They hastened to the fountain to see why the water had ceased flowing. Gyges found a small fish caught in the opening. The little fish was dead.
“What means this omen?” he asked, in a tone of sadness.
There flashed upon his mind that so, too, the spontaneous flow of their happiness, which he had so lately likened to the play of the fountain, might be checked by death.
“Is the fish dead?” she asked, affrighted.
“Ay, my love.” Then, after a long silence, he added with an air of sad conviction, “Some one whom we love is dead.”
“Say not so, O lover,” cried Psyche. “This cannot mean anything to us. But look! Even the sun has left us.”
“Evening is drawing near,” he sadly responded.
“Come, let us go home,” said Psyche, tearfully.
Silently they took a last look at their new home, said farewell to Nana, went out into the street, and proceeded along the Via Appia. When they reached the street that led to Psyche’s home, they concluded to walk farther and view the Campagna and the hills beyond, lit up by the setting sun.