“Oh, I don’t trouble myself with such fine-drawn distinctions. If you pronounce the service over us, I will take the rest for granted. As I was telling Psyche the other day, it’s not worth while looking beyond this world. If she is mine here, I’ll risk our getting separated hereafter.”
“Hereafter may not be far off,” said the guest, more gravely than he had yet spoken. “You were best not to leave it out of the account.”
“Death is my enemy—I can see no good in him!” declared Eros; “and I will do the best I can to have my happiness in spite of him.”
“He doesn’t mean it!” exclaimed Psyche to their friend, in a low, appealing tone. “He knows that only Death can make Love immortal.”
“I must tell you,” observed the guest, after a pause, “that I cannot stay here long; I shall be gone to-night. What I came to do, therefore, must be done soon.”
“To-night!” cried Eros, in astonishment that was half incredulous. Psyche said nothing, but hid her face in her hands and shivered a little.
“I wished to make you happy—happier than you have ever been—if you would let me,” resumed the previous speaker. “Whoever has lofty beliefs will have a lofty fate. If your idea of marriage is high enough, you will not hesitate to come with me to my Paradise. How is it with you, Eros?”
“Not yet,” replied Eros, laughing and shaking his head. “It’s too far off, and the journey is too cold. If you are really determined to leave us, you must go without me. Surely you can’t expect me to be ready to start at such short notice? No, no! I mean to stay by this comfortable fireside for a long time yet, and so shall Psyche.”
“Death has summoned men on shorter notice than this,” said the other. “Think again before you decide.”
“I have decided; and I never change my mind,” said Eros, obstinately.