NY PUBLIC LIBRARY THE BRANCH LIBRARIES

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VC&ST 53

FROM THE OLD FRENCH

retold by

NEW YOR.KL

NODDED AND STOVGHTON

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PREFACE

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/^\NCE upon a time I found myself halting
between two projects, both magnificent.
For the first, indeed — which was to discover, digest
and edit all the fairy tales in the world — I was
equipped neither with learning, nor with command
of languages, nor with leisure, nor with length of
years. It is a task for many men, clubbing their
lifetimes together. But the second would have cost
me quite a respectable amount of toil ; for it was
to translate and annotate • the whole collection of
stories in the Cabinet d^ -Fees* V

Preface

Now the Cabinet des Fees^ in the copy on my
shelves, extends to forty-one volumes, printed, as
their title-pages tell, at Geneva between the years
1785 and 1789, and published in Paris by M.
Cuchet, Rue et Hotel Serpente. The dates may
set us moralising. While the Rue Serpente un-
folded, as though

tranquil/a per alta,

its playful voluminous coils, the throne of France
with the Ancien Regime rocked closer and closer
to catastrophe. In 1789 (July), just as M. Cuchet
(good man and leisurable to the end) wound up
his series with a last volume of the Suite des ZMille
et Un 3^{uits, they toppled over with the fall of
the Bastille.

Even so in England — we may remind ourselves
— in 1653, when the gods made Oliver Cromwell
Protector, Izaak Walton chose to publish a book
about little fishes. But the reminder is not quite
apposite: for angling, the—contemplative man's
recreation, was no favourite or characteristic or
symbolical pursuit of the Order which Cromwell
overthrew (and, besides, he did not overthrow it);

/

^Preface

whereas, M. Cuchet's forty-one volumes most per-
tinently as well as amply illustrated some real
qualities, and those the most amiable of the
Ancien Regime. When we think of the French
upper classes from the days of Louis xiv. to the
Revolution, we associate them with a certain ele-
gance, a taste fastidious and polite, if artificial, in
the arts of living and the furniture of life ; and in
this we do them justice. But, if I mistake not, we
seldom credit them with the quality which more
than any other struck the contemporary foreign
observer who visited France with a candid mind-
I mean their good temper. We allow the Bastille
or the guillotine to cast their shadows backward
over this period, or we see it distorted in the glare
oi Burke's rhetoric or of Carlyle's lurid and fuligin-
ous history. But if we go to an eyewitness, Arthur
Young, who simply reported what he saw, having
no rhetorical axe to grind or guillotine to sharpen,
we get a totally different impression. The last oi
Young's Travels in France (1787-1789) actually
coincided with the close of M. Cuchet's pleasant
enterprise in publishing ; and I do not think
it ianciful to suppose that, had this very practical

^Preface

Englishman found time to read at large in the
Cabinet des Ftes, he would have discovered therein
much to corroborate the evidence steadily and
unconsciously borne by his own journals — that the
urbanity of life among the French upper classes
was genuine, reflecting a real and (for a whole
society) a remarkable sunniness of disposition.
Unconscious of their doom, the little victims played.
But they did play ; and they fell victims, not to
their own passions, but to a form of government
economically rotten.

Of all the volumes in the Cabinet •, possibly the
most famous are the first and second, containing the
fairy tales of Charles Perrault and Madame d'Aulnoy,
and vols. 7-11, containing M. Galland's version (so
much better than any translation) of The ^Arabian
Rights. I hope that one of those days Mr. Dulac
will lay the public under debt by illustrating all
these, and the stories of Antony Hamilton to boot.
Meanwhile, here are three of the most famous tales
from Perrault's wallet, and one, the evergreen
TSeauty and the ^Beast^ by an almost forgotten
authoress, Madame de Villeneuve.

The ghost of Charles Perrault, could it walk

:
, J

^Preface

to-day — perruque and all — might well sigh over
the vanity of human pretensions. For Monsieur
Perrault was a person of importance in his life-
time (1628-1703), and a big- wig in every sense
of the term. Colbert made him Secretary of the
Academy of Inscriptions, and anon Controller of
Public Works — in which capacity he suggested to
his architect-brother, Claude Perrault, the facade
of the Louvre with its renowned colonnade. He
flattered his monarch with a poem L,e SiZcle de
Louis le Qrand. 'Je ne sais,' observes a circle^
' si ce roi, malgre son amour excessif pour la
flatterie, fut content : les bornes etaient outre-
passees.' The poem, as a poem, had little success ;
but by positing that the Age of Louis was the
greatest in history, and suggesting that the moderns
were as good as the ancients or better, it started a
famous controversy. Boileau, Racine, La Bruyere,
honoured him by taking the other side, and forced
him to develop his paradox in a book of dialogues,
*Paralfeles des tAnciens et des ZModernes. But his
best answer was his urbane remark (for he kept his
temper admirably) that these gentlemen did ill to
dispute the superiority of the moderns while their

^Preface

own works gave proof of it. He wrote other
poems, other tractates (including one on the c Illus-
trious Men of his Age '), besides occasional tracts
on matters of high politics : and his memory is
kept alive by one small packet of fairy-tales- -stories
which he heard the nurse telling his little boy, and
set down upon paper for a recreation ! That is the
way with literary fame. To take an English ex-
ample : it is odds that Southey, poet-laureate and
politician of great self-importance in his day, will
come finally to be remembered by his baby- story
of The Three TSears. It will certainly outlive
Thalaba the ^Destroyer, and possibly even the Life
of 3\[elson.

