Then Emeralda tugged at the reins.
The maddened horses reared, snorting, foaming, panting, trampling, pulling, and dashed against the Sphinx.
But the foremost horses were dashed to pieces against the god-like basalt.
Then Emeralda uttered cry after cry, one hoarse cry after another, which resounded through the desert. She tugged at the reins; the horses, despairing of their attack against the immovable, drove at the Sphinx, and fell back crushed, falling over one another and trampling one another to death; the triumphal chariot split, and the splinters of sparkling jewels flew up like cracking fireworks, and Emeralda fell between the still revolving wheels. And her heart of ruby broke. All her dazzling splendour suddenly faded. The terrifying fan-like aureola suddenly grew dim, and the desert was grey and gloomy, with a gentle rain of thick white ash falling down.
The Sphinx was silent, and looked on....
Chapter XXVII
Psyche was alive again, soaring through the air, and felt so light and ethereal; pearl-whiter she was than ever, and naked.
And on her tender shoulders she felt two new wings fluttering...!
She hovered away over her own dead body into a drifting cloud, a fragrant mist, which farther on she lost sight of; and light, white, and ethereal, she looked with wonder at her trampled corpse and laughed....