She kissed the flower and laid it in the moss.
“Psyche! Psyche! Come!” cried the Bacchantes.
She sprang forward into the midst of the dance.
“Here I am!” she cried wildly. And they dragged her away with them to the wood.
Chapter XVI
When Eros awoke that morning, he found not Psyche by his side. He got up, thinking that she was in the garden, and went out.
The sky was dull and lowering, a mist hung over the hills. The lark had not sung, the cupids were not fluttering about.
“Psyche!” cried he, “Psyche!”
No answer was returned. No sigh rustled in the leaves of the trees; no insect hummed in the grass; the flowers hung down withered on their limp stems. A deathly chilliness reigned around. A fearful presentiment took possession of Eros. He walked along the flower-beds, along the brook.