As for Gabrielle Susanne, wife of M. de Gallon,
Seigneur de Villeneuve and lieutenant-colonel of
infantry (whom she outlived), she wrote a number
of romantic stories — Le fhenix Conjugal, Le Juge
^Parvenu, Le fBeau-Fr£re Suppose, La Jardiniere
de Vincennes, Le T^rince *A%erolles, etc. I am not
-perhaps few are- -acquainted with these works.
Madame de Villeneuve died in 1755 and lives only
by grace of her La "Belle et La "Bete ; and that
again lives in despite of its literary defects. It has

^Preface

style ; but the style inheres neither in its language,
which is loose, nor in its construction. The story,
as she wrote it, tails off woefully and drags to an
end in mere foolishness.

Since Perrault, who is usually accepted as the
fountainhead of these charming French fairy-stories,
belongs almost entirely to the seventeenth century,
it may be asked why Mr. Dulac has chosen to
depict his Princes and Princess in costumes of the
eighteenth? Well, for my part, I hold that he
has obeyed a just instinct in choosing the period
when the literature he illustrates was at the acme
of its vogue. But his designs, in every stroke of
which the style of that period is so unerringly felt,
provide his best apology.

My own share in this volume is, perhaps, less
easily defended. I began by translating Perrault's
tales, very nearly word for word ; because to me
his style has always seemed nearly perfect for its
purpose ; and the essence of ' style ' in writing is
propriety to its purpose. On the other hand the
late M. Ferdinand Brunetiere has said that Perrault's
is < devoid of charm,' and on this subject M.
Brunetiere's opinion must needs out-value mine

^Preface

ten times over. Certainly the translations, when
finished, did not satisfy me, and so I turned back
to the beginning and have rewritten the stories in
my own way, which (as you may say with the Irish
butler) c may not be the best claret, but 'tis the best
ye Ve got.'

I have made bold, too, to omit Perrault's con-
clusion of La 'Belle au 'Bois 'Dormant. To my
amazement the editor of the Cabinet des F^es
selects this lame sequel — it is no better than a
sequel- -of a lovely tale, and assigns to it the
credit of having established c la veritable fortune
de ce genre.' Frankly, I cannot believe him.
Further, I have condensed Madame de Villeneuve's
narrative and obliterated its feeble ending. In
taking each of these liberties I have the warrant
of tradition, which in the treatment of fairy-tales
speaks with a voice more authoritative than the
original author's, for it speaks with the united voices
of many thousands of children, his audience and
best critics. As the children have decreed that in
Southey's tale of The Three 'Bears the heroine shall

*

be a little girl, and not, as Southey invented her,
a good-for-nothing old woman, so they have

Preface

decreed the story of The Sleeping TSeauty to end
with the Prince's kiss, and that of TSeauty and the
TSeast with the Beast's transformation. And as
^Beauty and the TSeast is really but a variant of
the immortal fable of Cupid and Tsyche, I might
— had I room to spare — attempt to prove to
you that the children's taste is here, as usually,
right and classical.

ARTHUR QUILLER-COUCH

ILLUSTRATIONS

THE SLEEPING VEAUTT

there^ on a bed the curtains of which were drawn
wide^ he beheld the loveliest vision he had ever
seen (20) . . . . . . . Frontispiece

Her head nodded with spite and old age together^ as she

bent over the cradle (5)
They grew until nothing but the tops of the castle towers

could be seen (15)

PAGE

BLUE BEARD

They overran the house without loss of time (34) . . 35
The unhappy Fatima cried up to her^ ' Anne, sister

Anne, do you see any one coming ? ' (42) . . 41

Illustrations

FACE

Then Blue Beard roared out so terribly that he made the

'whole house tremble (44) . . . . . 45

CINDERELLA

She used to creep away to the chimney-corner and seat

herself among the cinders (49) . . . 51

Whereupon she instantly desired her partner to lead her

to the King and Queen (61) . . . .63

The ^Prime ^Minister was kept 'very busy during the next

few weeks (70) . , . . . . . 71

<BEAUTr AND THE BEAST

He had been fasting for more than twenty-four hours., and

lost no time in falling-to (80) . . . . 81

Soon they caught sight of the castle in the distance (91) . 91
! what a fright you have given me ! ' she mur-
mured (126) ....... 117

THE SLEEPING BEAUTY

ONCE upon a time there lived a King and a
Queen, who lacked but one thing on earth
to make them entirely happy. The Kjng was
young, handsome, and wealthy ; the ^ueen had
a nature as good and gentle as her face was
beautiful ; and they adored one another, having
married for love — which among kings and queens
is not always the rule. Moreover, they reigned over
a kingdom at peace, and their people were devoted to
them. What more, then, could they possibly want ?
Well, they wanted one thing very badly, and
the lack of it grieved them more than words can
tell. They had no child. Vows, pilgrimages, all

The Sleeping ^Beauty

ways were tried ; yet for a long while nothing came
of it all, and the poor ^ueen especially was in despair.

At last, however, to her own and her husband's
inexpressible joy, she gave birth to a daughter. As
soon as the palace guns announced this event, the
whole nation went wild with delight. Flags waved
everywhere, bells were set pealing until the steeples
rocked, crowds tossed up their hats and cheered,
while the soldiers presented arms, and even
strangers meeting in the street fell upon each other's
neck, exclaiming : c Our ^ueen has a daughter !
Yes, yes — Our 0$ueen has a daughter ! Long live
the little TrincessV

A name had now to be found for the royal
babe ; and the King and ^ueen^ after talking over
some scores of names, at length decided to call her
<Aurora^ which means T/ie Dawn. The Dawn
itself (thought they) was never more beautiful than
this darling of theirs. The next business, of course,
was to hold a christening. They agreed that it
must be a magnificent one ; and as a first step they
invited all the Fairies they could find in the land to
be godmothers to the ^Princess *Aurora\ that each
one of them might bring her a gift, as was the

2

The Sleeping ^Beauty

custom with Fairies in those days, and so she might
have all the perfections imaginable. After making
long inquiries — for I should tell you that all this
happened not so many hundred years ago, when
Fairies were already growing somewhat scarce — they
found seven. But this again pleased them, because
seven is a lucky number.

