Part 2

“Be he alive or be he dead I’ll grind his bones to make my bread.”

“What nonsense!” said his wife. “If anyone had come here don’t you suppose I would have seen him? A crow flew over the roof and dropped a bone down the chimney, and that is what you smell.”

When she said that the giant believed her. He sat down at the table and called for breakfast. The woman set before him three whole roasted oxen and two loaves of bread each as big as a hogshead, and the giant ate them up in a twinkling.

“Now, wife, bring me my moneybags from the treasure-room,” he said.

His wife went out through a great door studded with nails, and when she came back she brought two bags with her and set them on the table in front of the giant. The giant untied the strings and opened them, and they were full of clinking golden money. The giant sat there and counted and counted the money. After it was all counted he put it back in the bags again, and then he stretched his legs out in front of him and went to sleep and snored until the rafters shook.

The giant’s wife worked around for awhile and then she went into another room. Jack waited until he was sure she had gone, and then he pushed the lid of the pot aside and crept out. He crept over to the table and seized hold of the moneybags and made off with them, and neither the giant nor his wife knew anything about it until Jack was safe down the bean-stalk and home again.

When Jack’s mother saw the moneybags she was filled with wonder and joy. “Those were once your father’s,” said she, “but they were stolen from him, and never did I think to see them again.”

After that Jack and his mother lived well, they had plenty to eat and drink, and good clothes to wear, and everything they wanted. And they were not stingy; they shared their good luck with their neighbors as well.

After awhile the money was almost gone. “I’ll just climb up the bean-stalk again,” said Jack to himself, “and see what else the giant has in his castle.”

He climbed and he climbed and he climbed, and after awhile he came to the giant’s country, and there in front of him lay the road to the castle. Jack walked along briskly, setting one foot in front of the other till he came to the castle door, and as he saw no one he opened the door and stepped inside.

There was the giant’s wife scouring the pots and pans, and when she saw Jack she almost dropped the skillet she was holding.

“You here again?”

“Yes, here I am again,” said Jack.

“Then I wish you were some place else,” said the giant’s wife; “when you were here before our moneybags were stolen, and I can’t help thinking you had something to do with it.”

“Oh, oh! How can you think that?” cried Jack.

“Well, be off with you, anyway”; and the giant’s wife spoke quite glumly. “I want no more strange lads around here.”

Yes, Jack would be off in a moment, but wouldn’t she give him a bite of breakfast first?

No, the giant’s wife wouldn’t, and that was flat.

But Jack was not to be turned off so easily; he talked and begged and argued, and while he was still talking they heard the giant at the door.

The giant’s wife was terribly scared, “Oh, if he finds you here won’t I get a beating!” she cried.

“Quick; into the pot again!”

Jack crawled into the copper pot and the giant’s wife put the lid over him.

The next moment the giant stamped into the room.

“Fee, fi, fo, fum,”

he bawled,

“I smell the blood of an Englishman; Be he alive or be he dead, I’ll grind his bones to make my bread!”

“Nonsense,” said his wife, “you’re always fancying things. Here, sit down at the table and eat your breakfast. A crow flew over the roof and dropped a bone in the fire, and that is what you smell.”

The giant sniffed about a bit, and then, still muttering to himself, he sat down at the table and began to eat. After he had finished he cried, “Now wife, bring me my little red hen from the treasure-room.”

His wife went into the treasure-room, and presently she came back with a little red hen in her apron. She set it on the table before the giant. The giant grinned till he showed all his teeth.

“My little red hen, my pretty red hen, lay,” said the giant.

As soon as he said that the hen laid an egg all of pure gold.

“My little red hen, my pretty red hen, lay!” said the giant. Then the little red hen laid another egg.

“My little red hen, my pretty red hen, lay,” said the giant. Then the hen laid a third egg.

“There!” said the giant, “that is enough for to-day. Now, wife, you can take her back to the treasure-room again.”

