inviting her to ramble. They were beyond imagination lovely. Here stood
a statue showered over with roses; there fountain on fountain played
and threw a refreshing spray so high in the air that her eyes could
scarcely reach to its summit. But what most surprised her was that
every nook and corner recalled those she had seen in her dreams with
the unknown _Prince_ standing beside her. At length she came to the
long canal with the oranges and myrtles in the shade of which she had
first seen him approach. It was the very spot, and she could no longer
disbelieve that her dreams were real. She felt sure, now, that he must
somehow be imprisoned here, and resolved to get at the truth that very
evening, should the _Beast_ repeat his visit.
Tired at length of wandering, she returned to the palace and
discovered a new room full of materials for work to engage the most
idle--tape-bags, distaffs and shuttles, frames for tapestry, ribbons to
make into bows, silks for embroidery, scissors, and thimbles. Beyond
this needlework room a door opened upon the most wonderful sight of
all--an aviary full of the rarest birds, yet all so tame that they flew
to _Beauty_, and perched themselves on her shoulders.
'Dear birds,' she said, 'I wish you were closer to my own room, that I
might sit and hear you singing.'
She had scarcely said it when, opening a door beyond the aviary, she
found herself in her own chamber--yes, her very own!--which she had
thought to be quite on the other side of the building. The door,
when she came to examine it, had a shutter which could be opened to
hear, and closed again when she grew tired of it. This aviary opened
on another inhabited by parrots, parroquets, and cockatoos. These no
sooner saw _Beauty_ than they began to scream and chatter; one wishing
her 'Good morning,' another inviting her to luncheon, while a third yet
more gallant cried 'Kiss me! Kiss me!' Others again whistled airs from
grand opera or declaimed pieces of poetry by the best authors. It was
plain that in their several ways they all had the same object--to amuse
her.
Beyond the aviaries lay a monkey house. Here were apes of all
sorts--Barbary apes, mandarin apes, apes with blue faces, baboons,
marmosets, chimpanzees--and all came frisking about her, bowing and
scraping, to show how much they appreciated the honour of this visit.
To celebrate it they stretched a tight-rope and danced, and threw
somersaults with an agility which _Beauty_ found highly diverting; and
yet she could not help sighing that none of these animals were able to
tell her news of her unknown _Prince Charming_. She patted and made
much of them, however, and asked if some of them would be kind enough
to come with her and keep her company.
At once, and as if they had only been waiting for this command, two
large she-apes in sweeping court-dresses stepped to her side and became
her maids of honour; two brisk little marmosets volunteered for pages
and held up her train; while an affable baboon, his face wreathed with
smiles, bowed, presented a gloved hand, and begged leave to squire her.
With this singular escort _Beauty_ marched back to luncheon, and while
she ate it the birds piped and fluted around her for accompaniment to
the parrots, who lifted up their voices and chanted the latest and most
fashionable tunes. Nay more; the meal was no sooner ended than the apes
begged her to allow them to entertain her with a light comedy; which
(leave being granted) they proceeded to act in a highly creditable
manner and with appropriate dumb-show, while the parrots spoke the
words from the wings very distinctly and in accents that exactly
conformed with the various parts. At the close one of the actors
advanced, laid his hand on his heart and--still with the parrot for
interpreter--thanked _Beauty_ for the indulgence she had shown to their
poor efforts.
That night again, after supper, the _Beast_ paid her his accustomed
visit. He put the same questions, and received her answers as before;
and, as before, the conversation ended by his taking leave of her with
a 'Good night, _Beauty_.' The two she-apes, as ladies-in-waiting,
thereupon undressed their mistress and saw her to bed. Before
leaving they thoughtfully opened the window-shutter, that the soft
night-warbling of the birds might soothe her to sleep and dream of her
lover.
In this fashion day followed day, and still _Beauty_ found plenty to
amuse her. At the end of a week she made the most wonderful discovery
of all. There was one large room which she had entered but once,
because it seemed to her rather dull, and dark too. It was empty; and
although it had four windows in each wall, but two of them admitted
any light. One day, as she passed the door, the fancy took her to open
one of these windows. She stepped in and drew the shutter, when to her
astonishment it opened, not upon daylight at all, but what seemed to be
a dim hall lit only by a glimmer, distant and faint, behind the chinks
of a thick curtain at the further end. She was wondering what this
might mean, when the curtain went up and in a sudden flood of light she
found herself gazing, as from a box, into a theatre crowded from floor
to ceiling, and with an audience brilliant in dresses and jewels.
