Hera.
It was at that moment, I suppose, that you besought Zeus so passionately to confer upon Psyche the rank of a goddess?
Eros.
You took that, no doubt, for an evidence of my intenser infatuation. An error; it was a proof that the arguments of the family were beginning to produce their effect
upon me. I perceived my responsibility, and I recognised that it was not the place of the immortal organiser of languishment to be sighing himself. To deify my lovely Psyche was to recognise her claim, and—and——
Hera.
To give you a convenient excuse for neglecting her?
Eros.
It is that crudity of yours, Hera, which has before now made your position in Olympus so untenable. You lack the art of elegant insinuation.
Hera.