Whereupon she instantly desired her partner to lead her to the KING and QUEEN.
'Well, child? And how have you fared?'
'Godmama, I have never been so happy in all my life! And it is all thanks to you!' But after thanking her,Cinderellacould not help confessing how she longed to go to the ball next evening. The King's son had begged her to come again, and oh! if she had been able to promise!
'As to that, child,' said her godmother, 'we will see about it when the time comes. But it has been lonely, keeping watch and sitting up for you. Will you not reward me by telling all about it?'
Cinderellaneeded no such invitation; she was dying to relate her adventures. She talked and talked, her godmother still smiling and questioning. For two hours, may be, she talked and was still recollecting a score of things to tell when her sisters' coach rumbled up to the gate, and almost at once there came a loud ring at the bell. She stared and rubbed her eyes, for at the first sound of it her godmother had vanished!
Cinderellaran and opened the door to her sisters. 'What a long time you have stayed,' said she, yawning, rubbing her eyes, and stretching herself as though she had just waked out of sleep.(She had felt, however, no inclination at all to sleep since their departure!)
'If you had been at the ball,' said the elder sister, 'you would not have felt tired. One of the guests was the loveliest Princess—oh, the loveliest you ever could see! She showed us a thousand civilities. She gave us nectarines and citrons.'
Cinderellacontained her joy. Upstairs, while she unplaited her sisters' hair and unlaced their bodices, she asked the name of the Princess. But they answered that no one knew her; that the King's son was wild about her, and would give everything in the world to discover who she was.Cinderellasmiled. She no longer felt any temptation at all to be clumsy with the hairpins.
'Why then,' she said, 'she must be beautiful indeed. And she went away, you say, without telling her name? Is no one going to see her again?'
'As for that, she may come again to the ball to-morrow. I am told that thePrincebegged it, almost with tears in his eyes.... For there is to be another ball to-morrow, and we are going!'
'Ah, heavens!' sighedCinderella, how luckyyou are! Might I not just see her? Please, please, Sister Caroline, take me to-morrow—I could manage quite well if only you lent me your yellow gown which you wear every evening!'
'Hoity-toity! 'snappedMiss Caroline. 'You cannot be awake. You must have been dreaming to some purpose if you see me lending my clothes to a nasty little Cinder-slut!'
Cinderellahad quite well expected some such rebuff, and was glad enough to get it, for it would have been very awkward if her sister had been willing to lend the gown.
The next evening the two sisters were at the ball; and so wasCinderella, but in even finer attire than before. Her godmother had spared no pains, and as for the expense, that hardly needs to be considered when you can turn pumpkins into gilt coaches, cobwebs into Valenciennes lace, and beetles' wings into rubies, with the tap of a wand.
The King's son in his impatience flew to her coach door as soon as she arrived. Throughout the evening he never left her side, nor ceased to make pretty speeches; and she, pretty maid, wasfar from finding his behaviour tiresome—so far, indeed, that she forgot her godmother's warning. The end was, that in the midst of a dance she heard the stroke of a clock, looked up, was dismayed to find it the first stroke of twelve when she believed it yet an hour short of midnight, and made her escape as lightly as a deer. ThePrincefollowed, but could not catch her. Only she dropped one of her glass slippers, which he picked up and treasured.
With the last stroke of twelve, coach and footmen had whisked away, and poorCinderella, barefoot now as well as in rags, panted homeward over roads where the flints cut her until she bled, and the owls and great moths blundered out of the bushes against her face. To make matters worse, a thunderstorm broke before she had ran half the distance, and she arrived home in a terrible plight, muddy, drenched to the skin, and almost more dead than alive. In one thing only she was fortunate: she had outstripped her sisters, whose coach on the way home lost a wheel—and I have a suspicion thatCinderella'sgodmother had something to do with this misadventure too.
At all events whenCinderellaopened the kitchen door the little lady stood as she had stood the night before, in the glow of the hearth, awaiting her.
'Well, child,' she said, frowning, yet the frown was not altogether unkindly, 'it is easily seen that you have forgotten my warning and have suffered for it. But what isthatyou are clutching?'
PoorCinderelladrew from under her bedraggled bodice a crystal slipper, fellow to the missing one. It was the one remnant of all her finery, and somehow, scarcely knowing why, she had hugged it to her while she ran and never let it slip in all her stumblings.
Her godmother gazed at her with a queer expression, that began by being a frown, yet in the end had certainly changed into a shrewd smile.
'You have been careless,' she said. 'Yet I am pleased to see that you have managed to keep, at any rate, one-half of your godmother's gift. 'I think she meant by this that whereas all the rest ofCinderella'sadornment had been contrived out of something other than it was, the two glass slippers had been really produced out of the Fairy's pocket.They alone had not vanished at the stroke of midnight. 'But what has become of the other one?' her godmother asked.
