“How hard they are and cold! What hard, cold tears, Psyche!... Sit down here at my feet. Is the night dark? Are the torches not yet lit? Well, let it be dark, for I see nothing; but I feel you, I feel your hair; now I stroke your head, round and small. I feel along your shoulders, Psyche, little child with wings.... But your wings I do not feel.... Have you none now? Have they been cut off? My star has faded, and your wings are cut; Emeralda triumphs alone! Her gift from the fairy has brought her prosperity. Her heart of ruby feels no pain; she is clad in the majesty of precious jewels. She is hard and beautiful, hard as a stone, beautiful as a jewel.... Psyche, creep close to me.... We can do nothing against her, child. My star is faded, your wings clipt; we have lost our noble rights.... I am old, but you—are you still young? You feel so young, indestructibly young.... You have suffered so, asked and wandered.... not appreciated your happiness, and murdered Eros! Poor child, you a murderess...! You weep rubies ... you will do penance. You are strong, Psyche, and always young.... You will do penance after all your sins! Emeralda has laid penance on you.... To seek the Philosopher’s Stone in the caverns of flaming hell!! O Psyche, the Stone does not exist. The unutterable name is a legend. The Jewel exists only in the pride of man. The universe is limited, the Godhead is not limited; no rays from precious stones can reach the Godhead and rule over God. No looking through lenses of diamond can penetrate the Godhead. It is all pride and vanity. Psyche, there is nothing but resignation. Emeralda is powerful, but more powerful she cannot become....
“In vain will you seek.”
“Yet I will seek, Astra, although it be in vain.... And do you also, sister, lay penance on me.... Let me do penance for Astra, as I do for Emeralda.”
“No, child, I know no penance. There is nothing but resignation. There is nothing but to wait. Everything else is vanity and pride. But do penance, little Psyche. Penance is illusion, yet illusion is pleasant: illusion ennobles. Believe, poor child, in your penance, believe in your illusion. I have never known it. I have always calculated. The colossal numbers roll through my dull and hazy brain in endless series of figures. However you count, you never come to the sum of the endless.... The stars cannot be counted. The farthest sun is incomputable, the divine is limitless. Even the nearest frontier of the Future is beyond computation. There is a sea of unfathomable light.... O Psyche, I am tired, I am blind, and I shall soon die. In this place, here I will stay. Psyche, look through the telescope. Is the night too dark? Do you see anything?”
“The stars give a dim light.”
“Look through the telescope. What do you see? Tell me, what do you see?”
“In the glass, right at the top, I see a dark spot, which emits a few rays. Is that a black star?”
“No, Psyche, that is a spider. Emeralda has sent a spider. The spider has crawled to the top, along the smooth diamond; there the spider weaves his web. And the diamond ... is crumbling to pieces....[”]
“Astra...!!”
“Psyche, creep closer to me.... Let me feel your little round head, your wingless shoulders....”