Venus hid her eyes promptly, as even gods cannot deceive with their eyes, and not knowing how to react to such clemency, she just brazenly pressed her lips together and shook her head in disapproval, and said: – No, but your hair is all knotted and twisted by dust. Where have you been again, and where did you tramp needlessly again?- There were no knots in her hair, both knew this very well, but Psyche didn’t get angry even after that, but oblivious to the trick of the guile goddess, she said: -Let it be Nanna, let it be. I will comb dust off and you go rest, you must be so tired.
So Venus leaves the chambers with foul hate and jealousy that she never felt before. She feels taunted by beauty and gentleness equally because gods don’t like mortals to be more worthy, and she starts thinking of a plot so revenge could be hers, leaving other gods unaware of her plans so none of the powerful takes Psyche under his or hers protection. So she conceived to coax her restless and mischievous, but mighty son Cupid to punish her by horrible suffering; one that gods and mortals evenly dread – wrong and wretched love. But she knew Cupid to be of inconsistent and scattered nature, so she asked old, eerie Etruscan underworld god Mantus to cover Psyche chambers with blackness that will hide her beauty of Cupid, allowing him just enough sight so his arrow will find his target. And when it does, Psyche will fall in love with a mountain demon Astride, that will not love her back, but being self-serving and cruel, he will make her life miserable thousand times over. And in that sorrow, Venus knew well, soon her beauty and kindness will disappear too, and she will become vile herself, and evil will soon alter beauty into ugliness.
While Venus conducted her evil plans, one old woman came to the palace and asked to be brought before the king. That was a good king, so he listened to his subjects, their pleads and complaints, helping them if he could and if it was just. That old woman was the very same oracle that bequeath the Agate lamp, from the little village Psyche visited not so long ago.
-I have come to warn you, good king, to a danger that prowls on your happy home. – Her sad and solemn voice has made the king truly dismayed.
-Your youngest daughter is the fairest flower. But that beauty brings her great misfortune, a dark shadow overarch her destiny; a doom of miserable life and early death that she will inflict on herself seeking for sanctuary and justice in the other world. Her kindness and beauty are too grand for this world, and gods fond of human weaknesses and malice are angry. Dark is the path that stretches before her.
Startled by this gloomy premonitions, the king refused to believe, so instead he got irate at the old woman who he thought had to be a scamp, travelling from place to place, earning her dire bred, a caitiff and a charlatan, so he ordered that she be thrown out of the palace. But while she was dragged out of palace hall, she hollered once more.
-She will fall in love with a mountain demon, that has been written, and cannot be changed. But even demons know of love, and a wolf in love becomes a lamb to its heartthrob. Light of Agate must shine for her, only light can save her! Remember good king, only Light of Agate!
But the king became even more enraged than before, so he orders that the old lady gets sent off with a dozen cowhide lashes, as it was usually done to blackguards and liars. Only her age prevented the king from delivering a more severe punishment. But the oracle held no ill will because of that, as the truth of what will come is arduous to comprehend, more than ever if that is something of great horror and misery. The king, as much as he wanted, wasn’t able to free himself of those words, but instead, it lingered in his head like cawing of crows that he could not oust or silence. So, restless, that evening too he went to his daughter chambers to perceive her calm sleep and by doing so maybe quiet evil omens that pursued him. He looks at the beloved being, and this minute stops the time: that is a godly moment, it comes once in a while when a man is close to god, and how – by love intervention. He looks at her – she is breading deeply while visiting what he hoped to be dreams of celestial grasslands and sweet groves. King is appeased by this image, and he goes to blow the light out as he did every night, but at the-spur-of-the-moment sees variegated Light of Agate and remembers the words of an old lady, so leaves the light shining, filled with the undefined and heavy notion of severe injustice he committed that day.