Cinderelladid not know for certain, but fancied that she must have dropped it in her hurry to escape from the palace.
'Yes, you are careless,' repeated the Fairy; 'but decidedly you are not unlucky.'
And with that she vanished, as the bell sounded announcing the sisters'return.
They were not in the best of humours, to begin with.Cinderellaasked them if they had again found the ball enjoyable, and if the beautiful lady had been there. They told her yes; but that on the stroke of twelve she had taken flight, and so hurriedly that she had let fall one of her small glass slippers, the prettiest in the world, which the King's son had picked up. They added, that this indeed was the first cause of their delay; for, seeking their carriage, they had found the entry blocked, and thePrincein the wildest state of mind, demanding of the guards if they had not seen a Princess pass out. The guards answered that they had seen no one pass out but a ragged girl, who looked more like acountry wench than a Princess. Amid this to-do, the sisters had with difficulty found their coach; and then, within two miles of home, a wheel had come off and the coach had lurched over, in a thunderstorm, too; and they had been forced to walk the rest of the way, the one with a bruised shoulder, and the other (which was worse) with a twisted ankle. But, after all, the dance had been worth these mischances and sufferings; and, said they, harking back, thePrincewas undoubtedly deep in love, for they had left him gazing fondly at the slipper, and little doubt—mysteriously as she chose to behave—he would make every effort to find the beautiful creature to whom it belonged.
They told the truth, too. For a few days after, the King's son had it proclaimed by sound of trumpet that he would marry her whose foot the slipper exactly fitted.
At first they tried it on the Princesses of the Court:
Then on the Duchesses:
Then on the Marchionesses:
Then on the Countesses and Viscountesses:
Then on the Baronesses:
And so on, through all the ladies of the Court, and a number of competitors, who, though they did not belong to it, yet supposed that the smallness of their feet was an argument that their parents had very unjustly come down in the world. The Prime Minister, who carried the glass slipper on a velvet cushion, was kept very busy during the next few weeks.
At length he called onCinderella'stwo sisters, who did all they could to squeeze a foot into the slipper, but by no means could they succeed.
Cinderella, who was looking on and admiring their efforts, said laughingly:—
'Let me see if it will fit me.'
Her sisters began to laugh and mock at her, but the Prime Minister, who had come to make trial of the slipper, looked atCinderellaattentively, and seeing how good-looking she was, said that it was but just—he had orders to try it upon every one.
The Prime Minister was kept very busy during the next few weeks.
He askedCinderellato sit down, and drawing the slipper upon her little foot, he saw that it wenton easily, and fitted the foot like wax. Great was the astonishment of the two sisters; but it was greater whenCinderellapulled from her pocket the other little slipper and put it upon the other foot. On top of this came a rap at the door, and in walked the Fairy Godmother, who, by a touch of her wand uponCinderella'sclothes, made them still more magnificent than they had been before.
And now her two sisters knewCinderellato be the same beautiful creature they had seen at the ball. They threw themselves at her feet, begging her pardon for all the ill-usage they had made her suffer.Cinderellaraised and kissed them, saying that she forgave them with all her heart, and entreated them to be loving to her always.
They led her to the youngPrince, arrayed as she was. He thought her lovelier than ever, and, a few days after, they were married.Cinderella, who was as good as she was beautiful, lodged her two sisters in the palace, and married them that same day to two great Lords of the Court.
MORALBetter than wealth or art,Jewels or a painted face,It is when a natural heartInhabits its natural placeAnd beats at a natural pace.ANOTHERYet youth that is poor of purse,No matter how witty or handsome,Will find its talents no worseFor a godmamma to advance 'em.
MORAL
Better than wealth or art,Jewels or a painted face,It is when a natural heartInhabits its natural placeAnd beats at a natural pace.
ANOTHER
Yet youth that is poor of purse,No matter how witty or handsome,Will find its talents no worseFor a godmamma to advance 'em.
Once upon a time, in a country a long way from here, there stood a flourishing city, full of commerce; and in that city lived a merchant so lucky in all his ventures that it seemed as if fortune waited on his wishes. But while enormously rich, he had a very long family of six sons and six daughters; and as yet not one of them was settled in life. The boys were too young to go out in the world; and the girls, who had everything at home the heart could desire, were in no hurry to risk a change by choosing a husband, although many rich and noble suitors paid court to them.
But one day an unexpected disaster brought this pleasant state of things to an end. Their house caught fire and was burnt to the ground; and with it perished not only the magnificent furniture, but the merchant's account books, bank notes, gold and silver, and the precious wares on which his wealth depended. Scarcely anything was saved.
This was but the beginning of their misfortunes. Their father, who up to now had prospered in everything he touched, lost in a very short while every ship he had upon the sea. Some were wrecked, others captured by pirates. His agents failed; his clerks in foreign countries proved unfaithful; and, in short, from the height of riches he suddenly fell into the direst poverty.
