Psyche's Despair

Psyche lay in the grass where she had fallen, sobbing. She did not understand why Cupid had left her. Neither did she understand what she had done wrong. Yes, he had told her not to look at his face, but why was that so important? Did he expect her to love him and never know what he looked like, never to gaze into his eyes? Not only was that unfair, it was not realistic. Even the blind longed to see the faces of loved ones. How much more intense the longing of one who was sighted and yet forbidden to see?

But who was she to question a god? Especially the god of love. She had disobeyed a god's command, but she had not known he was a god when he commanded her not to look on him. If he had told her he was a god, of course she would have obeyed. But he had not. He had kept her in ignorance of his true identity. Did he not understand that what is forbidden to mortals is what they will crave the most?

But none of that mattered now. Cupid had left her. Now there was an emptiness inside her as great as her love for him. How was she supposed to continue living when her reason for living had left her?

She returned to the palace to look for her sisters. They had said they would help her kill her monstrous husband. Psyche looked in all the rooms but her sisters were not there. But in one of the rooms, she noticed that practically all the jewelry was missing.

How foolish she had been to believe them. Her husband had warned her about them, but she had refused to believe him. She had also ignored all she knew about Thomasina and Calla and how they had always been jealous of her, how they had never cared for anyone except themselves.

Betrayed by her sisters and abandoned by Cupid, Psyche could not bear to remain in the palace another moment. Not only was there no life for her at the palace, there was no life for her anywhere now.

Sun had begun his day and, eager as always to see Psyche, he had just risen above the mountains surrounding the valley when she walked across the meadow and into the woods. Her head was bowed, her shoulders slumped, and tears poured down her face.

Sun watched as she emerged from the woods and continued toward the river, whose currents were so dangerous even fish were afraid to swim in it. Realizing what Psyche was intent on doing, Sun shouted, "Psyche! Psyche!" But he was too far away. She could not hear him.

Unable to do anything to stop her, Sun did not want to watch. Vowing never again to let his emotions get involved in the affairs of humans, he closed his eyes.

When Psyche reached the river, she did not hesitate. She leaped into the furious, roiling waters. However, the river owed its existence to the god she despaired of ever seeing again. But the river knew him better under his other names, Eros and Phanes. From him light had first emanated; it was he who had set the universe in motion and created the sun, moon, sky, and earth. Such was the power of love that it banished primeval chaos. The waters, beasts, winds, trees, and birds remembered Eros and how he chose to enter the affairs of humans in the guise of Cupid, son of Venus, and they would never harm the one he had chosen as his beloved. Nor would they allow her to harm herself. So the river drew itself up into a wave, lifting Psyche and placing her gently back on the land.

Psyche lay on the ground, sobbing. If she could not kill herself, what she was supposed to do? Was it possible for someone to cry for her entire life? Were there that many tears in her body? She knew there were.

The sound of crying attracted the attention of Pan, the god of sheep and goats, pastures and woodlands. He liked to dance in nature while playing on pipes of reeds, which are called—what else?—panpipes, of course. Pan loved women, but with the legs and feet of a goat and with horns growing from his head, he was quite ugly. He was so ugly that people were frightened when they saw him and would go into a panic.

More than all the gods, Pan knew what it was like to love and have that love rejected. Seeing Psyche lying in the grasses, sobbing, he knew that crying of such violence came only from love unfulfilled.

He went to her, knelt beside her, and said quietly, "Beautiful lady. I am old and I have loved much. Alas, to no avail. No one will have me because the sincerity and strength of my love is not enough to overcome my ugliness. You would think a lifetime of loving and not being loved in return would have made me bitter. But it has not. I believe that one day I will find the one who will love me as I love her.

"I know your heart is aching in grief, but the cure is not to kill yourself. You must find the one you love. Go. Do not sit here crying. Go. Your beloved will not be stubborn and foolish forever."

Psyche continued sobbing. When her sobbing eventually slowed, she realized Pan was right. Why should she be miserable for the rest of her life? Better to search everywhere for Cupid than feel sorry for herself. Though he lived on Olympus, he came to the world of mortals often to create as well as destroy love. Who could say that she would not see him on one of his visits?

In the distance she heard the sound of panpipes. Smiling, she arose and began walking away from the river.

Chapter end