “O Chimera, take me back!”

  She threw herself on to his neck; she hid her face in his mane, and through the bursting storm, whilst at every blow of his hoofs it lightened round them, he winged his way, back with her to her country: the Kingdom of the Past, inky there, in the inky night …

  IX

  THE OLD KING WAS DEAD.

  Black flags hung from the three hundred towers, and cast their dark shadows below.

  A dim light fell, through the bow-windows into the castle, for the three hundred flags obscured the sun.

  With funeral music, that made the heart feel sad, the procession, with long flickering torches, followed the king’s coffin down the steps to the deep vaults below.

  The priests, in black, prayed in Latin; the court, in black, sang the litany; and the princesses, in black, sang alternately a long Latin sentence …

  Behind the coffin walked, first, Emeralda; behind her, Astra her sister; and then little Psyche, wrapped in her black veil. Emeralda sang with a voice of crystal; Astra, distracted, was too late in answering; and Psyche’s voice trembled when she had to sing alone the long monotonous sentence …

  There, in the deepest vault, they placed the coffin, next to the coffin of the king’s father, and kneeling round it, they prayed. The low Roman vaults receded in impenetrable darkness. They sang and prayed the whole live-long day, and Psyche was very tired; and whilst she was kneeling, her little knees quite stiff, she fell asleep against the coffin of her late father. Her last thought had been to kiss the dear old face for the last time, but she felt nothing but the goldsmith’s work, and the great round jewels that were in it hurt her head … Then she fell asleep …

  And when the court had prayed, and all went up the steps again, there above, to do homage to Emeralda, as queen of the Kingdom of the Past, they all forgot Psyche.

  Long, long she slept …

  And when she awoke, she did not know at first where she was.

  Then by the light of the long torches she espied the coffin.

  And through the crystal of the sarcophagus she saw the dead face of the king, and pressed a kiss upon the glass.

  “Dear father!” she whispered, trembling, “why have you gone? I am now quite alone! Of Emeralda I am afraid, and Astra does not think of me; she only thinks of the stars. Father, dear, forgive me! I have deceived you. I have travelled through the air on the back of the flying horse. But father, dear, the horse is beautiful, and I love the Chimera! O father dear, I have deceived you, and now I am alone, and I have nobody who cares for me! You are dead, father, and embalmed, and shut up in gold and crystal and jewels, and do not think of your little daughter. Alone! alone! Awe-inspiring is the castle; three hundred towers rise high up in the air. I have never been in all the three hundred, however much I have wandered. O father, father, why have you left me? Who is there to love me now? Who to protect me now in the world? Father, farewell! I will not stay here; I will go away! I will leave the castle. Great is the world and wicked, but Emeralda is powerful and I am afraid of her. If I remain, she will drive me away with her look and shut me up all my life, and my wings I shall break against the unbreakable lattice.

  “Father, farewell! I will not remain here. I will flee! Whither? Whither shall I flee? I do not know. O father, dear, alone your child remains in the great, unsafe world! Alone! Alone! O father, farewell, farewell! and forever!”

  She rose, she shivered. The dark vaults receded more and more. By the light of the long torches she saw the sacred spiders, whi
ch wove web after web; they were never disturbed.

  “Sacred spider!” said Psyche to a big fat one, with a cross on its back, “tell me where I must go.”

  “You cannot flee,” replied the spider, high up in the dark vault, in the middle of its web. “Everything is as it is; everything becomes as it was; happens as it happens; all goes to dust. Every day sinks into the deep vaults of the dark pits under us; under us everything becomes the Past, and everything comes into the power of Emeralda. As soon as anything is, it has been, and is in the power of Emeralda. Seek not to flee—that is vanity; submit to your lot. The best thing is that you become one of us, a sacred spider, and weave your web. For our web is sacred; our web is indisturbable; and with all our webs, one for the other, we serve the princess and protect her treasures—the treasure of the Past, which behind our weaving go to dust.”

  “But if they go to dust, of what value are they?”

  “Foolish child, dust is everything. The Past is dust; remembrance is dust. Everything becomes dust; love, jewels—all becomes dust, and the sacred dust we watch over behind our webs. Become a spider like us, weave your web and be wise.”

  “But I live. I am young, I desire, I love, and I cannot bury myself in dust … Oh, tell me whither I must flee!”

  The spider laughed scornfully, and moved its eight legs with great impatience.

  “Ask me not about the places of the world—the regions of the wind. I sit here and spin. I am holy. I watch over the treasure of the throne. Disturb me no more with your frivolity, and let not your wings get entangled in the rays of my web, although you are not a moth, but princess of the Kingdom of the Past …”

  Psyche was frightened. The spider reverenced her because she was a princess, but coveted with his wicked instinct … And she drew back. She cast a last look at the dead face of her father, and fled up the hundred steps. In every corner sat the sacred spiders and moved their legs. Shuddering, she fled on. Whither? She thought of her love, the light-gold Chimera, but nowhere could he be with her for ever. She glided with him through the air, and he brought her back to the castle. His lot was to fly restlessly through the air. Oh, were she but a Chimera like him, had she but two strong wings instead of princesses’ wings, she would have gone with him everywhere! …