His wife took up the hen and carried her off to the treasure-room, but when she came back into the kitchen she forgot to shut the treasure-room door behind her.

Then the giant stretched his legs out in front of him and went to sleep and snored till the rafters shook.

His wife worked around in the kitchen, and after awhile, when she wasn’t looking, Jack crept out of the pot. He crept over to the door of the treasure-room and slipped through, and there was the little red hen sitting comfortably on a golden nest.

Jack caught her up under his arm and she never made a sound. Then he crept back through the kitchen and out through the door, and made off down the road, and the giant’s wife never saw him at all.

But just as Jack reached the bean-stalk the hen began to cackle. This woke the giant. “Wife, wife,” he roared, “someone is stealing my little red hen,” and he ran out of the castle and looked all about him; but he could see no one, for Jack was already half-way down the bean-stalk.

After that Jack and his mother never had any lack of anything, for whenever he wanted money he had only to say, “My little red hen, my pretty red hen, lay,” and the hen would lay a gold egg.

Still Jack was not satisfied. He wanted to see what else was in the giant’s castle. So one day, without saying a word to his mother, he climbed the bean-stalk and hurried along the road to the giant’s castle. He did not want to meet the giant’s wife, for he thought maybe she had guessed that it was he who had taken the giant’s hen, and the moneybags, and so indeed she had, and what was more she had told the giant all about it, too.

Jack crept up to the castle very carefully, and he saw no one. He opened the castle door a crack and peeped in, and still he saw no one. He pushed it open a little wider and then he ran in and across the kitchen and hid himself in the great oven.

He had no more than done this before the giant’s wife came in. “Pfu!” said she. “What a draft!” and she closed the outside door. Then she set the giant’s breakfast on the table, still talking to herself. “The door must have blown open,” said she. “I’m sure I closed it when I went out.”

Presently the giant came thumping and stumping into the house. The moment he entered the room he began to bawl—

“Fee, fi, fo, fum! I smell the blood of an Englishman; Be he alive or be he dead, I’ll grind his bones to make my bread.”

“What? What?” cried his wife, “I found the door open just now. Do you suppose that dratted boy is in the house again?”

“If he is, I’ll soon put an end to him,” said the giant.

The giant’s wife ran to the copper pot and lifted the lid, and looked inside it, but no one was there. Then she and the giant began to hunt about. They looked in the cupboards and behind the doors, and every place, but they never thought of looking in the oven.

“He can’t be here after all,” said the wife, “or we would have found him. It must be something else you smell.”

So the giant sat down and began to eat his breakfast, but as he ate he mumbled and grumbled to himself.

After he had finished he said, “Wife, bring out my golden harp to sing for me.”

His wife went into the treasure-room and came back carrying a golden harp. She set it on the table before the giant and at once it began to make music, and the music was so beautiful that it melted the heart to hear it. The giant’s wife sat down to listen, too, and presently the music put them both to sleep. Then Jack crept out of the oven and seized the harp and made off with it.

At once the harp began to call, “Master! master! help! Someone is running off with me!”

The giant started out of sleep and looked about him. When he found the harp gone he gave a roar like an angry bull. He ran to the door and there was Jack already more than half-way down the road. “Stop! stop!” cried the giant, but Jack had no idea of stopping. He ran until he reached the bean-stalk, and then he began climbing down it as fast as he could, still carrying the harp.

The giant followed and when he came to the bean-stalk he looked down, and there was Jack far, far below him. The giant was not used to climbing. He did not know whether to follow or not. Then the harp cried again, “Help, master, help!” The giant hesitated no longer. He caught hold of the bean-stalk and began to climb down.

By this time Jack had reached the ground. “Quick! quick, mother!” he cried. “Bring me an ax.”

His mother came running with an ax. She did not know what he wanted it for, but she knew he was in a hurry.

Jack seized the ax and began to chop the bean-stalk. The giant above felt the stalk tremble. “Wait! wait a bit!” he cried, “I want to talk to you!”