After the ceremonies of the christening, while
the trumpeters sounded their fanfares and the guns
boomed out again from the great tower, all the
company returned to the Royal Palace to find a
great feast arrayed. Seats of honour had been set
for the seven fairy godmothers, and before each was
laid a dish of honour, with a dish-cover of solid
gold, and beside the dish a spoon, a knife, and a
fork, all of pure gold and all set with diamonds and
rubies. But just as they were seating themselves at
table, to the dismay of every one there appeared in
the doorway an old crone, dressed in black and
leaning on a crutched stick. Her chin and her
hooked nose almost met together, like a pair of
nut-crackers, for she had very few teeth remaining ;
but between them she growled to the guests in a
terrible voice :

3

The Sleeping ^Beauty

c I am the Fairy Ugly an e \ Pray where are
your King's manners, that I have not been invited?'

She had in fact been overlooked ; and this was
not surprising, because she lived at the far end of
the country, in a lonely tower set around by the forest.
For fifty years she had never come out of this tower,
and every one believed her to be dead or enchanted.
That, you must know, is the commonest way the
Fairies have of ending : they lock themselves up in
a tower or within a hollow oak, and are never seen
again.

The King) though she chose to accuse his
manners, was in fact the politest of men. He
hurried to express his regrets, led her to table with
his own hand, and ordered a dish to be set for her ;
but with the best will in the world he could not
give her a dish-cover such as the others had, because
seven only had been made for the seven invited
Fairies. The old crone received his excuses very
ungraciously, while accepting a seat. It was plain
that she had taken deep offence. One of the
younger Fairies, Hippolyta by name, who sat by,
overheard her mumbling threats between her teeth ;
and fearing she might bestow some unlucky gift

4

The Sleeping TZeauty

upon the little ^Princess^ went as soon as she rose
from table and hid herself close by the cradle,
behind the tapestry, that she might have the last
word and undo, so far as she could, what evil the
Fairy Uglyane might have in her mind.

She had scarcely concealed herself before the
other Fairies began to advance, one by one, to
bestow their gifts on the Tr in cess. The youngest
promised her that she should be the most beautiful
creature in the world ; the next, that she should
have the wit of an angel; the third, a marvellous
grace in all her ways ; the fourth, that she should
dance to perfection ; the fifth, that she should sing
like a nightingale ; the sixth, that she should play
exquisitely on all instruments of music.

Now came the turn of the old Fairy Uglyane.
Her head nodded with spite and old age to-
gether, as she bent over the cradle and shook her
crutched staff" above the head of the pretty babe,
who slept on sweetly, too young and too innocent
as yet to dream of any such thing as mischief in
this world.

c This is my gift to you, Trincess tAuroraJ
announced the hag, still in her creaking voice that

5

The Sleeping T&eauty

shook as spitefully as her body. ' I promise that
one day you shall pierce your hand with a spindle,
and on that day you shall surely die ! '

At these terrible words the poor ^ueen fell back
fainting into her husband's arms. A trembling
seized the whole Court ; the ladies were in tears,
and the younger lords and knights were calling out
to seize and burn the wicked witch, when the
young Fairy stepped forth from behind the tapestry,
and passing by Uglyane, who stood scornful in
the midst of this outcry, she thus addressed their
Majesties : —

( Take comfort, O Kjng and ^ueen : your
daughter shall not die thus. It is true, I have not
the power wholly to undo what this elder sister of
mine has done. The ^Princess must indeed pierce
her hand with a spindle ; but, instead of dying,
she shall only fall into a deep slumber that shall
last for many, many years, at the end of which
a King's son shall come and awake her. When-
ever this misfortune happens to your little <Aurora^
do not doubt that I, the Fairy Hippolyta^ her god-
mother, shall get news of it and come at once to

render what help I may/

6

The Sleeping ^Beauty

The K^ng, while declaring himself infinitely
obliged to the good Fairy Hippolyta^ could not help
feeling that hers was but cold comfort at the best.
He gave orders to close the christening festivities
at once, although the Fairy Uglyane^ their spoil-joy,
had already taken her departure ; passing unharmed
through the crowd of folk, every one of whom
wished her ill, and riding away — it was generally
agreed — upon a broomstick.

To satisfy the K^ngs faithful subjects, however, —
who were unaware of any misadventure — the palace
fireworks were duly let off, with a grand set-piece
wishing Long Life to the 'Princess ^Aurora ! in all
the colours of the rainbow. But His Majesty, after
bowing from the balcony amid the banging of rockets
and hissing of Catherine wheels, retired to a private
room with his Chamberlain, and there, still amid
the noise of explosions and cheering, drew up the
first harsh proclamation of his reign. It forbade
every one, on pain of death, to use a spindle in
spinning or even to have a spindle in his house.
Heralds took copies of this proclamation and
marched through the land reading it, to the sound
of trumpets, from every market-place : and it gravely
B 7

The Sleeping TSeauty

puzzled and distressed all who listened, for their
women folk prided themselves on their linen. Its
fineness was a byword throughout the neighbouring
kingdoms, and they knew themselves to be famous
for it. ' But what sort of linen,' said they, £ would
His Majesty have us spin without spindles ? '