An orchestra played the overture, and gave place to the actors--real
actors this time, not apes and parrots. The play was charming, and
_Beauty_ in ecstasy with every scene of it. When the curtain fell
she still lingered in her box, hoping to see the fashionable crowd
disperse; but somewhat to her chagrin the lights went out almost at
once and the theatre was dark again. Still it had been very pleasant,
and she promised herself to become a constant playgoer.
That evening when the _Beast_ paid his visit, she told him all about
the comedy. 'Eh? You like that sort of thing, do you?' asked the
monster. 'Well, you shall have as much of it as you like. You are
so pretty.' _Beauty_ could not help smiling inwardly at his clumsy
compliments. But she smiled no longer when he put to her once again his
blunt question:--
'_Beauty_, will you be my wife?'
'No, _Beast_,' she answered as before; but she was really beginning to
get frightened, he was so gentle and so persistent. She sat up so long
thinking over this that it was almost daylight before she closed her
eyes in bed; and at once, as if impatient at being kept waiting, the
lover of her dreams presented himself. Perhaps for this reason he was
not in the best of tempers; at any rate he taxed her with being moody
and discontented.
'I should be happy enough,' she answered, 'if the _Beast_ did not
pester me so. I--I almost think, by his foolish compliments, that he
would like me to marry him.' _Beauty_ expected her dream-lover to show
some jealousy at this; seeing that he merely stood glum, she went on,
'Would you really be content if I married him?... but alas! no; were he
as charming as he is hideous, you know that I love you and can never
love any one else.' By all rights the _Prince_ should have been in
raptures at this avowal; but all his answer was: 'Dearest, love him
who best loves you. Do not be led astray by appearances, and so you
will free me from captivity. 'This was not only puzzling; it seemed to
_Beauty_ to be just a little selfish. 'At least,' she said, 'tell me
what to do! Since liberty appears to be your first wish, believe me, I
would liberate you at any sacrifice, if only I knew how.' But this was
what she could never discover; and because of it her nights now, though
she longed for them, troubled her more than her days.
Her days passed pleasantly enough, and still in fresh discoveries. One
by one in their turn she opened the windows of the great hall, and they
revealed:--
First, a grand performance of Opera; and she listened not to the
singers only, but to the murmur of the audience between the acts. To
listen to this and to gaze on human faces, gave her an inexpressible
pleasure.
Next, a great Fair in progress. When first she looked the throng had
not arrived and she inspected the booths at leisure, with their various
wares. As the spectators drifted in, the drums began to beat, the hobby
horses to revolve, the showmen to shout, the marionettes to perform in
their little theatre. It was ravishing.
After this she beheld a fashionable promenade, with a richly dressed
crowd passing, re-passing, exchanging good-days, remarking how superb
was the weather, and pausing to con and criticise the shop windows to
right and left.
The next spectacle was a gaming-room, with the players seated at their
cards or roulette, the croupiers spinning the ball or raking the money.
_Beauty_, with nothing to stake, had leisure to observe their faces,
and how sadly some left the tables who had come smiling with money in
their pockets. She saw, too, that some were being cheated; and it vexed
her, because she could not warn them.
Next, she was gazing at the Royal Palace, where the King and Queen were
holding a reception. She saw ambassadors with their wives, lords and
ladies and state counsellors; and watched them as they passed by the
throne making their lowest bows.
A water picnic followed this. The boats lay moored alongside a bank
where the merry-makers sat or lounged and talked to the sound of lutes.
The picnic ended in a ball, with violins playing and couples advancing
and retreating on the waxed floor that shone in the light of a thousand
candles. Oh, how _Beauty_ longed to be one of the dancers!
But perhaps the last window gave her the most pleasure. For through
it she was able to see the whole world at one gaze and all that was
going on in it. State embassies, royal weddings, coronations, pageants,
armies, revolutions, sieges, pitched battles--she could sit at her ease
and watch them all, which was far more amusing than it is to read about
them in a newspaper.
