CHAPTER VII
For days had Psyche watched in vain, and all hope died out of her heart.
But one windy morning—the thick white clouds were speeding through the air—she saw the desire of her heart again. Far away appeared a cloud, but as it drew nearer it became a horse: it was the Chimera.
She beckoned to it, and the Chimera came down.
“What do you want, little Psyche?”
She clasped her hands imploringly. “Take me with you. . . .”
“You will become dizzy. . . .”
“No, no. . . .”
He descended, stamping on the basalt rock; the terrace shook, sparks flew up, and the steam of his breath shot out in clouds.
“Take me with you,” she implored.
“Where do you wish to go?”