Nothing was left to him but one poor little country cottage, at least a hundred leagues from the city in which he had lived. In this he was driven to find refuge, and to this he carried off his family, who were in despair since the overthrow. The daughters especially could not endure the thought of dwelling in such a den (as they called it). At first they had felt sure that on hearingthe news their suitors would be tripping one another up in haste to renew their offers of marriage. But in this they were soon undeceived. Their downfall was no sooner known than all these flattering wooers took to their heels in a troop. They fared no better with their intimate friends, who at once dropped their acquaintance. Nay, those to whom our merchant had formerly shown the greatest kindness were now the most eager to speak ill of him.
So nothing was left for this hapless family but to take their departure from the city and shut themselves up in the cottage, which stood in the depth of a dismal and almost trackless forest. No servants now to wait on them! The sons tilled the ground and swept out the farm sheds; and the daughters, dressed like country girls in coarse linen frocks, were forced to turn their delicate hands to the roughest employment and live on hard fare of which there was little enough.
Only the youngest daughter showed a brave heart. She had been despondent as any of them to begin with; but after weeping—as well she might—for her father's misfortunes, she recoveredher natural gaiety, made the best of things, tried to forget how ungrateful the world had been, kept her father and her brothers amused with her cheerful wit, and after she had done her work, would sing and play. But her sisters would not join with her in making the best of things. 'It is very easy for you to be happy,' the eldest grumbled. 'You have low tastes and were born for this kind of life.' The fact is, they were all jealous of her because of her sweet temper and good looks. So beautiful, indeed, was this youngest sister that in the old days every one had agreed to call herBeauty—by that and by no other name she was known. Alone of them she might easily, in the first days of their ruin, have found a husband; but she could not think of this while she could be of use to help and console her family.
Two years passed, and there came news which seemed to offer a hope to escape. One of their father's ships, long supposed to be lost, had arrived in port with a rich cargo. The message further advised his return to the city with speed, or his, agents might sell the goods too cheaply and hewould lose his gains. So, whilst his children danced with joy at the news, the merchant set about preparing for his long journey.
In their transport his daughters loaded him with commissions for gowns and jewels it would have taken a fortune to buy. OnlyBeautywould not ask for anything. Her father, noting her silence, interrupted the others who still kept adding to their list of requirements.
'Well,Beauty,' he said, 'and what shall I bring home for you? Surely you, too, wish for something?'
'Dear father,' she answered, 'I wish for the most precious thing in the world; and that is to see you home again safe and sound.'
This answer covered the sisters with confusion, and vexed them so that one of them, speaking up for the others, said tartly: 'This small miss is putting on airs. She thinks, no doubt, she cuts a figure with her affected fine sentiments!'
Her father, however, was touched by her good feeling. Nevertheless he told her to choose something—'For,' said he, 'at your age it is only natural to like dresses and pretty presents.'
'Well, dear father,' said she, 'since you insist, I will beg you to bring me home a rose. I have not seen one since we came to live here, and I love roses.' In this wayBeautycontrived to obey her father and yet to put him to no expense.
The day came for the merchant to embrace them all and bid them farewell. He made the best of his way to the great city; and arrived there to be met with a great disappointment. To be sure his vessel had come safely to port; but his partners, believing him dead, had taken possession of it and divided the cargo between them. To make good his claim he was forced to bring a number of tedious law-suits. He won them in the end; but only to find, after six months of trouble and expense, that he was almost as poor as when he started.
To make his misery complete he was forced to travel back in the winter, in the most inclement weather; so that by the time he reached the skirts of the forest he was ready to drop with fatigue. But reminding himself that his home was now not many leagues away, he called up what strength, remained to him.
As he pushed on through the forest, night overtook him; and in the piercing cold, half buried—his horse and he—in the deep snow that hid every pathway, the poor merchant feared that his last hour had come. Not so much as a hut did he pass. The only shelter to be found was the trunk of a hollow tree; and there he cowered through the long night, kept awake by his hunger and the howling of the wolves. Nor did the day bring him much comfort: for thick snow lay everywhere, and not a path was to be seen. It was only after a weary search that he managed to recover his horse, which had wandered away and partly sheltered itself in another hollow tree. He mounted, and now in a little while discovered a sort of track which presently grew easier.
