Then it faded as she shook her head , saying with a regretful sigh , `` I 'm afraid I 've lost the little skill I ever had . '' But she tried , and with great wonder and delight discovered that she could work as she had never done before . She thought the newly found power lay in her longing to see the little face again ; for it grew like magic under her loving hands , while every tender memory , sweet thought , and devout hope she had ever cherished , seemed to lend their aid . But when it was done and welcomed with tears and smiles , and praise more precious than any the world could give , then Psyche said within herself , like one who saw light at last , -- `` He was right ; doing one 's duty is the way to feed heart , soul , and imagination ; for if one is good , one is happy , and if happy , one can work well . '' III `` She broke her head and went home to come no more , '' was Giovanni 's somewhat startling answer when Paul asked about Psyche , finding that he no longer met her on the stairs or in the halls . He understood what the boy meant , and with an approving nod turned to his work again , saying , `` I like that ! If there is any power in her , she has taken the right way to find it out , I suspect . '' How she prospered he never asked ; for , though he met her more than once that year , the interviews were brief ones in street , concert-room , or picture-gallery , and she carefully avoided speaking of herself . But , possessing the gifted eyes which can look below the surface of things , he detected in the girl 's face something better than beauty , though each time he saw it , it looked older and more thoughtful , often anxious and sad . `` She is getting on , '' he said to himself with a cordial satisfaction which gave his manner a friendliness as grateful to Psyche as his wise reticence . Adam was finished at last , proved a genuine success , and Paul heartily enjoyed the well-earned reward for years of honest work . One blithe May morning , he slipped early into the art-gallery , where the statue now stood , to look at his creation with paternal pride . He was quite alone with the stately figure that shone white against the purple draperies and seemed to offer him a voiceless welcome from its marble lips . He gave it one loving look , and then forgot it , for at the feet of his Adam lay a handful of wild violets , with the dew still on them . A sudden smile broke over his face as he took them up , with the thought , `` She has been here and found my work good . '' For several moments he stood thoughtfully turning the flowers to and fro in his hands ; then , as if deciding some question within himself , he said , still smiling , -- `` It is just a year since she went home ; she must have accomplished something in that time ; I 'll take the violets as a sign that I may go and ask her what . '' He knew she lived just out of the city , between the river and the mills , and as he left the streets behind him , he found more violets blooming all along the way like flowery guides to lead him right . Greener grew the road , balmier blew the wind , and blither sang the birds , as he went on , enjoying his holiday with the zest of a boy , until he reached a most attractive little path winding away across the fields . The gate swung invitingly open , and all the ground before it was blue with violets . Still following their guidance he took the narrow path , till , coming to a mossy stone beside a brook , he sat down to listen to the blackbirds singing deliciously in the willows over head .
Close by the stone , half hidden in the grass XXXXX a little book , and , taking it up he found it was a pocket-diary .
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