“’Tis best thou shouldst not,” replied her lover.
“But what means the arrest, O Gyges?”
“I know not, O love,—but we must go. Soldiers have no hearts. Be brave, my Psyche! Pray to the gods for strength.”
“But there,” he suddenly exclaimed, “is a tunic!”
Hastily taking up the garment from which Hera had begun to remove the cloth that held Gannon’s message, Gyges gave the tunic to Psyche, saying, “’Tis Gannon’s.”
“Ah, ’tis poor comfort to see only his tunic,” she said, as she kissed it. “But look!” she quickly added, “here is some writing! Come to the light and read the words.” When they reached the small courtyard, she read: “Have done wrong. Read a letter from L to S about Lygdus.”
“Come, you must go!” roughly commanded the soldier, opening the door.
Gyges received permission to accompany Psyche, and the sorrowful lovers left the house. The walk to the camp was a painfully sad one. They both recalled their happy afternoon in their future home. Fresh tears gushed from Psyche’s eyes when they passed the street on which the house stood. As they went along, Gyges, who had been trying to unravel the mystery of Gannon’s message, suddenly whispered to Psyche, “Oh that we had not seen that writing!”
“Why, what harm can those words do? They were the last we shall ever hear from him,” whispered Psyche through her sobs.
“Nay, my love; I fear they are dangerous.” Then he added apprehensively, “I know Lygdus.”