“Astra, everything is black; clouds are drifting past the stars!”
“Sleep thus in my mantle, sleep thus at my feet. Sleep, my little child, and cover yourself for the night.... Psyche, your old nurse is dead. Psyche, now I am your nurse.... Sleep now by blind Astra....”
Feeling for Psyche, she threw her mantle round her. The night was dark. Astra’s powerless hand dropped over Psyche. Psyche fell asleep.
Chapter XXIII
It was still dark when Psyche awoke. She looked up at Astra, who sat sleeping, her grey head on her breast; faintly shone her star. Very gently, so as not to wake her, Psyche rose, and left the terrace. She knew the way. She went through the halls and passages, down the steps, the endless steps. In the corners sat the sacred spiders, and wove....
Psyche went lower down, to the vaults. There burnt the everlasting lamps. She went among the royal tombs, crystal sarcophagi, and found her father’s coffin. By the lamp, which was always kept burning, she recognised his embalmed, rigid face. The eyes were closed. He knew nothing about her: that she had gone away and come back. Death was between them, and severed them forever.
She kissed the glass, and her tears, round, hard, and red, clattered on the crystal.
She knelt down and tried to pray. In a corner of the vault a black spot moved. It was a big spider with a white cross on its body.
“So, you have come back again.... I knew that you would come. We can escape from nothing. Everything happens as it happens. Everything is as it is. Everything goes to dust; into the pits of the Past, into the power of Emeralda.... Now become a spider like us, weave your web, and be wise....”