Following this, he found himself in an avenue of trees, at the entrance of which he halted and rubbed his eyes. For no snow had fallen in this avenue, and the trees were tall orange-trees, planted in four rows and covered with flowers and fruit; and here and there among the trees were statues, some of single figures, others of groups representing scenes of war, but all coloured like real life.At the end of the avenue, straight in front of him, rose a magnificent castle in many terraces. The merchant rode around to the stable courtyard, which he found empty; and there, with half-frozen hands, he unbridled and stabled his horse. Within the doorway he found a staircase of agate with balusters of carved gold. He mounted it and passed through room after room, each more splendidly furnished than the last. They were deliciously warm, too, and he began to feel his limbs again. But he was hungry; where could he find some one to give him food? Everywhere was silence; and yet the place had no look of being abandoned. Drawingrooms, bedchambers, galleries—all stood unlocked.... At last, tired of roaming, he came to a halt in an apartment where some one had lit a bright fire. A sofa drawn up cosily beside it, invited him to sit and warm his limbs; and resting there, he closed his eyes and fell into deep and grateful slumber.
As weariness had sent him to sleep, so hunger awoke him. He opened his eyes and saw at his elbow a table with meats and wine upon it. He had been fasting for more than twenty-four hours,and lost no time in falling-to. He hoped that he might soon have sight of this most hospitable entertainer, whoever he might be, and an opportunity of thanking him. Still no one appeared; and now this good food did for him what fatigue had done before. He dropped off again into an easy slumber which lasted for four hours almost. Again awaking, he saw at his elbow another small table—of porphyry this time—upon which the unknown hands had set out a dainty meal of cakes, crystallised fruits and liqueurs. To this, too, he did justice. But, as the time still passed and no one appeared, he began to feel terrified, and resolved to search once more through all the rooms.... But still he found no one.
He had been fasting, for more than twenty-four hours, and lost no time in falling to.
He was standing lost in thought, when of a sudden it came into his mind that some kindly power had perhaps prepared this palace of wonder for him, that it with all its riches might indeed be his. Possessed by this notion he once again made a tour of the rooms and took stock of their treasures, planning in his mind how he would divide them amongst his children, assigning this apartment to one and that to another, and whispering to himselfwhat joy he would carry home after all from his journey. Then he went down into the garden, where—though it was the depth of winter—the birds were singing and the air breathed the scent of a thousand flowers.
'Surely,' he told himself, 'my daughters will be happy here and never desire any more to go back to the city. Quick! Let me saddle my horse at once and ride home with the news!'
The way to the stable was an alley fenced on either hand with palings, and over the palings hung great clusters of roses in bloom. They reminded him of his promise toBeauty. He plucked one, and was about to pluck a whole nosegay, when he was startled by a horrible noise behind him, and attempted to turn. But behind him stood a hideousBeastwho was overtaking him and reaching out towards him.
'Who gave you leave to pluck my roses?' roared this monster. 'Was it not enough that I made you welcome in my palace and treated you kindly? And you show your gratitude by stealing my flowers! But your insolence shall not go unpunished!'
The good merchant, terrified no less by the sight of thisBeastthan by his threats, let drop the rose and flung himself on his knees.
'My Lord,' he cried, 'have pity on me! I am not ungrateful; but after all your kindness I could not guess that so small a thing would offend you.'
This speech did not at all abate theBeast'swrath. 'Hold your tongue, sir,' he commanded, 'if you can offer me nothing but flatteries and false titles. I am not "my lord." I am theBeast; and your words will not save you from the death you deserve.'
The merchant, although in fear of his life, plucked up courage to tell the monster that the rose which he had been bold to pluck was for one of his daughters, by nameBeauty. Then, in hope either to delay theBeast'svengeance or to touch his compassion, he launched into the tale of all his misfortunes, and of his reasons for the journey, not forgetting to mentionBeautyagain and her request.
TheBeastconsidered for a moment before answering him in a somewhat milder tone: 'I will forgive you; but only on condition that you giveme one of your daughters.Some onemust make amends for this trespass.'
'Heaven forgive me,' the merchant entreated, 'but how can I promise such a thing! Even were I cruel enough to purchase my life at the cost of a child, on what excuse could I bring her?'
'No excuse is necessary,' replied theBeastshortly. 'Whichever you bring must come here of her own free will, or not at all. Go home and try if there be one brave and loving enough to sacrifice herself to save your life. You seem to be an honest man. Give me your word to return here at the end of a month and bring whichever of your daughters you can persuade to come with you. If you can persuade none of them, you must come alone; and I warn you that, if you fail of it, I shall come and fetch you.'
What was the poor man to do? He promised, for he saw death staring him in the face; and having given his promise he hoped to be allowed to depart. But theBeastinformed him that he could not go until next day.
'Then,' said he, 'at daybreak you will find a horse ready for you who will carry you home in lessthan no time. Now go and eat your supper, and await my commands.'
The merchant, more dead than alive, crept back to his rooms. There, before a blazing fire, he found a delicious supper spread, inviting him to eat. But so distraught was he, that no food, however delicious, could have tempted him had he not been afraid that theBeastmight be hiding somewhere to watch him. In fear of this he forced himself to sit and taste of the dishes.
