Psyche was now alone with her thoughts. The solitude tossed in her grief like the waves of the sea. She lost her head and began to banish all her spouse's warning and her own promises. After all, her sisters had made some solid stabs. It was true that she had never seen her lover's face, and she had no knowledge whatsoever of what her companion was. She merely heard the voice and was constantly warned against seeing what the owner of it looks like, and threatened with great disaster if she showed curiosity. What if her sisters' warning was genuine?
But the only way to know it was to see. And as dusk began to fill the sky, Psyche got up and poured the oil into a well-trimmed wick. Then she concealed it beneath the cover of an enclosing jar. Though her plan was formed and her determination
