Once upon a time there was a rich merchant, who had three daughters.
They lived in a very fine house in a beautiful city, and had many
servants in grand liveries to wait upon them. All their food was
served on gold and silver dishes, and their gowns were made of the
richest stuff sewn with jewels.
The two eldest were called Marigold and Dressalinda. Never a day
passed but these two went out to some feast or junketing; but Beauty,
the youngest, loved to stay at home and keep her old father company.
Now, it happened that misfortune came upon the merchant. Ships of
his which were sailing the high seas laden with merchandise of great
price, were wrecked, and in one day he found that he was no longer the
richest merchant in the city, but a very poor man.
There was still left to him a little house in the country, and to
this, when everything else had been sold, he retired. His three
daughters, of course, went with him.
Marigold and Dressalinda were very cross to think that they had lost
all their money, and after being so rich and sought after, they must
now live in a miserable cottage.
But Beauty's only thought was to cheer her old father, and while her
two sisters sat on wooden chairs and cried and bewailed themselves,
Beauty lighted the fire and got the supper ready, for the merchant was
now so poor that he could not even keep a servant.
And so it went on. The two eldest sisters would do nothing but sulk in
corners, while Beauty swept the floors and washed the dishes, and did
her best to make the poor cottage pleasant. They led their sister a
dreadful life too, with their complaints, for not only did they refuse
to do anything themselves, but they said that everything she did was
done wrong. But Beauty bore all their unkindness patiently, for her
father's sake.
In this way a whole year went by, and then one day a letter came for
the merchant.
He hastened to find his daughters, for he was anxious to tell them the
good news contained in the letter.
"My dear children," he said, "at last our luck has turned. This letter
says that one of the ships supposed to have been lost has come safely
home to port, and if that be so, we need no longer live in poverty. We
shall not be so rich as before, but we shall have enough to keep us in
comfort. Get me my traveling-cloak, Beauty. I will set out at once to
claim my ship. And now tell me, girls, what shall I bring you when I
come back?"
"A hundred pounds," said Marigold, without hesitating an instant.
"I want a new silk dress," said Dressalinda, "an apple-green one, sewn
with seed-pearls, and green shoes with red heels, and a necklace of
emeralds, and a box of gloves."
"And what shall I bring for you, my Beauty?" asked the father, as his
little daughter helped him to put on his traveling-cloak.
"Oh, bring me a rose," said Beauty hastily.
Her father kissed her fondly, and set out.
"You silly girl," said Marigold, "you just want our father to think
you are more unselfish than we are--that's what you want! A rose,
indeed!"
"Indeed, sister," said Beauty, "that was not the reason. I thought our
father would have enough to do in seeing to the safety of his ship,
without being troubled to do shopping for me."
But the sisters were very much offended, and went off to sit in their
own room to talk of the fine things they would have when their father
came back.
In the meantime the merchant went his way to the city, full of hope
and great plans as to what he would do with his money.
But when he got there, he found that some one had played a trick on
him, and no ship of his had come into harbor, so he was just as badly
off as before.
He spent the whole day looking about to make sure there was no truth
in the letter he had received, and it was beginning to get dusk when
he started out, with a sad heart, to make the journey home again. He
was tired and miserable, and he had tasted no food since he left home
in the morning.
It was quite dark by the time he came to the great wood through which
he had to pass to get to his cottage, and when he saw a light shining
through the trees, he decided not to go to his home that night, but
to make his way towards the light in the wood and ask for food and
shelter.
He expected to find a woodcutter's cottage, but what was his surprise,
as he drew near to the light, to find that it came from the windows of
a large and beautiful palace!
He knocked at the gates, but no one answered, and presently, driven by
hunger and cold, he made bold to enter, and mounted the marble steps
into the great hall.
All the way he never saw a soul. There was a big fire in the hall, and
when he had warmed himself, he set out to look for the master of the
house. But he did not look far, for behind the first door he opened
was a cosy little room with supper set for one, a supper the mere look
of which made you hungry.
So the merchant sat down as bold as you please, and made a very hearty
supper, after which he again thought he would look for the master of
the house.
He started off and opened another door, but there he saw a bed, merely
to look at which made you sleepy, so he said to himself:
"This is some fairies' work. I had better not look any farther for the
master of the house."
And with that he tumbled into bed, and, being very tired, he went to
sleep at once, and slept like a top till it was time to get up in the
morning.
When he awoke he was quite surprised to find himself in such a soft
and comfortable bed, but presently he remembered all that had happened
to him.
"I must be going," he said to himself, "but I wish I could thank my
host for my good rest and my good supper."
When he got out of bed he found he had something else to be grateful
for, for on the chair by the bedside lay a fine suit of new clothes,
marked with his name, and with ten gold pieces in every pocket. He
felt quite a different man when he had put on the suit of blue and
silver, and jingled the gold pieces of money in his pockets.
When he went downstairs, he found a good breakfast waiting for him in
the little room where he had supped the night before, and when he had
made a good meal, he thought he would go for a stroll in the garden.
Down the marble steps he went, and when he came to the garden, he saw
that it was full of roses, red and white and pink and yellow, and the
merchant looked at them, and remembered Beauty's wish.
"Oh, my poor daughters," he said, "what a disappointment it will be to
them to know that my ship has not come home after all, but Beauty at
any rate can have what she wanted."
So he stretched out his hand and plucked the biggest red rose within
his reach.
As the stalk snapped in his fingers, he started back in terror, for he
heard an angry roar, and the next minute a dreadful Beast sprang upon
him. It was taller than any man, and uglier than any animal, but, what
seemed most dreadful of all to the merchant, it spoke to him with a
man's voice, after it had roared at him with the Beast's.
"Ungrateful wretch!" said the Beast. "Have I not fed you, lodged you,
and clothed you, and now you must repay my hospitality by stealing the
only thing I care for, my roses?"
"Mercy! mercy!" cried the merchant.
"No," said the Beast, "you must die!" The poor merchant fell upon his
knees and tried to think of something to say to soften the heart of
the cruel Beast; and at last he said, "Sir, I only stole this rose
because my youngest daughter asked me to bring her one. I did not
think, after all you have given me, that you would grudge me a
flower."
"Tell me about this daughter of yours," said the Beast suddenly. "Is
she a good girl?"
"The best and dearest in the world," said the old merchant. And then
he began to weep, to think that he must die and leave his Beauty alone
in the world, with no one to be kind to her.
"Oh!" he cried, "what will my poor children do without me?"
"You should have thought of that before you stole the rose," said the
Beast. "However, if one of your daughters loves you well enough
to suffer instead of you, she may. Go back and tell them what has
happened to you, but you must give me your promise that either you,
or one of your daughters, shall be at my palace door in three months'
time from to-day."
The wretched man promised.
"At any rate," he thought, "I shall have three months more of life."