A loud noise in the next room warned him that theBeastwas coming. Since he could not escape, he mustered what courage he could to conceal his terror, and faced about to the doorway.
'Have you made a good supper?' was theBeast'sfirst question.
The merchant in humblest voice answered that, thanks to his host's kind attention, he had fared excellently well.
'I am paying you a visit,' said theBeast, 'to warn you again to be honest with your daughter. Describe me to her just as I am. Let her be free to choose whether she will come or no; but tell her that, her course once chosen, there can be noretreat, nor even reflection after you have brought her to me. To break faith then will avail nothing: she will but destroy you without winning her own release.'
Again the spirit-broken merchant repeated his promise.
TheBeastappeared to be content at length. 'Retire to bed now,' he commanded, 'and do not get up to-morrow until you see the sun and hear a golden bell rung. Then, before starting, you will find breakfast laid for you here; your horse will be standing ready saddled in the courtyard; and you may carry back the rose to your daughterBeauty—as you call her. For the rest, I count on seeing you back in a month's time. So, farewell.'
The merchant, who dared not disobey a single one of these orders, retired to bed at once, though without any temptation to sleep; and again, though he passed a wretched night, he was punctual to rise with the sun. A golden bell rang; and prompt on the sound he found breakfast laid, still by unseen hands. After breakfast he went down to the stables, and on his way paused to pick up the rose, which lay in the alley where it had dropped from his hand.It was fresh as ever, and smelt as sweetly as though it yet grew on the tree.
A few paces further on he found his horse standing ready saddled, with a handsome cloak of furs, far warmer than his own, lying across the saddle. He put it on and mounted, and now he had to wonder at yet another miracle. His horse set off at an incredible speed, so that before he could even turn in the saddle the palace had sunk out of sight.
Could the horse have felt the weight on the good man's mind, it had never made such a pace. But it took its own way, insensible to rein or bridle; nor halted until it reached the door of the cottage.
The merchant's sons and daughters had rushed out at his approach; though it was not until he drew quite close that they recognised their father in this horseman superbly cloaked, with a rose at his holster, and mounted on a horse that travelled at such a speed. When they recognised him, they made sure that he brought the best of news. But the tears that trickled down his cheeks as he dismounted told them another story.
His first motion then was to pluck the fatal rosefrom the pommel and hand it toBeauty, saying: 'Here is what you asked me to bring. You little know what it will cost you all.'
This, and his sorrowful look, gave the eldest daughter her cue. 'I was certain of it!' she said. 'Did I not say, all along, that to force a rose at this time of the year would cost you more than would have bought presents for all the rest of us? A rose, in mid-winter! and such a rose! There—one has only to look at it to see that you took good careBeautyshould have her present, no matter at what cost to us!'
'It is all too true,' answered their father sorrowfully, 'that this rose has cost me dear—far dearer than all the presents you others begged of me. But the cost is not in money; for would to God I could have bought it with the last penny in my purse!'
His speech, you may be sure, excited their curiosity, and they gave him no rest until he had told the whole of his story. It left their hopes utterly dashed: and the daughters lamented their lot, while their brothers hardily declared that they would never allow their father to return to thisaccursed castle—they would march thither in a body and destroy the horribleBeastwho owned it. But their father assured them that he had given his word and would rather die than break it.
Thereat the sisters turned uponBeautyand started to upbraid and rail against her.
'It is all your fault,' they declared; 'and this is what comes of your pretended modesty! Why could you not have asked for dresses and jewels as we did? Even if you could not get them, at least the demand would have cost nothing. But you chose to be singular—you, with your precious rose! and now our father must die, and we must all suffer through your affectation!'
PoorBeautycontrolled her tears and answered them: 'Yes, I am to blame for all this, though, indeed, dear sisters, I did it innocently; for how could I guess that to ask for a rose in the middle of summer, as it was then, would give rise to all this misery? But what does that matter? Innocent or guilty, I cannot allow you to suffer for what was my fault; and so I will go back with our father to save him from his promise. That will be ina month's time, and in this little month, I beg of you, let us be happy together without reproaches.'
At first her brothers would not hear of any such sacrifice, and her father was equally set against it, until the sisters again fired up in their jealousy and accused him of being distressed only because it happened to beBeauty; if another of his daughters (they hinted) had offered to pay this price for his life, he would have accepted it cheerfully enough!
Beautyclosed this talk by saying firmly that, whether they wished it or not, she would go—'And who knows,' said she, forcing a brave smile, 'but this fate of mine, which seems so terrible, may cover some extraordinary and happy fortune?' She said it merely to hearten them; but her sisters, fancying her deluded by vanity and self-conceit, smiled maliciously and applauded. So their father gave way, and it was agreed thatBeautymust go. For her part she desired only that the few days remaining to her might be as happy as possible; and so, as they passed she spoke little of what was before her, and, if at all, only to treat it lightly and as a piece of good fortune. When the time drew near she shared up all her trinkets and little possessionswith her sisters—for, badly as they had treated her, they were the only friends she had. Yet jealousy had made their hearts so wicked that when the fatal day arrived they actually rejoiced to hear the neighing of a horse which, punctually sent by theBeast, arrived at the door of the cottage.