But before he could say anything more the bean-stalk was chopped through and fell with a mighty crash, and as the giant fell with it that was the end of him.

But Jack and his mother lived in peace and plenty forever after.

BEAUTY AND THE BEAST

There was once a merchant who had three daughters. The two older ones were handsome enough, but the third was a beauty, and no mistake; her eyes were as blue as the sky, her hair was as black as ebony, and her cheeks were like roses. The merchant loved his two older daughters dearly, but this Beauty was the darling of his heart.

Things went along pleasantly for a long time, and the merchant was rich and prosperous, but then things began to go wrong with him. One after another of his ships was lost at sea, and a great part of his fortune with them.

One day the merchant called his daughters to him and said, “My children, I find it will be necessary for me to go on a long journey. I am no longer a rich man, but I wish to bring home a gift to each one of you, so tell me what you would like to have.”

Then the two older daughters began to think of all the things they wanted, and each was afraid the other would get something finer than she did.

At last the eldest spoke, “Dear father,” said she, “I wish you would bring me a velvet robe embroidered with gold, and shoes to match, and a fan to wave in my hand.”

“And I,” said the second, “would like a necklace of pearls, and pearls for my hair, and a fine bracelet.”

The merchant was troubled that his daughters should ask for such costly things, but he did not like to refuse them. “And you, Beauty,” said he, turning to his youngest daughter, “what will you have?”

“Dear father,” said she, “you have given me so much that I have nothing left to wish for; but if you bring me anything at all let it be a rose.”

When her older sisters heard this they were very angry. They thought that Beauty had asked only for a rose so that she might shame them before their father, and make him think she was more unselfish than they were. But Beauty had had no such thought as that.

The merchant smiled at his youngest daughter and kissed her thrice, but his older daughters he kissed only once. Then he mounted his horse and rode away.

He journeyed on for several days, and at last he reached the city he was bound for. Here he found he had lost even more of his fortune than he had thought. He was now a poor man. Still he managed to buy the gifts his two older daughters had asked for, and then with a sad heart he set out for home.

He had not journeyed far, however, when he was overtaken by a storm and lost himself in a deep forest. He rode this way and that, trying to find the way out, and then suddenly he came to an open place, and there he saw before him a magnificent castle.

The merchant was amazed. He had never heard of such a castle in that forest. He rode up to the door and knocked, hoping to find shelter for the night.

Scarcely had he knocked when the great door swung open before him. He entered and looked about, no one was there; everything was silent. Wondering he went on into one room after another. Everything was very magnificent and well arranged, but nowhere was a soul to be seen. At last he came to a room where a supper was set out. The plates were all of gold, and the fruits and meats were of the rarest and most delicious kinds.

The merchant was so hungry that he sat down at the table, and at once the food was served to him by invisible hands, while soft music sounded from a hidden room beyond.

He ate heartily and then arose and went in search of a place to sleep. This he soon found. A bed had been made ready in a large chamber, and here he undressed and lying down he slept until morning without being disturbed.

When he awoke he found his own travel-stained clothes had been taken away. In their place a handsome suit had been laid out, and other necessary things, all of the richest kind. There was also a bag filled with gold pieces. Wondering still more, the merchant arose and dressed and went out into the gardens to look about him. Here everything was more beautiful than any garden he had ever seen before. There were winding paths and fountains, and fruit-trees and flowering plants.

Beside one of the fountains was a rose-bush covered with the roses. The sight of these roses reminded the merchant of Beauty’s wish, and he thought it would be no harm to break off one to carry to her. He chose the largest and finest rose. Scarcely had he plucked it, however, when the air was filled with a sound of thunder, the ground rocked under his feet, and a terrible looking beast appeared before him.

“Miserable man!” cried the Beast, “what have you done? All the best in the castle was offered to you. Why have you broken my rose-bush that is dearer to me than anything in the world? Now for this you must surely die.”

