Part 6

In the evening, as she was just sitting down to her meal, she heard the sound of the Beast's voice, and could not help shuddering. "Beauty," said the monster to her, "will you allow me to look on while you are eating your supper?" "You are master here," replied Beauty, trembling. "Not so," rejoined the Beast, "it is you who alone are mistress; if I annoy you, you have only to tell me to go, and I will leave you at once. But confess now, you think me very ugly, do you not?" "That is true," said Beauty, "for I cannot tell a lie; but I think you are very kind."

"You are right," said the monster; "but, besides being ugly, I am also stupid; I know, well enough, that I am only a Beast."

"No one is stupid, who believes himself to be wanting in intelligence, it is the fool who is not aware of being without it." "Eat, Beauty," said the monster to her, "and try to find pleasure in your own house; for everything here belongs to you. I should be very sorry if you were unhappy." "You are everything that is kind," said Beauty. "I assure you that your goodness of heart makes me happy; when I think of that, you no longer appear so ugly to me." "Ah, yes!" replied the Beast, "I have a kind heart, but for all that I am a monster." "Many men are more monsters than you," said Beauty; "and I care more for you with your countenance, than for those who with their human face hide a false, corrupt, and ungrateful heart." "If I had sufficient wit," responded the Beast, "I would make you a pretty answer in return for your words; but I am too stupid for that, and all I can say is, that I am very grateful to you."

Beauty ate her supper with a good appetite. She had lost almost all her fear of the monster, but she almost died of fright, when he said, "Beauty, will you be my wife?"

She sat for a while without answering; she was alarmed at the thought of arousing the monster's anger by refusing him. Nevertheless she finally said, trembling, "No, Beast." At this the poor monster sighed, and the hideous sound he made echoed throughout the castle, but Beauty was soon reassured, for the Beast, after sadly bidding her adieu, left the room, turning his head from time to time to look at her again.

A strong feeling of compassion for the Beast came over Beauty when she was left alone. "Alas!" she said, "it is a pity he is so ugly, for he is so good!"

Beauty spent three months in the castle, more or less happily. The Beast paid her a visit every evening, and conversed with her as she ate her supper, showing good sense in his talk, but not what the world deems cleverness. Every day Beauty discovered some fresh good quality in the monster; she grew accustomed to his ugliness, and far from fearing his visit, she would often look at her watch to see if it was nearly nine o'clock, for the Beast always arrived punctually at that hour. There was only one thing which caused distress to Beauty, and that was, that every evening before retiring, the monster asked her if she would be his wife, and always appeared overcome with sorrow at her refusal. One day she said to him, "You grieve me, Beast; I wish it were possible for me to marry you, but I am too truthful to make you believe that such a thing could ever happen; I shall always be your friend, try to be satisfied with that." "I suppose I must," responded the Beast; "I know I am horrible to look upon, but I love you very much. However, I am but too happy that you consent to remain here; promise me that you will never leave me." The colour came into Beauty's face; her mirror had shown her that her father was ill with the grief of losing her, and she was hoping to see him again. "I would promise without hesitation never to leave you," said Beauty to him, "but I do so long to see my father again, that I shall die of sorrow if you refuse me this pleasure." "I would rather die myself," said the monster, "than give you pain; I will send you home to your father, you will stay there, and your poor Beast will die of grief at your absence." "No, no," said Beauty, crying; "I care for you too much to wish to cause your death; I promise to return in a week's time. You have let me see that my sisters are married, and that my brothers have entered the army. My father is all alone, let me remain with him a week." "You shall be with him to-morrow morning, but remember your promise. When you wish to return, you have only to put your ring on the table before going to bed. Farewell, Beauty." The Beast gave his usual sigh as he said these words, and Beauty went to bed feeling troubled at the thought of the sorrow she had caused him. When she awoke the following morning, she found herself at home, and ringing a little bell that stood beside her bed, the maid-servant came in, who gave a loud cry of astonishment at seeing her there. Her father ran in on hearing the cry, and almost died of joy when he found his dear daughter, and they remained clasped in each other's arms for more than a quarter of an hour.

Beauty, after the first transports of joy were over, remembered that she had no clothes with her; but the servant told her that she had just found a trunk in the next room, in which were dresses of gold fabric, trimmed with diamonds. Beauty thanked the kind Beast for his thoughtfulness. She took out the least costly of the dresses, and told the maid to lock the others away again, as she wished to give them to her sisters; but she had no sooner uttered these words, than the trunk disappeared. Her father said to her that the Beast evidently wished her to keep them all for herself, and the trunk and the dresses immediately reappeared.