They had a great affection, however (as we have
seen), for their monarch ; and for fifteen or sixteen
years all the spinning-wheels were silent throughout
the land. The little Trincess ^Aurora grew up with-
out ever having seen one. But one day — the Kjng
and ^ueen being absent at one of their country houses
— she gave her governess the slip, and running at will
through the palace and upstairs from one chamber
to another, she came at length to a turret with
a winding staircase, from the top of which a strange
whirring sound attracted her and seemed to invite
her to climb. As she mounted after the sound,
on a sudden it ceased ; but still she followed the
stairs and came, at the very top, to an open door
through which she looked in upon a small garret
where sat an honest old woman alone, winding her
distaff. The good soul had never, in sixteen years,
heard of the King's prohibition against spindles ;

8

The Sleeping ^Beauty

and this is just the sort of thing that happens in
palaces.

c What are you doing, goody ? ' asked the
^Princess.

c I am spinning, pretty one,' answered the old
woman, who did not know who she was.

c Spinning ? What is that ? '

c I wonder sometimes,' said the old woman, £what
the world is coming to, in these days ! ' And that,
of course, was natural enough, and might occur to
anybody after living so long as she had lived in a
garret on the top of a tower. ' Spinning,' she said
wisely, c is spinning, or was ; and, gentle or simple,
no one is fit to keep house until she has learnt to
spin.'

' But how pretty it is ! ' said the ^Princess*
c How do you do it ? Give it to me and let me
see if I can do so well.'

She had no sooner grasped the spindle — she
was over-eager perhaps, or just a little bit clumsy,
or maybe the fairy decree had so ordained it-
than it pierced her hand and she dropped down in
a swoon.

The old trot in a flurry ran to the head of the

9

The Sleeping TSeauty

stairs and called for help. There was no bell rope,
and, her voice being weak with age and her turret
in the remotest corner of the palace, it was long
before any one heard her in the servants' hall. The
servants, too — in the absence of the King and
were playing cards, and could not be inter-

rupted by anybody until their game was finished.
Then they sat down and discussed whose business
it was to attend on a call from that particular turret ;
and this again proved to be a nice point, since no-
body could remember having been summoned thither,
and all were against setting up a precedent (as they
called it). In the end they decided to send up the
lowest of the junior page-boys. But he had a weak-
ness which he somehow forgot to mention — that of
fainting at the sight of blood. So when he reached
the garret and fainted, the old woman had to begin
screaming over again.

This time they sent up a scullery maid ; who,
being good-natured and unused to the ways of the
palace, made the best haste she could to the garret,
whence presently she returned with the terrible
news. The servants, who had gone back to their
game, now dropped their cards and came running.

10

The Sleeping TSeauty

All the household, in fact, came pouring up the
turret stairs ; the palace physicians themselves
crowding in such numbers that the poor ^Princess
^Aurora would have been hard put to it for fresh
air could fresh air have restored her. They dashed
water on her face, unlaced her, slapped her hands,
tickled the soles of her feet, burned feathers under
her nose, rubbed her temples with Hungary -water.
They held consultations over her, by twos and
threes, and again in Grand Committee. But nothing
would bring her to.

Meanwhile, a messenger had ridden off post-
haste with the tidings, and while the doctors were
still consulting and shaking their heads the K^ng
himself came galloping home to the palace. In
the midst of his grief he bethought him of what the
Fairies had foretold ; and being persuaded that,
since they had said it, this was fated to happen, he
blamed no one but gave orders to carry the Trincess
to the finest apartment in the palace, and there lay
her on a bed embroidered with gold and silver.

At sight of her, she was so lovely, you might
well have supposed that some bright being of the
skies had floated down to earth and there dropped

1 1

The Sleeping TZeauty

asleep after her long journey. For her swoon had
not taken away the warm tints of her complexion :
her cheeks were like carnations, her lips like coral :
and though her eyes were closed and the long lashes
would not lift, her soft breathing told that she was
not dead. The King commanded them all to leave
her and let her sleep in peace until the hour of her
awakening should arrive.

Now when the accident befell our 'Princess the
good Fairy Hippo lyta^ who had saved her life,
happened to be in the Kingdom of Mataquin,
twelve thousand leagues away ; but news of it was
brought to her in an incredibly short space of time
by a little dwarf who owned a pair of seven-league
boots. (These were boots in which you could
walk seven leagues at a single stride.) She set
off at once to the help of her beloved god-
daughter, and behold in an hour this good Fairy
arrived at the palace, in a fiery chariot drawn by
dragons.

Our King met her and handed her down from
the chariot. She approved of all that he had done;
but, greatly foreseeing as she was, she bethought
her that, as all mortals perish within a hundred

12

The Sleeping beauty

years or so, when the time came for the ^Princess
to awake she would be distressed at finding herself
orphaned and alone in this old castle.

So this is what she did. She touched with her
wand everything and everybody in the palace : the
I(ing<> the H$ueen ; the ministers and privy coun-
cillors ; the archbishop (who was the Grand
Almoner), the bishops and the minor clergy ; the
maids-of-honour, ladies of the bedchamber, gover-
nesses, gentlemen-in-waiting, equerries, heralds,
physicians, officers, masters of the household, cooks,
scullions, lackeys, guards, Switzers, pages, footmen.
She touched the Trincess's tutors and the Court
professors in the midst of their deep studies. She
touched likewise all the horses in the stables, with
the grooms ; the huge mastiffs in the yard ; even
7%y, the 'Princess's little pet dog, and Fluff ^ her
black-and-white cat, that lay coiled on a cushion
by her bedside.

