While Psyche stood on the ridge of the mountain, panting with fear and with eyes full of tears, the gentle Zephyr raised her from the earth and bore her with an easy motion into a flowery dale.  By degrees her mind became composed, and she laid herself down on the grassy bank to sleep.  When she awoke refreshed with sleep, she looked round and beheld near by a pleasant grove of tall and stately trees.  She entered it, and in the midst discovered a fountain, sending forth clear and crystal waters, and fast by, a magnificent palace whose august front impressed the spectator that it was not the work of mortal hands, but the happy retreat of some god.  Drawn by admiration and wonder, she approached the building and ventured to enter.  Every object she met filled her with pleasure and amazement.  Golden pillars supported the vaulted roof, and the walls were enriched with carvings and paintings representing beasts of the chase and rural scenes, adapted to delight the eye of the beholder.  Proceeding onward, she perceived that besides the apartments of state there were others filled with all manner of treasures, and beautiful and precious productions of nature and art.

While her eyes were thus occupied, a voice addressed her, though she saw no one, uttering these words:  “Sovereign lady, all that you see is yours.  We whose voices you hear are your servants and shall obey all your commands with our utmost care and diligence.  Retire, therefore, to your chamber and repose on your bed of down, and when you see fit repair to the bath.  Supper awaits you in the adjoining alcove when it pleases you to take your seat there.”

Psyche gave ear to the admonitions of her vocal attendants, and after repose and the refreshment of the bath, seated herself in the alcove, where a table immediately presented itself, without any visible aid from waiters or servants, and covered with the greatest delicacies of food and the most nectareous wines.  Her ears too were feasted with music from invisible performers; of whom one sang, another played on the lute, and all closed in the wonderful harmony of a full chorus.

She had not yet seen her destined husband.  He came only in the hours of darkness and fled before the dawn of morning, but his accents were full of love, and inspired a like passion in her.  She often begged him to stay and let her behold him, but he would not consent.  On the contrary he charged her to make no attempt to see him, for it was his pleasure, for the best of reasons, to keep concealed.  “Why should you wish to behold me?” he said; “have you any doubt of my love? have you any wish ungratified?  If you saw me, perhaps you would fear me, perhaps adore me, but all I ask of you is to love me.  I would rather you would love me as an equal than adore me as a god.”

This reasoning somewhat quieted Psyche for a time, and while the novelty lasted she felt quite happy.  But at length the thought of her parents, left in ignorance of her fate, and of her sisters, precluded from sharing with her the delights of her situation, preyed on her mind and made her begin to feel her palace as but a splendid prison.  When her husband came one night, she told him her distress, and at last drew from him an unwilling consent that her sisters should be brought to see her.