Beauty dressed herself, and, meanwhile, news of her arrival was sent to her sisters, who came in haste with their husbands. They were both extremely unhappy. The eldest had married a young man who was as handsome as nature could make him, but he was so in love with his own face, that he could think of nothing else from morning to night, and cared nothing for the beauty of his wife. The second had married a very witty and clever man, but he only made use of his ability to put everybody in a bad temper, beginning with his wife.

Her sisters nearly died of envy when they saw Beauty dressed like a princess, and beautiful as the day. In vain she showered caresses upon them, nothing could stifle their jealousy, which only increased when she told them how happy she was.

These two jealous creatures went into the garden, that they might cry more at their ease. They said to one another, "Why should this wretched little thing be happier than we are? Are we not more attractive than she is?"

"Sister," said the eldest one, "an idea has occurred to me: let us try to keep her here over the week. Her stupid old Beast will be enraged at her breaking her word, and perhaps he will devour her." "You are right, sister," replied the other; "to carry out our plan, we must appear very loving and kind to her." And having settled this, they went back to the house and were so affectionate to her, that Beauty cried for joy. When the week drew to a close, the two sisters showed such signs of grief at her departure, and made such lamentation, that she promised to stay till the end of the second one. Beauty, however, reproached herself for the sorrow she would cause her poor Beast, whom she loved with all her heart; and she began to miss him very much. On the tenth night of her absence, she dreamed that she was in the garden of the castle, and that she saw the Beast lying on the grass, apparently dying, and that he reproached her with her ingratitude. Beauty awoke with a start, and wept. "I am indeed wicked," she said, "to behave so ungratefully to a Beast who has been so considerate and kind to me! Is it his fault that he is ugly and that he is not clever? He is good, and that is worth everything else. Why did I refuse to marry him? I should be happier with him than my sisters are with their husbands. It is neither beauty nor wit in a husband which makes a wife happy; it is amiability of character, uprightness and generosity: and the Beast has all these good qualities. I do not love him, but I respect him, and I feel both affection for him, and gratitude. I will not make him unhappy; should I do so, I should reproach myself for it as long as I live."

With these words, Beauty rose, placed her ring on a table, and lay down again. The moment she was in bed, she fell asleep, and when she awoke next morning, she saw with delight that she was back in the Beast's castle. She dressed herself magnificently, in order to please him, and the hours seemed to drag as she waited for nine o'clock to strike; but the hour came, and the Beast did not appear.

Then Beauty began to fear that she had caused his death. She ran through the castle, uttering loud cries, for she was in despair. After having looked everywhere, she remembered her dream, and ran into the garden towards the water, where she had seen him in her sleep. She found the poor Beast stretched on the ground, and unconscious, and she thought he was dead. Forgetting her horror at his appearance, she threw herself upon him, and feeling that his heart was still beating, she fetched some water and threw it over his head. The Beast opened his eyes, and said to Beauty, "You forgot your promise; in my grief at losing you, I determined to let myself die of hunger; but I die happy, since I have had the joy of seeing you once again." "No, my dear Beast, you shall not die," exclaimed Beauty. "You shall live to be my husband; I am yours from this moment, and only yours. Alas! I thought the feeling I had for you was only one of friendship; but now I know, by the grief I feel, that I cannot live without you." Beauty had scarcely uttered these words before she saw the castle suddenly become brilliantly illuminated, while fire-works, music, everything indicated the celebration of some joyful event. She did not gaze long, however, at these splendours, but quickly turned her eyes again towards her dear Beast, the thought of whose danger made her tremble with anxiety. But what was her surprise when she saw that the Beast had disappeared, and that a young and handsome Prince was lying at her feet, who thanked her for having released him from enchantment. Although this Prince was fully worthy of her attention, Beauty, nevertheless, could not help asking what had become of the Beast. "You see him at your feet," said the Prince to her. "A wicked fairy condemned me to remain in the form of a monster, until some fair damsel would consent to marry me, and she forbade me also to betray that I had intelligence. You are the only one who has been kind enough to allow the goodness of my heart to touch yours, and I cannot, even by offering you my crown, acquit myself of obligation to you."

Beauty, agreeably surprised, gave the young Prince her hand, to help him to rise. They passed, side by side, into the castle, and Beauty nearly died of joy, when she found her father and all her family assembled in the dining-hall, the beautiful lady whom she had seen in her dream having transported them thither. "Beauty," said the lady, who was a well-known fairy, "receive the recompense of your noble choice; you preferred virtue to beauty or intelligence, and you therefore deserve to find all these qualities united in one person. You are soon to become a great queen; I trust your exalted position will not destroy your good disposition. As for you," said the fairy, turning to Beauty's sisters, "I know your hearts and all the malice concealed in them. Be turned, therefore, into statues, but preserve your consciousness beneath the stone which will envelop you. You will remain at the entrance of your sister's palace, and I impose no further punishment upon you, than to be the constant witnesses of her happiness. You will not be able to resume your present forms, until you have recognised and confessed your faults, but I greatly fear that you will always remain statues. Pride, anger, greediness, and laziness may be corrected; but nothing short of a miracle can convert the envious and malicious heart." The fairy then gave a tap with her wand, and all those assembled in the dining-hall were immediately transported into the Prince's kingdom. His subjects greeted him with joy; he married Beauty, who lived a long life with him of perfect happiness, for it was founded upon virtue.

