Once, in a certain land, there dwelt a King and Queen who had three daughters—the eldest charming for her bodily grace, the second equally charming for her wit and intelligence. Even as children every one admired these two. But as time went on it began to be noised abroad that the third and youngest was after all the fairest of the three. The name of this one was Psyche. She was retiring, shy perhaps, nor had she all the gifts of her sisters; but it was seen that there was something unearthly in her beauty, some strange light in her countenance which entranced those who gazed upon it. Indeed it was whispered here and there that she was fairer than Aphrodite herself, whom all Nature adores. And some, actually deserting the temples and the service of the foam-born goddess, came and paid their worship to the lovely maiden. To Psyche herself there was no pleasure in all this. The innocent child thought nothing of her own beauty, nor did she care for the renown and worship it brought her. She longed for Love, but these things only served to make a distance between her and other people, and to make love more difficult. She felt sick and lonely, and when presently her sisters, hearing the common talk, became envious and full of unfriendliness, she felt lonelier than ever. But her fame continued to spread, and at last reached the ears of the great Aphrodite herself. Now when Aphrodite heard she was very wroth, and hurrying over the beautiful ocean to the edges of the land, she called her son Eros, and “What is this I hear,” she said, “that my altars are deserted, and men, leaving me, are paying their sacrifices to a maid of mortal birth? Truly I am incensed beyond measure. But I will make this impudent hussy know her place, and who it is that even Zeus, the lord of Heaven, pays homage to. Go thou, my son, and sharpening thy keenest arrow cause her to fall in passionate burning love with some wretch, some renegade, the very lowest of mankind.” Then, sealing her command with a kiss from her fragrant lips, she mounted her rosy ocean-car drawn by white doves, and sped forth over the laughing waves, surrounded by troops of Tritons sounding their melodious shells, and the daughters of Nereus sporting over the deep. But Eros obediently, having selected a dart and disguised himself with the garment of invisibility, went forth to seek Psyche, that he might wound her. And at last, after some searching, far in the Interior of the king’s palace he found her. And lo! as soon as he set eyes upon her, he was wounded himself. He, the god of Love, was overcome by her beauty, and pierced as with an exceeding pain. Yet did he not dare to declare himself, for fear of the anger of his mother; but returning his arrow to the quiver retraced, for the time being, his steps. Meanwhile Psyche sat at home and felt herself lonelier than ever. Though men praised, yet came none to woo her for a bride. Her two elder sisters were already mated, and to powerful chiefs; but she a forlorn virgin, faint in body and weary at heart, bewailed her lonely plight, and loathed her own beauty though it delighted the rest of the world. Thus, and filled with strange forebodings, she sat; till at length her father, foreboding ill himself, suspecting the hostility of the gods, and dreading their anger, determined to consult the ancient oracle of Apollo. And lo! when he did so, the Voice, in words of deepest dread, pronounced as it seemed her inevitable doom. For, “Take her,” it said, “attired as for her funeral to the top of some high crag and leave her there; a wild and tameless husband she shall have, and for her wedding bid the world good-bye.” Then the King, misunderstanding the meaning of the oracle, and the Queen and the whole land with him, were greatly grieved, and plunged in mourning.