The instant the Fairy Hippolyta touched them
they all fell asleep, not to awake until the same
moment as their mistress, that all might be ready
to wait on her when she needed them. The very
spits at the fire went to sleep, loaded as they were

'3

The Sleeping TSeauty

with partridges and pheasants; and the fire went to
sleep too. All this was done in a moment : the
Fairies were never long about their business in
those days.

But it so happened that one of the Kings
councillors, the Minister of Marine (his office
dated from a previous reign when the kingdom had
hoped to conquer and acquire a seaboard) had
overslept himself that morning and came late to the
palace without any knowledge of what had befallen.
He felt no great fear that his unpunctuality would
be remarked, the K^ng (as he supposed) being
absent in the country; nevertheless he took the
precaution of letting himself in by a small postern
door, and so missed being observed by the Fairy
and touched by her wand. Entering his office,
and perceiving that his under-secretary (usually so
brisk) and all his clerks rested their heads on their
desks in attitudes of sleep, he drew the conclusion
that something had happened, for he was an ex-
cellent judge of natural slumber. The farther he
penetrated into the palace, the stronger his sus-
picions became. He withdrew on tiptoe. Though
by nature and habit a lazy man, he was capable of

The Sleeping TSeauty

sudden decision, and returning to his home he
caused notices to be posted up, forbidding any one
to approach the castle, the inmates of which were
suffering from an Eastern but temporary affliction
known as the Sleeping Sickness.

These notices were unnecessary, for within
a few hours there grew up, all around the park,
such a number of trees of all sizes, and such a
tangle of briars and undergrowth, that neither beast
nor man could find a passage. They grew until
nothing but the tops of the castle towers could be
seen, and these only from a good way off. There
was no mistake about it : the Fairy had done her
work well, and the ^Princess might sleep with no
fear of visits from the inquisitive.

One day, many, many years afterwards, the
incomparable young ^Prince Florimond happened
to ride a-hunting on that side of the country
which lay next to the tangled forest, and asked :
' What were those towers he saw pushing up
above the midst of a great thick wood ? '

They all answered him as they heard tell.
Some said it was an old castle haunted by

ghosts.

c 15

The Sleeping TSeauty

Others, that all the wizards and witches of the
country met there to keep Sabbath.

The most general opinion was that an Ogre
dwelt there, and that he carried off thither all the
children he could catch, to eat them at his ease.
No one could follow him, for he alone knew how
to find a passage through the briars and brambles.
The Prince could not tell which to believe of all
these informants, for all gave their versions with
equal confidence, as commonly happens with those
who talk on matters of which they can know
nothing for certain. He was turning from one to
another in perplexity, when a peasant spoke up
and said : —

* Your Highness, long ago I heard my father
tell that there was in yonder castle a Princess,
the most beautiful that ever man saw ; that she
must lie asleep there for many, many years ; and
that one day she will be awakened by a King's son,
for whom she was destined.'

At these words Prince Florimond felt himself
a-fire. He believed, without weighing it, that he
could accomplish this fine adventure ; and, spurred
on by love and ambition, he resolved to explore

16

The Sleeping TSeauty

then and there and discover the truth for him-
self.

Leaping down from his horse he started to run
towards the wood, and had almost reached the edge
of it before the attendant courtiers guessed his
design. They called to him to come back, but he
ran on, and was about to fling himself boldly into
the undergrowth, when as by magic all the great
trees, the shrubs, the creepers, the ivies, briars and
brambles, unlaced themselves of their own accord
and drew aside to let him pass. He found himself
within a long glade or avenue, at the end of which
glimmered the walls of an old castle ; and towards
this he strode. It surprised him somewhat that
none of his attendants were following him ; the
reason being that as soon as he had passed through
it, the undergrowth drew close as ever again. He
heard their voices, fainter and fainter behind him,
beyond the barrier, calling, beseeching him to
desist. But he held on his way without one back-
ward look. He was a Prince, and young, and
therefore valiant.

He came to the castle, and pushing aside the
ivies that hung like a curtain over the gateway,

'7

The Sleeping ^Beauty

entered a wide outer court and stood still for a
moment, holding his breath, while his eyes travelled
over a scene that might well have frozen them with
terror. The court was silent, dreadfully silent ;
yet it was by no means empty. On all hands lay
straight, stiff bodies of men and beasts, seemingly
all dead. Nevertheless, as he continued to gaze, his
courage returned ; for the pimpled noses and ruddy
faces of the Switzers told him that they were no
worse than asleep ; and their cups, which yet held
a few heeltaps of wine, proved that they had fallen
asleep over a drinking-bout.

He stepped by them and passed across a second
great court paved with marble ; he mounted a
broad flight of marble steps leading to the main
doorway ; he entered a guardroom, just within the
doorway, where the guards stood in rank with
shouldered muskets, every man of them asleep and
snoring his best. He made his way through a
number of rooms filled with ladies and gentlemen,
some standing, others sitting, but all asleep. He
drew aside a heavy purple curtain, and once more
held his breath ; for he was looking into the great
Hall of State where, at a long table, sat and slum-

18

The Sleeping ^Beauty

bered the King with his Council. The Lord
Chancellor slept in the act of dipping pen into
inkpot ; the Archbishop in the act of taking snuff ;
and between the spectacles on the Archbishop's
nose and the spectacles on the Lord Chancellor's
a spider had spun a beautiful web.

frince Florimond tiptoed very carefully past
these august sleepers and, leaving the hall by another
door, came to the foot of the grand staircase. Up
this, too, he went ; wandered along a corridor to
his right, and, stopping by hazard at one of the
many doors, opened it and looked into a bath-room
lined with mirrors and having in its midst, sunk in
the floor, a huge round basin of whitest porcelain
wherein a spring of water bubbled deliciously.
Three steps led down to the bath, and at the head
of them stood a couch, with towels, and court- suit
laid ready, exquisitely embroidered and complete to
the daintiest of lace ruffles and the most delicate of
body linen.

