"No doubt," said the other sister, "she has saved until the last her description of him, since he is the best part of her life here." Poor Psyche knew not what to say. How should she confess that, after these many months, she had never seen her husband; that she knew not at all what manner of man he was? "Why, he's a young man," she replied hesitatingly, "a very young man, and he spends much of his time hunting on the mountains." "Has he blue eyes or brown?" asked the elder sister. "I--why--O, blue eyes," said Psyche. "And his hair," inquired the second sister, "is it straight or curling, black or fair?" "It's--it's straight and--and brown," faltered poor Psyche, who had never before uttered a lie. "Now, see here, my child," said the elder sister, "I can tell from your answers that you've never seen this precious husband of yours. Is not that the case?" Psyche nodded, the tears running down her cheeks. "But he's so good to me," she whispered. "And I promised I wouldn't try to see him." "Good to you! You deluded innocent, of course he's good to you! What did the oracle say? It's plain to be seen that the prophecy has come true and that you are wedded to some fearful monster, who is kind to you now that he may kill and devour you by-and-by." At length, for they were older than Psyche, and she had always been accustomed to taking their advice, they convinced her that her only safety lay in discovering at once what sort of a monster had her in its possession. "Now mind," they counseled her, "this very night conceal a lamp and a dagger where you can reach them easily, and as soon as he is asleep, steal upon him. You shall see what you shall see. And if he's the distorted monster we think him, plunge the knife into his heart." Poor, timid Psyche! Left to herself, she scarce knew what to do. She kindled the lamp, then extinguished it, ashamed of her lack of faith in her kind husband. But when she heard him coming, she again hastily lighted the lamp and hid it, with a sharp dagger, behind a tapestry. When her husband approached her she pretended weariness; she knew that if she allowed him to talk with her, her fears would melt away. "My visit with my sisters has tired me. Let me rest," she pleaded, and her husband, always ready to humor any wish of hers, did not try to coax her into conversation. He threw himself upon the couch, and when his regular breathing told her that he really slept, Psyche arose tremblingly, took up her lamp and dagger and stole to his side. Lifting her lamp high she looked upon--the very god of Love, himself! [Illustration: SHE LOOKED UPON THE GOD OF LOVE]