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 I have rested; my eyes cease to burn; my hunger is appeased. . . . I have heard sweet music, and everything appeared kind and to love me.”

“Everything in my kingdom is glad that the queen has come. Everything is glad that the queen has awaked.”

“The Queen of the Present,” murmured Psyche.

Then she put her arm round his neck, and leant her head against his shoulder. “Eros,” said she gently, “I love you. . . . How shall I express my love to you! You have walked in the track of my tears, my salt tears you have drunk; out of the desert, from the breast of the awful Sphinx, you lifted me in your chariot, drawn by swift griffons. . . . In my swoon I felt myself going through the air, not with the speed of the fair Chimera, whose hoofs struck lightning and made the thunder roll high in the ether. . . . but smoothly and evenly on wheels, over the clouds delicately tinted with the glowing dawn. How long did we travel. . . .? How long have I slept? Eros, how shall I express my love to you! My love is deep gratitude, inexpressible, because you rescued me. My love is heart-felt