Then the Prince bethought him that he had
ridden far before ever coming to the wood ; and
the mirrors told him that he was also somewhat
travel-stained from his passage through it. So,

19

The Sleeping ^Beauty

having by this time learnt to accept any new
wonder without question, he undressed himself and
took a bath, which he thoroughly enjoyed. Nor
was he altogether astonished, when he tried on the
clothes, to find that they fitted him perfectly. Even
the rosetted shoes of satin might have been made
to his measure.

Having arrayed himself thus hardily, he resumed
his quest along the corridor. The very next door
he tried opened on a chamber all panelled with
white and gold ; and there, on a bed the curtains
of which were drawn wide, he beheld the loveliest
vision he had ever seen : a Princess, seemingly
about seventeen or eighteen years old, and of a
beauty so brilliant that he could not have believed
this world held the like.

But she lay still, so still ! . . . Trince Flori-
mond drew near, trembling and wondering, and
sank on his knees beside her. Still she lay, scarcely
seeming to breathe, and he bent and touched with
his lips the little hand that rested, light as a rose-
leaf, on the coverlet. . . .

With that, as the long spell of her enchantment
came to an end, the ^Princess awaked ; and looking

20

The Sleeping "Beauty

at him with eyes more tender than a first sight of
him might seem to excuse : —

c Is it you, my Trince ? ' she said. c You have
been a long while coming ! '

The cPr^?^ce, charmed by these words, and still
more by the manner in which they were spoken,
knew not how to find words for the bliss in his
heart. He assured her that he loved her better
than his own self. Their speech after this was not
very coherent ; they gazed at one another for longer
stretches than they talked ; but if eloquence lacked,
there was plenty of love. He, to be sure, showed
the more embarrassment ; and no need to wonder
at this — she had had time to think over what to
say to him ; for I hold it not unlikely (though
the story does not say anything of this) that the
good Fairy Hippolyta had taken care to amuse
her, during her long sleep, with some pleasurable
dreams. In short, the Trincess ^Aurora and the
Trince Florimond conversed for four hours, and
still without saying the half they had to say.

Meanwhile all the palace had awaked with the
Trincess. In the Council Chamber the King
opened his eyes and requested the Lord Chancellor

21

The Sleeping TSeauty

to read that last sentence of his over again a little
more distinctly. The Lord Chancellor, dipping
his quill into the dry inkpot, asked the Archbishop
in a whisper how many t's there were in c regrettable.'
The Archbishop, taking a pinch of snuff that had
long ago turned to dust, answered with a terrific
sneeze, which again was drowned by the striking of
all the clocks in the palace, as they started frantically
to make up for lost time. Dogs barked, doors
banged ; the Princess's parrot screamed in his cage
and was answered by the peacocks squawking from
the terrace; amid which hubbub the Minister for
Agriculture, forgetting his manners, made a
trumpet of his hands and bawled across the table,
begging His Majesty to adjourn for dinner. In
short, every one's first thought was of his own
business; and, as they were not all in love, they
were ready to die with hunger.

Even the ^ueen^ who had dropped asleep while
discussing with her maids-of-honour the shade of
mourning which most properly expressed regret for
royal personages in a trance, lost her patience at
length, and sent one of her attendants with word
that she, for her part, was keen-set for something to

22

The Sleeping TZeauty

eat, and that in her young days it had been customary
for young ladies released from enchantment to accept
the congratulations of their parents without loss of
time. The ^Prince Florimond, by this message
recalled to his devoirs, helped the Princess to rise.
She was completely dressed, and very magnificently
too.

Taking his beloved 'Princess Aurora by the hand,
he led her to her parents, who embraced her passion-
ately and — their first transports over — turned to
welcome him as a son, being charmed (quite apart
from their gratitude) by the modest gallantry of his
address. They passed into a great dining-room lined
with mirrors, where they supped and were served by
the royal attendants. Violins and hautboys discoursed
music that was ancient indeed, but excellent, and
the meal was scarcely concluded before the company
enjoyed a very pleasant surprise.

^Prince Florimond, having no eyes but for his
love, might be excused if he forgot that his attend-
ants must, long before now, have carried home
their report, and that his parents would be in deep
distress, wondering what had become of him. But
the Kgngi the ^Princess's father, had a truly royal

23

The Sleeping TSeauty

habit of remembering details, especially when
it concerned setting folks at their ease. Before
dinner he had dispatched a messenger to carry
word to Torino e Florimond's father, that his
son was safe, and to acquaint him briefly with
what had befallen. The messenger, riding through
the undergrowth — which now obligingly parted
before him as it had, a while ago, to admit the
Trince- -and arriving at the outskirts of the wood,
found there a search-party vainly endeavouring to
break through the barrier, with the ^Princes aged
father standing by and exhorting them in person,
to whom he delivered his message. Trembling
with relief — for he truly supposed his son to be lost
beyond recall — the old man entreated the messenger
to turn back and escort him. So he arrived, and
was ushered into the hall.

