“Dear child, I know not what thou meanest. We have lived together many days. We have been more than friends. Why dost thou speak so wildly?”
“I am now calm,” said Psyche, breathing a deep sigh. “The path of joy along which I so quickly ran ended on the edge of an abyss.”
“Thy parents are not crazed by confinement?”
“Nay, my lady,” said Psyche, and then relapsed into silence.
“Ah, my child, I begin to understand thee. The abyss is news of fresh anguish for me. Said I not that from the clearest skies anguish sometimes falls? What—what has now happened to my family?”
“Forgive me, my lady, forgive me! Drusus is no more!”
“They have killed him!” cried Agrippina, bewildered.
“He was starved to death, my lady. Oh, let me shed tears for thee, for thine eyes are dry,” said Psyche, as she threw her arms around the neck of her companion and sobbed aloud.
For some time Agrippina uttered no word. Her face had become rigid, her eyes wild. Finally she rose and said: “Come, Psyche, I have been taught how to die. Come, come, come!” The last word was whispered with an indescribable moan.
“Whither goest thou?”