![]() Psyche is in the dark about her own story, and her worst fears about her fate have been murkily stirred. ![]() The darkness must rather be hers: the innermost recesses of her fantasy, which has been filled with shadows by her sisters’ malicious talk about the nature of her bridegroom. ![]() Could it ever be so pitch dark, even in the depths of the night, that she couldn’t tell a cannibal beast of hideous aspect from the delightful youth, all golden and curly, who appears in the glow of her forbidden lamp? Even discounting her other senses, she would have glimpsed something of her mysterious husband. The prohibition that Psyche breaks, when she lights a lamp and looks on the sleeping form of her lover beside her, could only belong in a poetic order of reality.
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