She ought, you will say, to have been happy as the day was long.
But no: a life becomes flat and stale which is a perpetual round of
pleasure and leaves nothing to sigh or to hope for. _Beauty_ began
to long for a sight of her father and her brothers and sisters. She
concealed this for a while, however, and turned her thoughts to what
was more pressing; for she could not beg leave to go home until
something had been done to rescue her dear Unknown and restore him to
liberty. The _Beast_ alone (she reflected) could tell her the secret;
and she thought to herself that, being himself so blunt of speech,
he would forgive some bluntness in her. So one evening she asked him
point-blank: '_Beast_, are we alone in this palace, with nobody but
ourselves?'
'Of course we are,' he answered gruffly; but the question appeared in
some way to sting him, for almost at once he rose and bade her good
night.
Now _Beauty_, whatever else she thought of the _Beast_, had by this
time learnt to trust him for honest. It was a dreadful disappointment,
therefore, to be forced to believe on his word that her _Prince
Charming_ had no existence outside of her fancy. She slept ill that
night. In her dream she was wandering again and sorrowfully alongside
the canal when her lover appeared and took her hands between his while
he scanned her face all bathed in tears.
'What has gone wrong, dear _Beauty_?' he demanded. 'Why are you in this
distress?... Ah, it is the _Beast_ who persecutes you! But, never fear,
you shall be delivered here and now from his attention'--and with these
words the _Prince_ snatched out a dagger and rushed on the monster,
who now for the first time came into the dream, advancing slowly down
the bank of the canal. Strange to say, he offered no resistance even
when the dagger almost touched his throat. But _Beauty_, whom an unseen
power held back as she would have run to prevent the murder, on the
instant found voice to cry, 'Stay! Stay, rash fool! or kill me before
you kill him who has been my best friend!' 'Friend?' answered back
the _Prince_, still with his dagger lifted; 'and am I no more than
that?' 'You are an unfaithful one, at any rate,' persisted _Beauty_;
'if, knowing well that I would lay down my life for you, you would
take the life of one who has done me so much kindness. 'But while she
pleaded the figures wavered in her dream, still struggling together,
and vanished, giving place to the same stately lady she had seen in
her former vision. 'Courage, _Beauty_!' said this fresh phantom; 'your
happiness is not far off, if only you will go your own way and trust
not to appearances.'
This dream left _Beauty_ so uneasy that next day she opened one window
after another to cure her restlessness; and, when this would not do,
all the windows together; but still in vain. That night, when the Beast
paid his usual visit, he detected almost at once that she had been
weeping, and demanded the reason.
'Ah, sir,' said _Beauty_, 'if only I might go home!'
'You wish to go home? 'The _Beast's_ face turned pale--which, for such
a face, was no easy matter. He staggered backwards with a deep sigh,
or rather, a roar of grief. 'Ah, _Beauty_, _Beauty_! Would you desert
a poor _Beast_? What more can I do to make you happy? Or is it because
you hate me, that you wish to be gone?'
[Illustration: Ah! what a fright you have given me! she murmured.]
'No, _Beast_,' answered _Beauty_ gently; 'I do not hate you, and I
should be very sorry never to see you again. But I do long to see my
own people. Let me go home for two months only, and I promise to come
back and stay with you for the rest of my life.'
The _Beast_ had fallen flat and lay along the carpet at her feet. His
eyes were closed, and for some while his heavy sighs alone told her
that he was neither dead nor in a swoon. By and by he lifted his head:--
'I can deny you nothing,' he said sadly. 'But no matter, though it cost
me my life.... In the room next to your bedroom you will find four
chests: fill them with everything you would like to take with you. Be
sure to keep your word; for if you break it and come back to find your
poor _Beast_ dead, you will be sorry when it is too late. Come back
at the end of two months and you will find me alive; and to come back
you will not need chariot or horses. Only say good-bye, that night, to
your father, and brothers, and sisters; and, when you are in-bed, turn
this ring round on your finger and say firmly: "I wish to go back to my
palace and see my _Beast_ again." That is all. Good night, _Beauty!_
Sleep soundly, and in good time you shall see your father once more.'
