In a certain city were three daughters of the king, of whom the youngest, Psyche, being exceedingly beautiful, was thought the loveliest of mortals. Her enraptured admirers built altars for her worship as a goddess, and strewed them with flowery garlands. The charming Psyche was too gentle and good to be elated by the homage, however extravagantly expressed, but the hearts of her less beautiful sisters were soon filled with envy and jealousy. Moreover Venus herself, the goddess of beauty, became like a mortal jealous of poor Psyche. Highly offended that her own altars should be neglected for those of an earth-born maiden, she retired in anger to her favorite isle, and there cherished purposes of revenge. Thither her winged boy, Cupid, came quickly at his mother’s call. With tears and many passionate lamentations she told him the story of her wrongs—how Psyche was honored and Venus neglected. “You alone, my son,” she said, “can punish this presumptuous beauty, and make her feel that it is a serious thing to incur the displeasure of the immortals.” When her plans were made known, soothing his mother with fond caresses, Cupid readily promised to execute all her wishes. Then, in obedience to her commands, he hastened away to a luxuriant island in the midst of the ocean, where were two fountains side by side, one clear as crystal, imparting health and happiness to all who drank of the delicious water; the other turbid and of a most deadly nature. Those who tasted its poisoned water were never happy again. From the one, a living fountain, he took water of joy, from the other of sorrow, and placing each in a little amber urn, flew away to the palace of Psyche, where he found her lying upon a couch, fragrant with roses, asleep, and smiling in her pleasant dreams. Too intent on accomplishing his mission to be deterred, even by the sight of such transcendent beauty, silently and lightly as falls a noxious dew upon a gentle flower he shed on her slightly parted lips the fatal drops of grief, and was preparing to wound her with his arrow, when his victim suddenly awoke. The scene was changed and the mischievous, cruel Cupid was now quite overcome with her strange loveliness, and the gentle expression of her lustrous eyes. Filled with remorse for what was done he hastily shed on her golden ringlets the balmy drops of joy, intended for another, and vanished from her sight.