The merchant was terrified. “Oh, dear, good Beast do not kill me!” he cried. “I meant no harm. Only let me go, and I will never trouble you again.”

“No, no,” answered the Beast. “You shall not escape so easily. You have broken my rose-bush and you must suffer for it.”

Still the merchant begged and entreated to be spared and at last the Beast had pity on him. “If I spare your life,” said he, “what will you give me in return for it?”

“Alas,” said the merchant, “what can I give you? I have lost all my fortune and I am now a poor man. I have nothing left in the world but my three daughters.”

“Give me one of your daughters for a wife and I will be satisfied,” said the Beast.

The merchant was horrified at the thought of such a thing. He would have refused, but he feared that if he did so the Beast would tear him to pieces at once.

“You may have three months in which to think it over,” said the Beast. “But you must promise me that at the end of that time you will return here and either bring me one of your daughters or come prepared to die.”

The merchant was obliged to promise this; he could not help himself. As soon as he had promised the Beast disappeared and the man was free to go, and this he was not slow to do.

He rode on toward his home and his heart was heavy within him. He did not see how he could possibly give one of his daughters to be the bride of a hideous beast and yet he did not wish to die.

His daughters met him with joy, and the two older sisters were delighted when they saw the beautiful gifts he had brought them. Only Beauty noticed his sad and downcast looks.

“Dear father,” said she, “why are you troubled? Has something unfortunate happened to you?”

At first her father would not tell her, but she urged and entreated him to tell her until finally he could keep silence no longer. He told his daughters all about the castle and his adventure there and of the Beast, and of how unless one of them would consent to marry the Beast he would have to lose his life.

When the older daughters heard this they were ready to faint. Not even to save their father’s life could they consent to marry such a creature.

“Dear father,” said Beauty, “you shall not die. I will be the Beast’s bride.”

“Yes, yes,” cried her sisters. “That is only right. If Beauty had not asked for the rose this misfortune would not have happened.”

To this the merchant would not at first agree. Beauty was the dearest to him of all his daughters. He had hoped that if any of them was to marry the Beast it might be one of the older sisters. But they would not hear of this and when, at the end of three months, the merchant set out to return to the castle he took Beauty with him.

They rode along and rode along and after awhile they came to the forest, and then it did not take the merchant long to find the castle. He knocked at the door, and it opened as before, and he and Beauty went in through one room after another, and everything was so magnificent that she could not but admire it. At last they came to the supper-room, and here a delicious feast was set out for them. They sat down and ate while soft music sounded around them. Beauty began to think the master of all this could not be such a terrible creature after all.

But scarcely had they finished their supper before the Beast appeared before them, and when Beauty saw him she began to shake and tremble, for he was even more dreadful looking than her father had said.

“Do not fear me, Beauty,” he said in a gentle voice. “I will do you no harm. Your father has brought you here, and it is true that here you must stay, but you need not marry me unless you are quite willing to.”

“I do not wish to marry you, Beast, and you must know that,” said Beauty. “But I fear that if I do not you may harm my father.”

“No, Beauty, I will not harm him. He may go in peace, and perhaps after you have been here awhile you may learn to like me enough to marry me.”

Beauty did not believe this, but the Beast spoke so gently that she no longer feared him and when the time came for her father to go she bade him good-by and did not grieve him by weeping.

After that Beauty lived there in the Beast’s castle and was well content. Every day she went out into the gardens, and the Beast came and played with her for awhile, and she grew very fond of him. Every day before he left her he said, “Beauty, are you willing to marry me?”

But always Beauty answered, “No, dear Beast, I do not wish to marry you.”

Then the Beast would sigh heavily and go away.

One day Beauty was sitting before a large mirror in her room, and she was sad because she had not seen her father for so long.

“I wish,” said she, “that I could see what my dear father is doing at this moment.”

As she said this she raised her eyes to the mirror. What was her surprise to see in it the reflection of a room quite different from the one she was in. It was a room in her own home that she saw reflected there. She saw in it the images of her father and sisters. She could see them smile and move, and she could tell exactly what they were doing. She found she could watch them in the mirror for as long as she pleased and whenever she pleased.