Soon they caught sight of the castle in the distance.
The brothers would have rushed out and slain the beautiful animal; butBeauty, mastering their anger with a few tender words, bade her father mount into the saddle; and so, after bidding her sisters farewell with a tenderness that forced them to weep at the last, climbed to the pillion behind him quite as if she were setting out for a holiday. They were off! The horse seemed to fly rather than to gallop; so smoothly thatBeautycould scarcely feel the motion save by the soft wind that beat on her cheek. Soon they caught sight of the castle in the distance. Her father, less happy than she, again and again asked and begged her to alight and return—a most idle offer, for he had no real control of the reins. ButBeautydid not listen, because her mind was made up.
Nevertheless, she was awed, and all the more when, as the fleet horse galloped up to the courtyard,they were met by a great salvo of guns and, as the echoes died away, by the sound of soft music within the palace.
The horse had come to a stop, by a flight of agate steps; a light shone down these steps from a porchway within which the violins kept their throbbing.Beautyslipped down from the saddle, and her father, alighting after her, took her by the hand and led her to the chamber in which he had first supped; where, sure enough, they found a cheerful fire and a score of candles lit and burning with an exquisite perfume, and—best of all—a table laid with the daintiest of suppers.
The merchant, accustomed to the ways of their host, knew that the supper was meant for them, andBeautyfell-to with a good appetite. Her spirits indeed were rising. There had been no sign of anyBeastin all the many rooms through which she had passed, and everything in them had seemed to breathe of gaiety and good living.
But this happy frame of mind did not last long. They had scarcely finished supper when theBeastwas heard coming through the distant rooms. At the sound—the heavy padding of his feet, the roarof his breath—Beautyclung to her father in terror, and had almost fainted against the arm which he flung around her. But when theBeaststood before her in the doorway, after a little shudder she walked towards him with a firm step, and, halting at a little distance, saluted him respectfully. This behaviour evidently pleased theBeast. After letting his eyes rest on her face for a while, he said, in a tone that might well have struck terror into the boldest heart (and yet it did not seem to be angry):—
'Good evening, my good sir! Good evening,Beauty!'
The merchant was too far terrified to find his voice; butBeautycontrolled hers and answered sweetly:—
'Good evening,Beast!'
'Have you come here of your own free will?' asked theBeast. 'And are you willing to let your father return and leave you here?'
Beautyanswered that she was quite willing.
'Indeed? And yet what do you suppose will happen to you after he has gone?'
'Sir,' saidBeauty, 'that is as it pleases you, and you only can tell.'
'Well answered,' replied theBeast; 'and since you have come of your own accord, you shall stay. As for you, my good sir,' said he to the merchant, 'you will take your departure at sunrise. The bell will give you warning; delay not to rise, eat your breakfast, and depart as before. But remember that you are forbidden ever to come within sight of my palace again.'
Then, turning toBeauty, he said:—
'Take your father into the next room, and choose between you everything you think will please your brothers and sisters. You will find there two travelling trunks: fill them as full as they will hold.'
Sorrowful as she was at the certainty of losing her father so soon and for ever,Beautymade ready to obey theBeast'sorders, and he left them as he had come, saying:—
'Good night,Beauty! Good night, good sir!'
When they were alone,Beautyand her father went into the next room, which proved to be a store-chamber piled with treasures a king and queen might have envied. After choosing and setting apart in heaps,—one for each of her sisters,—the most magnificent dresses she could find,Beautyopened a cupboard which had a door of crystal framed in gold, and stood for a moment dazzled by the precious stones that lay piled on every shelf. After choosing a vast number and adding them to her heaps, she opened yet another wardrobe and found it full of money in gold pieces. This set her pondering.
'I think, father,' she said, 'that we had better empty these trunks again, and fill them with money. For money can always be turned to account, whereas to sell these precious stones you would have to go to some jeweller, who very likely would cheat you, and perhaps be suspicious of them. But with these pieces of gold you can buy land, houses, furniture, jewels—what you will—and no one will ask any questions.'
Her father agreed. Yet he first of all tried to make room for the money by emptying out the few things he had packed for himself. But this was no good: for it seemed that the trunks were made in folds which opened the wider the more he put in. Somehow the more they packed, the more room there seemed to be, and they ended by replacing all the dresses and precious stones they had taken out.But now the trunks were so heavy that an elephant would have sunk under them.
'It is all a cheat!' cried the merchant. TheBeastis mocking us, and only pretended to give us these things, knowing that I could not carry them away.'