As soon as he was gone _Beauty_ set to work to fill the four boxes with
all the riches and finery that heart could desire. She filled them to
the brim; and then, tired out, she went to bed. But for a long while
she could not close her eyes for excitement. It was not until close
upon sunrise that sleep visited her and, with it, another dream. In
this dream she saw her beloved Unknown stretched at full length on
a bank of turf. His face was hidden, and she could hear that he was
sobbing. But when, touched by the sight of his grief, she drew near to
console him, he lifted his face to her and said:--
'Cruel _Beauty_, how can you ask what ails me? when you are leaving me,
and your going is my death warrant!'
'But, dearest _Prince_,' said _Beauty_, 'I am only going to tell
my father and brothers and sisters that I am well and happy. In a
short while I shall be back, never to leave you again.... But, for
that matter,' she went on as a new thought struck her, 'why should
we be separated at all? I will put off my going for another day, and
to-morrow I will beg the _Beast_ to let you go with me. I am sure he
will not refuse.'
'I can only go with you, if you promise me never to come back,' replied
the _Prince_. 'And, after all, when you have once delivered me, why
should we ever come back? The _Beast_ will be hurt in his feelings and
very angry no doubt; but by that time we shall be beyond his power.'
'You forget,' _Beauty_ reminded him sharply, 'that I have promised him
to return, and that, moreover, he says he will die of grief if I break
my word.'
'And what if he does?' demanded her lover. 'Is not your happiness worth
more than the life of a monster? Of what use is he in the world except
to frighten folks out of their wits?'
'Ah, you do not understand!' cried _Beauty_. 'This monster--as you call
him--is only a monster in his face, and through no fault of his. He has
the kindest heart in the world, and how could I be so ungrateful after
all he has done for me!'
'I believe,' said her lover bitterly, 'that if you saw us fighting, of
the two you would rather let me perish than this _Beast_ of yours.'
_Beauty_ told him that he was cruel and unjust, and begged him to talk
of something else. She set the example, too. Seeing that he was piqued
and proud, she addressed a long speech to him, full of endearments, to
win him back to a good humour, and was growing astonished at her own
eloquence when, in the middle of it, she awoke.
Her last words seemed to mingle with the sound of familiar voices.
She sprang out of bed and drew her curtain.... It was very strange!
As the sunlight poured in she saw that she was in a room much more
poorly furnished than that in which she had fallen asleep. She dressed
in haste, and opening the door, found that the next room too was like
no apartment in the _Beast's_ palace. But at her feet stood the four
chests she had packed overnight; and, while she marvelled, again she
heard a voice talking, and ran towards it. For it was her father's.
She rushed out and fell into his arms. He, poor man, stared at her
as though she had sprung from another world, and the others were no
less astonished. Her brothers embraced her with transports of joy,
while her sisters--who, to tell the truth, had not overcome their
jealousy--pretended to be quite as glad. They plied her with a thousand
questions, which she answered very good-naturedly, putting aside her
own impatience; for she too had a number of questions to ask. To begin
with, this house of theirs was not the cottage in which she had left
them, but a fine new one her father had been able to buy with the
_Beast's_ presents. If not wealthy, he was in easy circumstances; with
the bettering of their fortunes his sisters had found other wooers and
were soon to be married; and altogether _Beauty_ had the satisfaction
of knowing that she had at least brought prosperity back to her family.
'As for you, my dearest child,' said the merchant, 'when your sisters
are married, you shall keep house for your brothers and me, and so my
old age will be happy.'
This was all very well, but _Beauty_ had to tell her father that she
must leave him again in two months' time; whereat he broke out into
lamentations. 'Dear father,' said the sensible girl, 'it is good of you
to weep; but it is useless, and I would rather have your advice, which
is sure to be useful.' Thereupon she told him all the story. Her father
considered for a while, and then said:--
'I can only give you the same counsel that, by your own admission, you
are always receiving from these phantoms of your dreams. "Do not trust
to appearance," they say, and "Be guided by your heart's gratitude";
and they tell you this over and over again. What can it mean, child,
but one thing? The _Beast_, you say, is frightful. His appearance is
certainly against him. Then judge him rather by the gratitude which you
certainly owe him. It is plain that he has a good heart--"handsome is
as handsome does"--it is clear to me that these phantoms would have you
say "Yes" to the _Beast_, and I too advise you to consent.'