After this Beauty often came to sit before the mirror, and she had only to wish it and she could see her home, and all that was going on there.

But one day when she sat down before the glass she saw that her father was ill. He lay upon his bed so pale and weak that Beauty was terrified. She jumped up and ran out into the garden calling for the Beast.

At once he appeared before her. “What is it?” asked the Beast anxiously. “What has frightened you, Beauty?”

“Alas,” she cried, “my father is ill. Oh, dear, kind Beast let me go to him I pray, and I will love you for ever after.”

The Beast looked very grave. “Very well, Beauty,” he said, “I will let you go, for I can refuse you nothing. But promise me you will return at the end of a week, for if you do not some great misfortune will happen to me.”

Beauty was very willing to promise this. The Beast then gave her a ring set with a large ruby. “When you go to bed to-night,” he said, “turn the ruby in toward the palm of your hand and wish you were in your father’s house, and in the morning you will find you are there. When you are ready to return do the same thing, and you will find yourself back in the castle again. And do not forget that by the end of a week, to an hour, you must return or you will bring suffering upon me.”

Beauty did as the Beast told her. That night when she lay down she turned the ruby of the ring in toward the palm of her hand and wished she were in her father’s house, and what was her joy, when she awakened the next morning, to find herself in her own bed at home. She arose and ran to her father’s room, and the merchant was so delighted to see her that from that hour he began to get better, and in a few days he was as well as ever again.

Beauty’s sisters asked her a great many questions about the castle where she lived, and when they heard how fine it was, and how happy she was there, they were filled with envy. “Beauty always gets the best of everything,” they said to each other. “She is younger than either of us, and see how finely she lives; much better than we do.” They then planned together as to how they could keep Beauty from going back to the castle at the end of the week. “If we can only make her break her promise to the Beast,” said they, “he might be so angry with her that he would send her away and take one of us to live at his castle instead.”

The day before Beauty was to return to the Beast they put a sleeping-powder in the goblet that she drank from.

As soon as Beauty had swallowed this powder she became very sleepy. Her eyelids weighed like lead, and presently she fell into a deep slumber, and she did not awaken for two days and nights. At the end of that time Beauty had a dream, and in her dream she walked in the castle gardens. She came to the rose-bush beside the fountain, and there lay the poor Beast stretched out on the ground, and he was almost dead. He opened his eyes and looked at her sadly. “Ah, Beauty, Beauty,” he said, “why did you break your promise to return at the end of a week? See what suffering you have brought on me.”

Beauty awoke, sobbing bitterly. “Alas, alas!” she cried. “I must go at once. I feel some harm has come to the Beast, and that it is my fault, though how I do not know.” For she did not know she had been asleep for two days and nights.

She turned the ruby ring with the ruby toward the palm of her hand, and wished herself back in the castle and then lay down and went to sleep.

When she awoke she was in the castle again, and it was early morning. She ran out into the garden, and straight to the rose-bush. There, as in her dream, she saw the Beast stretched out on the ground, and he seemed to be without life or breath. Beauty threw herself down on the ground and took his head in her lap, and her tears ran down and fell upon him, and it seemed to her she did not love even her father as dearly as she loved the Beast. “Oh, Beast—dear, dear Beast,” she cried, “can you not hear me? Are you quite, quite dead?”

Then the Beast opened his eyes and looked at her. “Ah, Beauty,” he said, “I thought you had deserted me. Do you not yet love me enough to marry me?”

“Oh, I do! I do love you enough, and gladly will I be your bride,” cried Beauty.

No sooner had she said this than the rough furry hide of the Beast fell apart, and a handsome young prince all dressed in white satin and silver stood before her. Beauty looked at him wondering. “Yes, you shall indeed be my own dear bride,” cried the Prince, “for you and you alone have broken the enchantment that held me.”