The situation, to be sure, was delicate. But
when these two kings, both so well meaning, had
met and exchanged courtesies, and the one had
raised the other by the hand to a place on the dais
beside him, already and without speech they had
almost accorded.

c I am an old man,' said the Trinces father ; c I

24

The Sleeping ^Beauty

have reigned long enough for my satisfaction, and
now care for little in life but to see my son happy.'

c I think I can promise you that,' said the
^Princess's father, smiling, with a glance at the two
lovers.

c I am old enough, at any rate, to have done
with ambitions,' said the one.

c And I,' said the other, c have dreamed long
enough, at any rate, to despise them. What matters
ruling to either of us two, while we see your son
and my daughter reigning together?3

So it was agreed, then and there; and after
supper, without loss of time, the Archbishop married
the Prince Florimond and the ^Princess ^Aurora in
the chapel of the Castle. The two Kings and the
'Princess's mother saw them to their chamber, and
the first maid-of-honour drew the curtain. They
slept little — the 'Princess had no occasion ; but the
Prince next morning led his bride back to the city,
where they were acclaimed by the populace and
lived happy ever after, reigning in prosperity and
honour.

The Sleeping TZeauty

MORAL

Te Maids, to await some while a lover fond,

Rich, titled, debonair as Florimond,

Is reason ; and who learns on fate to attend

Goes seldom unrewarded in the end —

c What! No one kiss us for a hundred years ! '

There, la-la-la ! I understood, my dears.

ANOTHER

Further, the story would suggest a doubt
That marriage may be happiest when deferred —
' Deferred? ' you cry — c Deferred,1 I see you pout,
— We '// skip this moral, and attempt a third.

ANOTHER

Thirdly, our able then appears to prove

Disparity of years no bar to /ove.

Grabtfd Age and Youth — But that *s an ancient quarrel,

And I'll not interfere. There Js no third moral.

BLUE BEARD

TN the East, in a city not far from Baghdad, there
-^ lived a man who had many possessions and
might have been envied by all who knew him had
these possessions been less by one. He had fine
houses in town and country, retinues of servants,
gold and silver plate in abundance, coffers heaped
with jewels, costly carpets, embroidered furniture,
cabinets full of curiosities, gilded coaches, teams of
Arab horses of the purest breed. But unluckily he
had also a blue beard, which made him so fright-
fully ugly that every woman wanted to scream and
run away at sight of him.

Among his neighbours was a lady of quality,

27

T3lue TSeard

who had two sons and two daughters. Upon these
two damsels ISlue TSeard cast his affections, without
knowing precisely which he preferred ; and asked
the lady to bestow the hand of one of her daughters
upon him, adding, not too tactfully, that he would
leave the choice to her. Neither *Anne nor Fatima
was eager for the honour. They sent their suitor
to and fro, and back again from one to the other :
they really could not make up their minds to accept
a husband with a blue beard. It increased their
repugnance (for they were somewhat romantic
young ladies) to learn that he had already married
several wives ; and, moreover, nobody could tell
what had become of them, which again was not
reassuring.

Itlue TSeard, to make their better acquaintance,
invited them, with their mother and brothers and a
dozen or so of their youthful friends, to divert
themselves at one of his country houses, where they
spent a whole fortnight, and (as they confessed) in
the most agreeable pastimes. Each day brought
some fresh entertainment : they hunted, they
hawked, they practised archery, they angled for
gold-fish, or were rowed to the sound of music on

28

'Blue 'Beard

the waters of their host's private canal, they picnicked
in the ruined castles, of which he owned quite a
number. Each day concluded, too, with banquet-
ing, dancing, card-parties, theatricals ; or would
have concluded, had these young people felt any
disposition to go to bed. They preferred, however,
to sit up until morning, joking and teasing one
another. 'Blue TSeard, who had arrived at middle
age, would have been grateful for a little more sleep
than they allowed him, but showed himself highly
complaisant and smiled at their pranks even when —
their awe of him having worn off- -they balanced a
basin of water above his chamber door, to fall on
his head and douch him, or sewed up his night-
garments, or stuffed his bolster with the prickly
cactus (an Eastern vegetable, of which he possessed
whole avenues) ; nay, even when, for the same
mischievous purpose, they despoiled his garden of
an aloe which was due to blossom in a few days'
time, after having remained flowerless for a century,
he betrayed no chagrin but merely raised the wages
of his head-gardener, heart-broken over the loss of
a plant so economical in giving pleasure. In short
all went so smoothly that the younger daughter

E 29

TSlue TZeard

began to find their host's beard not so blue after
all.

She confided this to her mother. ' Dear mother,'
she said, ' it is doubtless nothing more than my
fancy, but his beard does seem to me to have altered
in colour during the last ten days — a very little, of

course.1

' Then you, too, have observed it ! ' the lady
interrupted delightedly. c My dearest child, you
cannot imagine how your words relieve me ! For
a week past I have accused my eyesight of failing
me, and myself of growing old.'

c Then you really think there is a change ? '
asked Fatima^ at once doubtful and hoping.

c Indeed, yes. Ask yourself if it be reasonable
to suppose that our eyes are playing a trick on
both of us ? Not,' her mother went on, ' that I,
for my part, have any prejudice against blue. On
the contrary, it is a beautiful colour, and considered
lucky. The poets — you will have remarked — when
they would figure to us the highest attainable
happiness, select a blue flower or a blue bird for its
emblem. Heaven itself is blue ; and, at the least, a
blue beard must be allowed to confer distinction.'

3°

TSlue T&eard

c A greyish-blue,' hazarded Fatima.

' A bluish-grey, rather,' her mother corrected
her : £ that is, if I must define the shade as it
appears to me.'

c And,' still hesitated Fatima^ c since it has
begun to change, there seems no reason why it
should not continue to do so.'

