CUPID AND PSYCHE. 155 
yet looked into her lover’s face. Clear-mirrored, at 
the end of the grotto stood a fountain, smooth and 
bright as glass ; if she held but one of her silken hairs 
in her finders it was reflected back, and in it she could 
see her own face in the beaded pupils of her matchless 
eyes. Beside the fountain stretched a bed of golden- 
colored moss, and as she had long before persuaded 
Love not to withdraw the light when he was present, 
so did she now entice him to repose upon the golden 
moss, where she could see his image reflected in the 
basin of the fountain, without drawing down upon 
herself the doom of death. And now she could gaze 
upon him for hours, with her eyes bent downwards in 
that clear mirror, while he was so enraptured with her 
matchless beauty, that his glance but seldom wandered 
from her sweet countenance; and so imprinted were 
his features upon her memory, that on every yielding 
substance she had drawn out the faithful features of 
Love. He who had eyes for her alone was a long 
time before he discovered these accurate images of 
himself, and when he did, his first exclamation was, 
“Sweet Psyche, what hand hath done this?” For¬ 
getting Love’s warning for the moment, she looked up 
into his face and answered, “Mine, sweet Love! I but 
