It was her husband. The Satyr fled through the flags, and Psyche hastened back.
She threw herself into Eros’ arms, who asked her where she had been. And without answering him, she began to cry and hid her face in his breast.
“What is it, little Psyche?” asked Eros. “Are you in trouble? Amongst the roses the boys cry, and by the brook the queen cries. Is there then sadness in my kingdom? Does not Psyche feel happy?”
She wept and shrugged her shoulders, as if to say that she did not know. And she hid her face in his breast.
“Tell me, Psyche, what is the matter?”
She would have liked to tell him, but she could not; a stronger power kept her back.
“Does not Psyche feel happy? Does she long for the Chimera?”
She laid her little hand upon his lips.
“Don’t speak about him. I am not worthy of him. I am not worthy of you, Eros.”
He kissed her very gently.