'Wait a little,' advisedBeauty. 'That would be a sorry jest, and I cannot help thinking that theBeastis honest; and that since he offered these gifts he will find you also the means to carry them. The best thing we can do is to strap up the trunks and leave them ready here.'
So they did this and went back to the little room, where to their amazement they found a breakfast laid on the table. For a moment they could scarcely believe that the night had flown by whilst they were occupied in ransacking the treasure chamber and packing the trunks. But, glancing at the windows, they saw that day was indeed breaking; and presently a bell sounded, warning the merchant to eat quickly and depart.
He finished his meal, and they went down together to the courtyard, where two horses stood ready—the one laden with the two trunks, theother saddled for the merchant to ride. And nowBeautyand her father would fain have spent a long time in bidding one another farewell. But the two horses neighed and pawed the ground so impatiently that he was afraid to linger. Tearing himself from his daughter's arms he mounted in haste, and could scarcely turn to say good-bye before both horses sprang away swift as the wind and he was lost to sight in an instant.
PoorBeauty! She gazed and gazed through her tears, and so mounted the stairs sorrowfully back to her own chamber. On reaching it she felt herself oppressed with sleepiness, for she had passed the night without undressing, and, moreover, for a month past her sleep had been broken and haunted with terrors. So, having nothing better to do, she went to bed, and was nestling down in the perfumed sheets when her eyes fell on the little table by the bedside. Some one had set a cup of hot chocolate there, and, half asleep, she reached out her hand for it and drank it; whereupon her eyes closed and she fell into a delicious slumber, such as she had not known since the day when her father brought home the fatal rose.
She dreamed that she was walking alongside an endless canal, the banks of which were bordered with tall orange-trees and myrtles in flower. There, as she wandered disconsolately lamenting her fate, of a sudden a youngPrincestood before her. He was handsome as the God of Love in picture-books, and when he spoke it was with a voice that went straight to her heart. 'DearBeauty,' he said, 'you are not so unfortunate as you suppose. It is here you shall find the reward of your goodness, denied to you elsewhere. Use your wits to find me out under the disguise which hides me—that is, if as I stand here now you find me not altogether contemptible. For I love you tenderly—you alone—and in making me happy you can attain to your own happiness. Beloved, never distrust your own true heart, and it shall lead you where the heart has nothing left to desire!' So saying, the charming apparition knelt at her feet, and again besought her to accept his devotion and become mistress over all his life.
'Ah! What can I do to make you happy?' she asked earnestly.
'Only be grateful,' he answered, 'and do notbelieve all that your eyes would tell you. Above all, do not abandon me until you have rescued me from the cruel sufferings I endure.'
With that the dream melted away, but only to be succeeded by another. She found herself face to face with a stately and beautiful lady; and the lady was speaking to her with dignity, yet most kindly.
'DearBeauty,' she said, 'do not grieve for what you have left behind; a far higher destiny lies before you. Only, if you would deserve it, beware of being misled by appearances.'
Beautyfound her dreams so agreeable that she was in no hurry at all to awake, and even when her eyes opened to the daylight she had more than half a mind to close them again. But a clock, chiming out her own name twelve times, warned her that it was midday and time to get up. She rose, therefore, and found her dressing-table set out with brushes and combs and everything she could want; and having dressed carefully, and with a lightness of heart for which she found it hard to account, she passed into the next room and found her dinner on the table.
Dinner does not take very long when you areall by yourself.Beauty, when she had eaten enough, sat down on a sofa and began to think of the handsome youth she had seen in her dream. 'He told me I could make him happy. Why, then, it must be that the horribleBeast, who appears to be master here, is keeping him a prisoner. How can I set him free?... They both warned me not to trust to appearances. It is all very puzzling.... But one thing is clear at any rate, that I am very silly to be vexing my head over a dream. I will forget all about it, and look for something to do to amuse myself.'
She sprang up, and started to make a tour of discovery through the many rooms of the palace. They were even grander than she had expected. The first she entered was lined with mirrors from floor to ceiling, where she saw herself reflected on every side. The next thing to catch her eye was a bracelet, hanging from one of the chandeliers. Set in the bracelet was a gold locket, and opening this she was startled indeed; for it contained a portrait in miniature of the gallant youth she had seen in her dream. She could not be mistaken; so closely were his features engraved on her memory—yes,and, it may be, on her heart. She slipped the bracelet on her wrist, without stopping to think that it did not belong to her, and went on to explore further. She passed into a long picture gallery, and there again she met thePrince'sface. It smiled down at her, this time from a life-sized portrait, and it seemed to smile so wistfully that she caught herself blushing.
From the gallery her steps had led her to a chamber filled with instruments of music.Beautywas an accomplished musician; so, sitting down, she amused herself by tuning and trying over one instrument after another; but she liked the harp best because that went best with her voice.
