Page:Psyche (1908).djvu/158

. “Here is a mantle. Here is a cord for your loins. And here is a mat to sleep on. And here is bread, here is the water-pitcher. Eat, drink, cover yourself, and rest.”

“Thanks, holy father. But I am not tired, I am not hungry and thirsty. I am only naked, and I thank you for your mantle and your cord.”

She put on the mantle as a penance-garb, and whilst, red with shame, she covered herself, the hermit saw on her shoulder-blades two blood-red scar-stripes.

“Are you wounded?”

“I was, long ago. . . .”

“Your eyes glow: have you a fever?”

“I do not know men’s fever, but my soul is always burning like a cave in hell.”

“Who are you?”

“One heavy burdened with sin.”

“What is your name?”

“I have no name now, holy father. . . . Oh! ask no more. . . . And let me go.”

“Whither are you going?”

“Far, along the way of thistles, to the royal castle. To the Princess Emeralda.”

“She is proud.”