Then she put her arm round his neck, and leant her head against his shoulder. “Eros,” said she gently, “I love you.... How shall I express my love to you! You have walked in the track of my tears, my salt tears you have drunk; out of the desert, from the breast of the awful Sphinx, you lifted me in your chariot, drawn by swift griffons.... In my swoon I felt myself going through the air, not with the speed of the fair Chimera, whose hoofs struck lightning and made the thunder roll high in the ether ... but smoothly and evenly on wheels, over the clouds delicately tinted with the glowing dawn. How long did we travel...? How long have I slept? Eros, how shall I express my love to you! My love is deep gratitude, inexpressible, because you rescued me. My love is heart-felt thankfulness, because you have cared for and refreshed me. My love is....”
She paused for a moment, and rose from the bed.
“What, Psyche?” said he gently, and stood up.
“My love is deep, submissive respect, O Eros, because you wanted to weep my tears and give me the wish of my heart, which, had it been fulfilled, would have caused you the most poignant grief.”
She sank upon her knees and took his hand in hers and kissed it long. He lifted her up and pressed her to his breast.
“My gentle Psyche!” said he. “My child and my wife and my tender princess! Kneel not to me. In love it is sweet to give and to suffer. Love gives, and love suffers....”
“I have only suffered, but not given,” said Psyche, in a low tone.
“To suffer is to give most. To give to one we love the suffering of his suffering soul, is the greatest gift that can be given, my child and my princess! Try, with the remembrance sacred to Suffering and Love, endured and loved, to be happy in the Present. Oh, let the Past be a remembrance, a sacred remembrance, a golden remembrance; but now look to the Present. Oh, let the Present comfort you—the Present, little, humble, and poor. Look! this is all. This cupola is my palace, this garden is my kingdom; these flowers and these birds, they are all my treasures—roses and doves and the singing lark. More I have not; but I have still my love—my love, great as the heaven and wide as the universe. But he who lives in love so great, needs no greater palace and no greater kingdom to rule over. For the treasures of Emeralda I would not exchange my kingdom and my love.... Psyche, my queen, yet I have ornaments for you. The Princess of Nakedness with the wings may never wear jewels of precious stones, and jewels I have not. But pearls, Psyche, I have pearls which Emeralda despises. Pearls, Psyche, I found in your tears of yesterday. See! I strung them together, they were a crown for you. Pearls may adorn you, tears may adorn you, my child of suffering, my wife of love, queen of my soul and of my kingdom....”
Then he took a little crown of twelve great pearls and put it on her head. Then he hung a necklace of pearls round her neck. And as she stood before him naked, so immaculately delicate in her princessly nakedness, he threw around her loins a light, thin veil, richly adorned with pearls, and which she fastened in a knot. Then he gave her a mirror, and she beheld herself very beautiful, crowned like a queen, and smiled with contentment.
“Am I a queen?” she said softly. “Am I happy? Eros, do you love me? Is this the happiness of the Present? Eros, do I love you out of gratitude and respect, my husband and my king...?”