Leaving the music-room at length, she found herself in a long chamber like the picture gallery, but lined with books. It held an immense library; andBeauty, ever since she had lived in the country, had been forced to do without reading, for her father had sold all his books to pay his debts. Now, as her eyes travelled along the shelves, she knew she need never have any fear that time would pass heavily here. The dusk was gathering before she had half-studied even the titles of the thousandsof volumes; and numbers of candles, waxen and scented, in chandeliers with lustres of diamonds and rubies, were beginning to light themselves in every room.
In due timeBeautyfound supper laid and served for her, with the same good taste and orderliness as before, and still she had seen no living face. What did this matter? Her father had warned her that she would be solitary; and she was beginning to tell herself that she could be solitary here without much discomfort, when she heard the noise of theBeastapproaching. She could not help trembling a little; for she had not yet found herself alone with him, and knew not what would happen—he might even be coming to devour her. But when he appeared he did not seem at all ferocious.
'Good evening,Beauty,' he said gruffly.
'Good evening,Beast,' she answered gently, but shaking a little.
'Do you think you can be content here?' he asked.
Beautyanswered politely that it ought not to be hard to live happily in such a beautiful palace.
After this they talked for an hour, and in the course of their talkBeautybegan to excuse many things in theBeast—his voice, for example. With such a nose how could he help roaring through it? Really, he appeared to be wanting in tact rather than purposely terrible; though, to be sure, this want of tact terrified her cruelly, when at length he blurted out:—
'Will you be my wife,Beauty?'
'Ah! I am lost!' thoughtBeauty. TheBeastcould not be so dull-witted after all, for, though she kept the cry to herself, he answered quickly, and just as if she had uttered it aloud:—
'Not at all. I wish you to answer just "yes" or "no."'
'Oh! no,Beast.'
'Very well, then,' said this tractable monster. 'Since you will not, I had best be going. Good night,Beauty.'
'Good night,Beast,' answeredBeauty, relieved of her fright. She felt sure now that he did not mean to hurt her, and as soon as he had taken his leave she went off to bed, and was asleep in no time.
But almost as quickly she was dreaming, and in her dream at once she saw her unknown lover standing beside her, handsome as ever, but more sorrowful than before.
'DearBeauty,' he said, 'why are you so cruel to me? I love you the better for being so stubborn, and yet it lengthens out my misery.'
She could not understand this at all. Her dream wavered and it seemed to her that he took a hundred different shapes in it. Now he had a crown between his hands and was offering it to her; now he was kneeling at her feet; now he smiled, radiant with joy; and again he buried his head in despair and wept till the sound of his sobbing pierced her heart. Thus, in one aspect or another, he was with her the night through. She awoke with him in her thoughts, and her first act was to unclasp the locket on her wrist and assure herself that the miniature was like him. It certainly was the same face, and his, too, was the face that smiled down from the larger portrait in the gallery. But the face in the locket gave her a more secret joy and she unclasped and gazed on it again and again.
This morning she went down into the gardens, where the sun shone 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 unknownPrincestanding 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 theBeastrepeat 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 wonderfulsight of all—an aviary full of the rarest birds, yet all so tame that they flew toBeauty, 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 sawBeautythan 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. Herewere 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 whichBeautyfound highly diverting; and yet she could not help sighing that none of these animals were able to tell her news of her unknownPrince 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 escortBeautymarched back to luncheon, and while she ate it the birds piped and fluted around her for accompaniment to the parrots, who liftedup 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—thankedBeautyfor the indulgence she had shown to their poor efforts.
That night again, after supper, theBeastpaid 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 stillBeautyfound 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, andBeautyin ecstasy with every scene of it. When the curtain fell she still lingered in her box, hoping to see the fashionable crowd disperse; but somewhatto 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 theBeastpaid 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.'Beautycould 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, 'iftheBeastdid not pester me so. I—I almost think, by his foolish compliments, that he would like me to marry him.'Beautyexpected 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 thePrinceshould 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 toBeautyto 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 beingcheated; 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, howBeautylonged 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.Beautybegan 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. TheBeastalone (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.
NowBeauty, whatever else she thought of theBeast, 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 herPrince Charminghad 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, dearBeauty?' he demanded. 'Why are you in this distress?... Ah, it is theBeastwho persecutes you! But, never fear, you shall be delivered here and now from his attention'—and with these words thePrincesnatched 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. ButBeauty, 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 thePrince, still with his dagger lifted; 'and am I no more than that?' 'You are an unfaithful one, at any rate,' persistedBeauty; 'if, knowing well that I wouldlay 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 leftBeautyso 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,' saidBeauty, 'if only I might go home!'
'You wish to go home? 'TheBeast'sface 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 poorBeast? What more can I do to make you happy? Or is it because you hate me, that you wish to be gone?'