“I cannot. My lot is to fly through the air, apparently without an object, but yet with an object; and what that is, I do not know.”
“But what then does the Power want? You fly through the air; the spider spins its web; Emeralda reigns over dust; everything is as it is. Oh, life is comfortless! Chimera, I can hold out no longer! I love you with all my soul, but if you do not descend, then I will loose the knots of your mane, I will let go my arms that are so tired, and then I shall fall down into nothingness....”
“Hold out a little longer. Yonder is the purple desert....”
“Oh, that is beautiful!” she exclaimed. “But you fly past it, always past it...!”
“Do you want to rest, Psyche?”
“Oh, yes....”
“Then I will descend.... Hold out a little longer.” She held him tight, and looked about. He plied his wings with a rapidity that made her dizzy; they blew a wind round Psyche....
In the air there loomed the purple sands on the golden sea, with a pearly border of foam; the azure bananas, which waved their tops in the light-pink ether....
Psyche held her breath.... “Would he descend there...?”
Yes, indeed, he was descending ... he was descending. The purple, she thought, grew pale as soon as he descended; the sea was no longer golden, the foliage no longer blue.... But yet, yet it was beautiful, a dream-conceit, an enchanted land, and he was descending. With his broad wings he glided down. Now he stood still, snorting his breath in a cloud of steam. She glided gently down his back on to the sand, and laughed, and gave a sigh of relief!