4

The merchant had no mind to sacrifice his daughters to the ugly monster, but he thought in obtaining this respite he should have the satisfaction of seeing them once more, so he promised upon oath, he would return, and the Beast told him he might set out when he pleased. “But,” added he, “you shall not depart emptyhanded; go back to the room where you lay, and you will see a great empty chest; fill it with whatever you like best, and I will send it to your home,” and at the same time Beast withdrew.

“Well,” said the good man to himself, “if I must die, I shall have the comfort, at least, of leaving something to my poor children.” He returned to the bedchamber, and finding a great quantity of gold, he filled the great chest the Beast had mentioned, locked it, and afterwards took his horse out of the stable, leaving the palace with as much grief as he had entered it with joy. The horse took one of the roads of the forest, and in a few hours the good man was at home.

His children came round him but didn’t receive their embraces with pleasure. Instead, he looked at them and, holding up the branch he had in his hands, burst into tears. “Here, Beauty,” said he, “take these roses, but little do you think how dear they are like to cost your unhappy father,” and then told them about his unhappy adventure. Immediately, the two eldest daughters started to cry and said all manner of ill-natured things to Beauty, who did not cry at all.

“Do but see the pride of that little wretch,” said they, “she would not ask for fine clothes as we did, but she wanted to distinguish herself, so now she will be the death of our poor father, and yet she does not so much as shed a tear.”

“Why should I?” answered Beauty, “It would be very needless, for my father shall not suffer upon my account, since the monster will accept one of his daughters, and I am very happy in thinking that my death will save my father’s life and be a proof of my tender love for him.”

“No, sister,” said her three brothers, “that shall not be; we will go and find the monster and either kill him or perish in the attempt.”

“Do not imagine any such thing, my sons,” said the merchant, “The Beast’s power is so great that I have no hopes of your overcoming him. I am charmed with Beauty’s kind and generous offer, but I cannot yield to it. I am old and have not long to live.”

“Indeed, father,” said Beauty, “you shall not go to the palace without me; you cannot hinder me from following you.” It was to no purpose all they could say. Beauty still insisted on setting out for the fine palace, and her sisters were delighted at it, for her virtue and amiable qualities made them envious and jealous.

The merchant was so afflicted at the thoughts of losing his daughter that he had quite forgot the chest full of gold, but at night when he retired to rest, no sooner had he shut his chamber door, then, to his great astonishment, he found it by his bedside; he was determined, however, not to tell his children that he was grown rich because they would have wanted to return to town, and he was resolved not to leave the country; but the Beauty informed him that two gentlemen came in his absence and courted her sisters. She begged her father to consent to their marriage and give them fortunes, for she was so good that she loved them and forgave heartily their behaviour. These wicked creatures rubbed their eyes with an onion to force some tears when they parted with their sister, but her brothers were really concerned.

5

The horse took the direct road to the palace, and they reached the castle towards evening. The horse went into the stable, and the good man and his daughter came into the great hall, where they found a table splendidly served up and two covers. The merchant didn’t want to eat, but Beauty, endeavoring to appear cheerful, sat down to table and helped him. “Afterwards,” thought she to herself, “the Beast surely has a mind to fatten me before he eats me, since he provides such plentiful entertainment.” When they had supped, they heard a great noise, and the merchant, all in tears, bid his poor child, farewell, for he thought the Beast was coming. Beauty was sadly terrified of his horrid form, but she took courage as well as she could and said to the monster that she came willingly.

The Beast responded, “You are very good, and I am greatly obliged to you; honest man, go your ways tomorrow morning but never think of coming here again.”

“Farewell, Beauty. Farewell, Beast,” answered he, and the monster withdrew immediately. “Oh, daughter,” said the merchant, embracing Beauty, “I am almost frightened to death, believe me, you had better go back and let me stay here.”

“No, father,” said Beauty in a resolute tone, “you shall set out tomorrow morning and leave me to the care and protection of providence.” They went to bed and thought they should not close their eyes all night; but they fell fast asleep quickly, and Beauty dreamed a fine lady came and said to her, “I am content, Beauty, with your good will; this good action of yours in giving up your own life to save your father’s shall not go unrewarded.” Beauty woke and told her father her dream and though it helped to comfort him a little, yet he could not help crying bitterly when he took leave of his dear child.

As soon as he was gone, Beauty sat down in the great hall and started crying, for she firmly believed the Beast would eat her up that night.