THE BENEVOLENT FROG

There was once a King who for many years had been engaged in a war with his neighbours; a great number of battles had been fought, and at last the enemy laid siege to his capital. The King, fearing for the safety of the Queen, begged her to retire to a fortified castle, which he himself had never visited but once. The Queen endeavoured, with many prayers and tears, to persuade him to allow her to remain beside him and to share his fate, and it was with loud cries of grief that she was put into her chariot by the King to be driven away. He ordered his guards, however, to accompany her, and promised to steal away when possible to visit her. He tried to comfort her with this hope, although he knew that there was little chance of fulfilling it, for the castle stood a long distance off, surrounded by a thick forest, and only those who were well acquainted with the roads could possibly find their way to it.

The Queen parted from her husband, broken-hearted at leaving him exposed to the dangers of war; she travelled by easy stages, in case the fatigue of so long a journey should make her ill; at last she reached the castle, feeling low-spirited and distressed. When sufficiently rested, she walked about the surrounding country, but found nothing to interest her or divert her thoughts. She saw only far-spreading desert tracts on either side, which gave her more pain than pleasure to look upon; sadly she gazed around her, exclaiming at intervals, "What a contrast between this place and that in which I have lived all my life! If I stay here long I shall die! To whom have I to talk in these solitudes? With whom can I share my troubles? What have I done to the King that he should banish me? He wishes me, it seems, to feel the full bitterness of our separation, by exiling me to this miserable castle."

Thus she lamented; and although the King wrote daily to her, and sent her good news of the progress of the siege, she grew more and more unhappy, and at last determined that she would return to him. Knowing, however, that the officers who were in attendance upon her had received orders not to take her back, unless the King sent a special messenger, she kept her design secret, but ordered a small chariot to be built for her, in which there was only room for one, saying that she should like sometimes to accompany the hunt. She drove herself, and followed so closely on the hounds, that the huntsmen were left behind; by this means she had sole command of her chariot, and could get away whenever she liked. Her only difficulty was her ignorance of the roads that traversed the forest; but she trusted to the kindness of Providence to bring her safely through it. She gave word that there was to be a great hunt, and that she wished everybody to be there; she herself would go in her chariot, and each was to follow a different route, that there might be no possibility of escape for the wild beasts. Everything was done according to her orders. The young Queen, feeling sure that she should soon see her husband again, dressed herself as becomingly as possible; her hat was covered with feathers of different colours, the front of her dress lavishly trimmed with precious stones, and her beauty, which was of no ordinary kind, made her seem, when so adorned, a second Diana.

While everybody was occupied with the pleasures of the hunt, she gave rein to her horses, encouraged them with voice and whip, and soon their quickened pace became a gallop; then, taking the bit between their teeth, they flew along at such a speed, that the chariot seemed borne by the winds, and the eye could scarcely follow it. Too late the poor Queen repented of her rashness: "What could I have been thinking of?" she said. "How could I have imagined that I should be able to control such wild and fiery horses? Alas! what will become of me? What would the King do if he knew the great danger I am in, he who loves me so dearly, and who only sent me away that I might be in greater safety! This is my gratitude for his tender care!" The air resounded with her piteous lamentations; she invoked Heaven, she called the fairies to her assistance, but it seemed that all the powers had abandoned her. The chariot was overthrown; she had not sufficient strength to jump quickly enough to the ground, and her foot was caught between the wheel and the axle-tree; it was only by a miracle she was saved.