_Beauty_ saw the wisdom of this and knew very well that her father
was counselling her for the best. Nevertheless it needed something
more than this to reconcile her with marrying a monster, and she
felt relieved at the thought that for two whole months she could put
off deciding. Strange to say, as the days went by and the time of
her departure drew nearer, she found herself looking forward to it
rather than repining. For one thing distressed her and spoilt all her
happiness--she never dreamed at all now.
The days went by, and as they drew to an end her brothers and even her
father (forgetting his former good counsel) employed all persuasions to
hinder her departure. But her mind was made up; and when the two months
were passed she was resolute on everything but the hour of her parting.
Every morning, when she got up, she meant to say good-bye, but somehow
another night came and the farewells were still unspoken.
She reproached herself (as well she might), and was still thus cruelly
torn between two minds, when one night a dream visited her--the first
for two months and more.
She dreamed that she was back at the _Beast's_ palace, and wandering
by a lonely path in the gardens which ended in a tangle of brushwood
overhanging a cave. As she drew nearer she heard a terrible groaning,
and running in haste she found the _Beast_ stretched there on the point
of death. Still in her dream she was bending over him when the stately
lady stepped forth from the bushes and addressed her in a tone of grave
reproach:--
'I doubt, _Beauty_, if even now you have come in time. Cruel, cruel of
you to delay! when your delay has brought him so near to death!'
Terrified by this dream _Beauty_ awoke in her bed with a start. 'I have
done wickedly!' she cried. 'Am I too late? Oh, indeed I hope not!' She
turned the ring upon her finger and said aloud in a firm voice: '_I
wish to go back to my palace and see my Beast again!_'
With that she at once fell asleep, and only woke up to hear the clock
chiming, '_Beauty, Beauty,_' twelve times on the musical note she so
well remembered. She was back, then, at the palace. Yes, and--oh,
joy!--her faithful apes and parrots were gathered around the bed,
wishing her good morning!
But none of them could tell her any news of the _Beast_. They were here
to serve her, and all their thoughts ended with their duty. Their good
master--the lord of this splendid palace--what was he to them? At any
rate nothing was to be learnt from them, and _Beauty_ was no sooner
dressed than she broke away impatiently, wandering through the house
and the gardens to fill up the time until evening should bring his
accustomed visit. But it was hard work filling up the time. She went
into the great hall and resolutely opened the windows one by one. The
shows were there as before; but opera and comedy, fête and pageant,
held no meaning for her: the players were listless, the music was null,
the processions passed before her eyes but had lost their power to
amuse.
Supper-time came at length; but when after supper the minutes passed
and passed and still no _Beast_ appeared, then indeed _Beauty_ was
frightened. For a long while she waited, listened, told herself this
and that, and finally in a terror rushed down into the gardens to
seek for him. The alleys were dark; the bushes daunted her with their
black shadows; but still up and down ran poor _Beauty_, calling to the
_Beast_, and calling in vain.
She was drenched with the dew, utterly lost and weary, when, after
three hours, pausing for a moment's rest, she saw before her the same
solitary path she had seen in her dream: and there in the moonlight she
almost stumbled over the _Beast_.
He lay there, stretched at full length and asleep--or so she thought.
So glad was she to have found him that she knelt and stroked his head,
calling him by name over and over. But his flesh was cold beneath her
hand, nor did he move or open his eyes.
'Ah, he is dead!' she cried, aghast.
But she put a hand over his heart, and to her inexpressible joy she
felt that it was still beating. Hastily she ran to a fountain near by,
and dipping water into her palms from its basin she ran and sprinkled
it on his face, coaxing him with tender words as his eyes opened, and
slowly--very slowly--he came to himself.
'Ah! what a fright you have given me!' she murmured. 'Dear _Beast_,
I never knew how I loved you until I feared that you were dead--yes,
dead, and through my fault! But I believe, if you had died, I should
have died too.'
'_Beauty_,' said the _Beast_ faintly, 'you are very good if indeed
you can love such an ugly brute as I am. It is true that I was dying
for you, and should have died if you had not come. I thought you had
forsaken me. But are you sure?'
'Sure of what?' asked _Beauty_.
'That you love me?'
'Let us go back to supper,' said _Beauty_, raising his head.