However, she thought she might as well walk about until then and view this fine castle, which she could not help admiring; it was a delightful pleasant place, and she was extremely surprised at seeing a door over which was written “Beauty’s Apartment.” She opened it hastily and was quite dazzled with the magnificence that reigned throughout; but what chiefly took up her attention was a large library, a harpsichord, and several music books. Then she reflected, “Were I but to stay here a day, there would not have been all these preparations.” This consideration inspired her with fresh courage; and opening the library, she took a book and read these words in letters of gold:

 

Welcome Beauty,

       banish fear,

You are queen

       and mistress here.

Speak your wishes,

       speak your will,

Swift obedience

       meets them still.

 

6

“Alas,” said she with a sigh, “there is nothing I desire so much as to see my poor father and know what he is doing.” As soon as she said this, to her great amazement, she saw her own home in a great looking glass, where her father arrived with a very dejected countenance. Her sisters went to meet him, and notwithstanding their endeavors to appear sorrowful, their joy, felt for having got rid of their sister, was visible in every feature. A moment after, everything disappeared.

At noon she found dinner ready and, while at table, was entertained with an excellent concert of music, though without seeing anybody. But at night, as she was going to sit down to supper, she heard the noise the Beast made and could not help being sadly terrified. “Beauty,” said the monster, “will you give me leave to see you sup?”

“That is as you please,” answered Beauty trembling.

“No,” replied the Beast, “you alone are mistress here; if my presence is troublesome, I will immediately withdraw. But tell me, do not you think me very ugly?”

“That is true,” said Beauty, “for I cannot tell a lie, but I believe you are very good-natured.”

“So I am,” said the monster, “and I know very well that I am a poor, silly, stupid creature.”

“I don’t think you are a silly and stupid creature,” replied Beauty.

“Eat then, Beauty,” said the monster, “and endeavor to amuse yourself in your palace, for everything here is yours, and I should be very uneasy if you were not happy.”

“You are very obliging,” answered Beauty, “I am pleased with your kindness.”

“Yes, yes,” said the Beast, “my heart is good, but still I am a monster.”

“Among mankind,” said Beauty, “there are many that deserve that name more than you, and I prefer you, just as you are, to those who, under a human form, hide a treacherous, corrupt, and ungrateful heart.”

“If I had sense enough,” replied the Beast, “I would make a fine compliment to thank you, but I am so dull that I can only say I am greatly obliged to you.”

Beauty ate her supper and had almost conquered her dread of the monster, but she had like to have fainted away when he said to her, “Beauty, will you be my wife?”

She didn’t answer at once, for she was afraid of making him angry if she refused. At last, however trembling, she said, “No, the Beast.” Immediately, the poor monster went to sigh and hissed so frightfully that the whole palace echoed. But Beauty soon recovered her fright, for the Beast having said in a mournful voice, “Then farewell, Beauty,” left the room.

When Beauty was alone, she felt a great deal of compassion for the poor Beast.

Beauty spent three months very contentedly in the palace. Every evening the Beast paid her a visit and talked to her during supper, very rationally, with good common sense, but never with what the world calls wit; and Beauty daily discovered some valuable qualifications in the monster, and seeing him often had so accustomed her to his deformity that she would often look at her watch to see when it would be nine, for the Beast never missed coming at that hour. There was but one thing that gave Beauty any concern, which was that every night before she went to bed, the monster always asked her if she would be his wife.

One day she said to him, “Beast, you make me very uneasy. I wish I could consent to marry you, but I am too sincere to make you believe that will ever happen; I shall always esteem you as a friend. Endeavor to be satisfied with this.”

“I must,” said the Beast. “I know too well my own misfortune, but I love you. However, I ought to think myself happy that you will stay here; promise me never to leave me.”

Beauty blushed at these words; she had seen in her glass that her father had pined himself sick for the loss of her, and she longed to see him again. “I could,” answered she, “indeed, promise never to leave you entirely, but I have so great a desire to see my father that I shall fret to death if you refuse me that satisfaction.”

“I had rather die myself,” said the monster, “than give you the least uneasiness. I will send you to your father; you shall remain with him, and the poor Beast will die with grief.”

“No,” said Beauty weeping, “I love you too well to be the cause of your death. I give you my promise to return in a week. You have shown me that my sisters are married and my brothers went to the army; only let me stay a week with my father.”