She remained stretched on the ground at the foot of a tree; her heart scarcely beat, she could not speak, and her face was covered with blood. She lay thus for a long time; when at last she opened her eyes, she saw, standing near her, a woman of gigantic stature, clothed only in a lion's skin, with bare arms and legs, her hair tied up with the dried skin of a snake, the head of which dangled over her shoulders; in her hand was a club made of stone, which served her as a walking-stick, and a quiver full of arrows was fastened to her side. When the Queen caught sight of this extraordinary figure, she felt sure that she was dead, for she did not think it was possible that she could be alive after such a terrible accident, and she said in a low voice to herself, "I am not surprised that it is so difficult to resolve to die, since what is to be seen in the other world is so frightful." The giantess, who overheard her words, could not help laughing at the Queen's idea that she was dead. "Take courage," she said to her, "for know that you are still among the living; but your fate is none the less sad. I am the Fairy Lioness, whose dwelling is near here; you must come and live with me." The Queen looked sorrowfully at her, and said, "If you will be good enough, Madam Lioness, to take me back to my castle, and tell the King what ransom you demand, he loves me so dearly, that he will not refuse you even the half of his kingdom." "No," replied the giantess, "I am rich enough, but for some time past my lonely life has seemed dull to me; you are intelligent, and will be able perhaps to amuse me." As she finished speaking, she took the form of a lioness, and placing the Queen on her back, she carried her to the depths of her cave, and there rubbed her with a spirit which quickly healed the Queen's wounds. But what surprise and misery for the Queen to find herself in this dreadful abode! It was only reached by ten thousand steps, which led down to the centre of the earth; there was no light but that shed by a number of tall lamps, which were reflected in a lake of quicksilver. This lake was covered with monsters, each hideous enough to have frightened a less timid queen; there were owls, screech-owls, ravens, and other birds of ill omen, filling the air with discordant sounds; in the distance could be seen rising a mountain whence flowed the sluggish waters of a stream composed of all the tears shed by unhappy lovers, from the reservoirs of their sad loves. The trees were bare of leaves and fruit, the ground covered with marigolds, briars, and nettles.

The food corresponded to the climate of this miserable country; for a few dried roots, some horse-chestnuts, and thorn-apples, were all that was provided by the Fairy Lioness to appease the hunger of those who fell into her hands.

As soon as the Queen was well enough to begin work, the fairy told her she could build herself a hut, as she was going to remain with her for the rest of her life. On hearing this, the Queen could no longer restrain her tears: "Alas, what have I done to you," she cried, "that you should keep me here? If my death, which I feel is near, would give you pleasure, I pray you, kill me, it is all the kindness I dare hope from you; but do not condemn me to pass a long and melancholy life apart from my husband."

The Lioness only scoffed at her, and told her that the best thing she could do was to dry her tears, and try to please her; that if she acted otherwise, she would be the most miserable person in the world.

"What must I do then," replied the Queen, "to soften your heart?" "I am fond of fly-pasties," said the Lioness. "You must find means of procuring a sufficient number of flies to make me a large and sweet-tasting one." "But," said the Queen, "I see no flies here, and even were there any, it is not light enough to catch them; and if I were to catch some, I have never in my life made pastry, so that you are giving me orders which it is impossible for me to execute." "No matter," said the pitiless Lioness; "that which I wish to have, I will have."

The Queen made no reply: she thought to herself, in spite of the cruel fairy, that she had but one life to lose, and in the condition in which she then was, what was there to fear in death? Instead, therefore, of going in search of flies, she sat herself down under a yew tree, and began to weep and complain: "Ah, my dear husband, what grief will be yours, when you go to the castle to fetch me, and find I am not there; you will think that I am dead, or faithless, and I would rather that you should mourn the loss of my life, than that of my love; perhaps someone will find the remains of my chariot in the forest, and all the ornaments which I took with me to please you; and when you see these, you will no longer doubt that death has taken me; and how can I tell that you will not give to another the heart's love which you have shared with me? But, at least, I shall not have the pain of knowing this, since I am not to return to the world." She would have continued communing thus with herself for a long time, if she had not been interrupted by the dismal croaking of a raven above her head. She lifted her eyes, and by the feeble light saw a large raven with a frog in its bill, and about to swallow it. "Although I see no help at hand for myself," she said, "I will not let this poor frog perish if I can save it; it suffers as much in its way, as I do in mine, although our conditions are so different," and picking up the first stick she could find, she made the raven drop its prey. The frog fell to the ground, where it lay for a time half-stunned, but finally recovering its froggish senses, it began to speak, and said: "Beautiful Queen, you are the first benevolent person that I have seen since my curiosity first brought me here." "By what wonderful power are you enabled to speak, little Frog?" responded the Queen, "and what kind of people do you see here? for as yet I have seen none." "All the monsters that cover the lake," replied the little Frog, "were once in the world: some on thrones, some in high positions at court; there are even here some royal ladies, who caused much strife and blood*-shed; it is they whom you see changed into leeches; their fate condemns them to be here for a time, but none of those who come return to the world better or wiser." "I can well understand," said the Queen, "that many wicked people together do not help to make each other better; but you, my little Frog friend, what are you doing here?" "It was curiosity which led me here," she replied. "I am half a fairy, my powers are restricted with regard to certain things, but far-reaching in others; if the Fairy Lioness knew that I was in her dominions, she would kill me."