Part 7

'I can only give you the same counsel that, by your own admission, you are always receiving from these phantoms of your dreams. "Do not trust to appearance," they say, and "Be guided by your heart's gratitude"; and they tell you this over and over again. What can it mean, child, but one thing? The _Beast_, you say, is frightful. His appearance is certainly against him. Then judge him rather by the gratitude which you certainly owe him. It is plain that he has a good heart--"handsome is as handsome does"--it is clear to me that these phantoms would have you say "Yes" to the _Beast_, and I too advise you to consent.'

_Beauty_ saw the wisdom of this and knew very well that her father was counselling her for the best. Nevertheless it needed something more than this to reconcile her with marrying a monster, and she felt relieved at the thought that for two whole months she could put off deciding. Strange to say, as the days went by and the time of her departure drew nearer, she found herself looking forward to it rather than repining. For one thing distressed her and spoilt all her happiness--she never dreamed at all now.

The days went by, and as they drew to an end her brothers and even her father (forgetting his former good counsel) employed all persuasions to hinder her departure. But her mind was made up; and when the two months were passed she was resolute on everything but the hour of her parting. Every morning, when she got up, she meant to say good-bye, but somehow another night came and the farewells were still unspoken.

She reproached herself (as well she might), and was still thus cruelly torn between two minds, when one night a dream visited her--the first for two months and more.

She dreamed that she was back at the _Beast's_ palace, and wandering by a lonely path in the gardens which ended in a tangle of brushwood overhanging a cave. As she drew nearer she heard a terrible groaning, and running in haste she found the _Beast_ stretched there on the point of death. Still in her dream she was bending over him when the stately lady stepped forth from the bushes and addressed her in a tone of grave reproach:--

'I doubt, _Beauty_, if even now you have come in time. Cruel, cruel of you to delay! when your delay has brought him so near to death!'

Terrified by this dream _Beauty_ awoke in her bed with a start. 'I have done wickedly!' she cried. 'Am I too late? Oh, indeed I hope not!' She turned the ring upon her finger and said aloud in a firm voice: '_I wish to go back to my palace and see my Beast again!_'

With that she at once fell asleep, and only woke up to hear the clock chiming, '_Beauty, Beauty,_' twelve times on the musical note she so well remembered. She was back, then, at the palace. Yes, and--oh, joy!--her faithful apes and parrots were gathered around the bed, wishing her good morning!

But none of them could tell her any news of the _Beast_. They were here to serve her, and all their thoughts ended with their duty. Their good master--the lord of this splendid palace--what was he to them? At any rate nothing was to be learnt from them, and _Beauty_ was no sooner dressed than she broke away impatiently, wandering through the house and the gardens to fill up the time until evening should bring his accustomed visit. But it was hard work filling up the time. She went into the great hall and resolutely opened the windows one by one. The shows were there as before; but opera and comedy, fête and pageant, held no meaning for her: the players were listless, the music was null, the processions passed before her eyes but had lost their power to amuse.

Supper-time came at length; but when after supper the minutes passed and passed and still no _Beast_ appeared, then indeed _Beauty_ was frightened. For a long while she waited, listened, told herself this and that, and finally in a terror rushed down into the gardens to seek for him. The alleys were dark; the bushes daunted her with their black shadows; but still up and down ran poor _Beauty_, calling to the _Beast_, and calling in vain.

She was drenched with the dew, utterly lost and weary, when, after three hours, pausing for a moment's rest, she saw before her the same solitary path she had seen in her dream: and there in the moonlight she almost stumbled over the _Beast_.

He lay there, stretched at full length and asleep--or so she thought. So glad was she to have found him that she knelt and stroked his head, calling him by name over and over. But his flesh was cold beneath her hand, nor did he move or open his eyes.

'Ah, he is dead!' she cried, aghast.

But she put a hand over his heart, and to her inexpressible joy she felt that it was still beating. Hastily she ran to a fountain near by, and dipping water into her palms from its basin she ran and sprinkled it on his face, coaxing him with tender words as his eyes opened, and slowly--very slowly--he came to himself.

'Ah! what a fright you have given me!' she murmured. 'Dear _Beast_, I never knew how I loved you until I feared that you were dead--yes, dead, and through my fault! But I believe, if you had died, I should have died too.'

'_Beauty_,' said the _Beast_ faintly, 'you are very good if indeed you can love such an ugly brute as I am. It is true that I was dying for you, and should have died if you had not come. I thought you had forsaken me. But are you sure?'

'Sure of what?' asked _Beauty_.

'That you love me?'

'Let us go back to supper,' said _Beauty_, raising his head.

'Yes, let us go back to supper, 'agreed the _Beast_, lifting himself heavily on her arm. He still leaned on her, as they walked back to the palace together. But the supper--which they found laid for two--seemed to revive him, and in his old stupid way he asked her about the time she had spent at home, and if her father and brothers and sisters had been glad to see her.

_Beauty_, though weary enough after her search through the park and gardens, brisked herself up to tell of all that had happened to her in her absence. The _Beast_ sat nodding his head and listening in his old dull way--which somehow seemed to her the most comfortable way in the world. At length he rose to go. But at the doorway he put the old blunt question.

'_Beauty_, will you marry me?'

'Yes, dear _Beast_,' said _Beauty_; and as she said it a blaze of light filled the room. A salvo of artillery sounded, a moment later, from the park. Bang, bang! fireworks shot across the windows of the palace; sky rockets and Roman candles exploded and a magnificent set-piece wrote across the darkness in letters of fire--'LONG LIVE BEAUTY AND THE BEAST!'

_Beauty_ turned to ask what all these rejoicings might mean; and, with that, she gave a cry. The _Beast_ had vanished, and in his place stood the beloved _Prince_ of her dreams! He smiled and stretched out his hands to her. Scarcely knowing what she did, she was stretching hers, to take them, when above the banging of fireworks in the avenues there sounded a rolling of wheels. It drew to the porch, and presently there entered the stately lady she had seen in her dreams. It was the very same; and, all astounded as she was, _Beauty_ did reverence to her.

But the stately lady was as eager to do reverence to _Beauty_. 'Best and dearest,' said she, 'my son is going to love you always; as how should he not, seeing that by your courage you have rescued him from the enchantment under which he has lain so long, and have restored him to his natural form? But suffer also his mother, a Queen, to bless you!'

_Beauty_ turned again to her lover and saw that he, who had been a _Beast_, was indeed the _Prince_ of her dreams and handsomer than the day. So they were married and lived happy ever after; nay, so happy were they that all over the world folks told one another and set down in writing this wonderful history of _Beauty and the Beast_.

MORAL

_Maidens, from this tale of_ Beauty _Learn, and in your memory write--_ _Daily leads a Path of Duty_ _Through the Garden of Delight;_ _Where the loveliest roses wear_ _Daunting thorns, for you to dare._

ANOTHER

_Many shy, unhappy creatures_ _From the covert watch your mirth:_ _'Foul are we,' they mourn; 'our features_ _Blot the sun, deform the earth.'_ _Pity, love them, speak them fair;_ _Half their woe ye may repair._