Bring me a golden lock
from every one of them, or you must go your ways and never come back
again."
This seemed not difficult, and Psyche obediently bade the goddess
farewell, and stepped into the water, ready to wade across. But as
Venus disappeared, the reeds sang louder and the nymphs of the river,
looking up sweetly, blew bubbles to the surface and murmured: "Nay,
nay, have a care, Psyche. This flock has not the gentle ways of sheep.
While the sun burns aloft, they are themselves as fierce as flame; but
when the shadows are long, they go to rest and sleep, under the trees;
and you may cross the river without fear and pick the golden fleece off
the briers in the pasture."
Thanking the water-creatures, Psyche sat down to rest near them, and
when the time came, she crossed in safety and followed their counsel.
By twilight she returned to Venus with her arms full of shining fleece.
"No mortal wit did this," said Venus angrily. "But if you care to prove
your readiness, go now, with this little box, down to Proserpina and
ask her to enclose in it some of her beauty, for I have grown pale in
caring for my wounded son."
It needed not the last taunt to sadden Psyche. She knew that it was not
for mortals to go into Hades and return alive; and feeling that Love
had forsaken her, she was minded to accept her doom as soon as might
be.
But even as she hastened towards the descent, another friendly voice
detained her.
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