"Thy garner is swept and thy grain is sorted, lady," she replied, "and therein I wrought the little my feeble strength could bear. When I failed the little folk came forth and did the task." Trembling, she waited for the answer, for she feared that in the very first trial she had failed. But Aphrodite answered, "Why dost thou tremble, Psyche? The task is accomplished, and that is all I ask; for well do I know the little folk help only those who help themselves. Two more tasks must thou do before I put thee to the final proof. Seest thou yon shining river? On the other bank graze my flocks and herds. Precious are they beyond all telling, for their skins are of pure gold. Go, now, and fetch me one golden lock by sunset." So saying, she signed to the nymphs to release Psyche, who went at once towards the stream, light-hearted; for this task, she thought, would be no hard one after the last. As she approached the river she saw the cattle feeding on the further bank--sheep and oxen, cows and goats--their golden skins gleaming in the sunlight. Looking about for some means of crossing, she espied a small boat moored among the reeds. Entering it, she unloosed the rope and pushed out into the stream. As she did so, one of the bulls on the further shore looked up from his grazing and saw her. With a snort of rage he galloped down the field, followed by the rest of the herd. Right down to the water's edge they came, lashing their tails and goading with their horns, and an ill landing would it have been for Psyche had she reached the shore. Hastily she pushed back among the reeds, and pondered what she must do; but the more she thought the darker grew her lot. To get one single hair from the golden herd she must cross the stream, and, if she crossed, the wild bulls would goad her to death. At length in despair she determined to meet her doom, if only to show that her love was stronger than death. As she bent over the boat to loose the rope, a light breeze set the reeds a-whispering, and one seemed to speak to her. [Illustration: She unloosed the rope and pushed out into the stream.] "Fair lady, leave us not, for those who reach the further shore return not to us again." "Farewell, then, for ever, gentle reed, for I have a task to do, though I die in the vain attempt." "Ah, lady, stay here and play with us. Too young and fair art thou to die." "No coward is young or fair, kind reed. And before sunset I must win a lock from a golden fleece yonder, or I shall never find my love again." And she let loose the rope.