' My darling ' — her mother kissed her — ' that
is precisely the point ! Its colour is changing,
you say. But for what reason ? Obviously because
he is in love ; and what love has begun, love can
carry to a conclusion. Nay, but put it on the
ground of pity alone. Could a feeling heart set
itself any task more angelic than to rescue so
worthy a gentleman from so hideous an afflic-
tion— if affliction it be, which I am far from
allowing ? '

Fatima reflected on her mother's advice, but
thought it prudent to consult her sister *Anne and
her step-brothers before coming to a decision which,
once taken, must be irrevocable.

They listened to her very good-naturedly ;
though, to tell the truth, all three were somewhat
jaded, having sat up all night at the card-tables,

31

'Blue TSeard

playing at ombre, quadrille, lasquenet, and Heaven
knows what other games.

< My dear FatimaJ said her sister -^nne with a
little yawn, ' I congratulate you with all my heart
on having made a discovery which, beyond a doubt
and but for your better diligence, I should have had
to make for myself before long.'

As for her step-brothers, they were in the best
of humours at having won a considerable sum of
money from their host by superior play ; and they
answered her, quoting a proverb, that ' at nights all
cats are grey, and all beards too,' and seemed to
consider this very much to the point.

Fatima was greatly relieved by these assurances.
On the evening before the company dispersed TSlue
Heard again sought a private interview and pressed
his suit. She accepted him without further ado,
and as soon as they returned to town the marriage
was concluded.

They had been married little more than a
month when TSlue Heard came to his wife one
morning, and told her that letters of importance had
arrived for him: he must take a journey into the

32

TSlue TSeard

country and be away six weeks at least on a matter
of business. He desired her to divert herself in his
absence by sending for her friends, to carry them oft
to the country if she pleased, and to make good
cheer wherever she was.

c Here,' said he, c are the keys of the two great
store-chambers where I keep my spare furniture;
these open the strong-rooms of my gold and silver
plate which is only used on state occasions ; these
unlock my chests of money, both gold and silver ;
these, my jewel coffers ; and this is the master-key
to all my apartments. But this little one, here, is
the key of the closet at the end of the great gallery
on the ground floor. Open all the others ; go
where you will. But into that little closet I forbid
you to go ; and I forbid it so strongly that if you
should disobey me and open it, there is nothing you
may not expect from my displeasure.'

Fatima promised to obey all his orders exactly ;
whereupon he embraced her, got into his coach,
and was driven off.

Her good friends and neighbours scarcely waited
for the young bride's invitation, so impatient were
they to view all the riches of her grand house, having

33

TSlue TSeard

never dared to come while her husband was at
home, because of his terrifying blue beard. They
overran the house without loss of time, hunting
their curiosity from room to room, along the
corridors and in and out of closets and wardrobes,
cabinets and presses ; opening cupboards, ferreting
in drawers, and still exclaiming over their contents
as each new discovery proved more wonderful than
the last. They roamed through the bedrooms and
spent a long while in the two great store-chambers,
where they could not sufficiently admire the number
and beauty of the tapestries, beds, sofas, consoles,
stands, tables, but particularly the looking-glasses,
in which you could see yourself from head to foot,
with their frames of glass and silver and silver-gilt,
the finest and costliest ever seen. They ceased not
to extol and to envy their friend's good fortune.

( If my husband could only give me such a
house as this,' said one to another, c for aught I
cared he might have a beard of all the colours of
the rainbow ! :

Fatima^ meanwhile, was not in the least amused
by the sight of all these riches, being consumed by
a curiosity even more ardent than that of her

34

TZlue T^eard

friends. Indeed, she could scarcely contain herself
and listen to their chatter, so impatient she felt to
go and open the closet downstairs. If only TSlue
TSeard had not forbidden this one little thing ! Or

o

if, having reasons of his own to keep it secret, he had
been content to take the key away with him, saying
nothing about it ! At least, if he wished to prove
whether or not poor Fatima could rise above the
common frailty of her sex — and he was, as we shall
see, a somewhat exacting husband- -he should have
warned her. As it was, her curiosity grew and
possessed her until at length, without even consider-
ing how uncivil it was to leave her guests, she
escaped from them and ran down a little back stair-
case, in such haste that twice or thrice she tripped
over her gown and came near breaking her neck.

When she reached the door of the closet she

hesitated for a moment or so, thinking upon her

husband's command, and considering what ill might

befall her if she disobeyed it. While he uttered it

his look had been extremely stern, and a blue beard

-for after a month of married life she could no

longer disguise from herself that it was still blue, or

at any rate changing colour less rapidly than she or

F 35

'Blue "Beard

her mother had promised themselves- -might be-
token a harsh temper. On the other hand, and
though she continued to find it repulsive, he had
hitherto proved himself a kind, even an indulgent
husband, and for the life of her she could not
imagine there was anything unpardonable in open-
ing so small a chamber. The temptation, in short,
was too strong for her to overcome. She took the
little key and, trembling, opened the door.

At first, shading her eyes and peering in, she
could see nothing, because the window-shutters were
closed. But after some moments she began to per-
ceive that the light, falling through the shutters,
took a reddish tinge as it touched the floor. So red
it was — or rather, red-purple — that for a moment
or two she supposed the closet to be paved with
porphyry of that colour. Still, as she stared, and
her eyes by degrees grew accustomed to the gloom,
she saw — and moment by moment the truth crept
upon her and froze her- -that the floor was all
covered with clotted blood. In the dull shine of it
something horrible was reflected. . . . With an
effort she lifted her eyes to the wall facing her, and
there, in a row, on seven iron clamps, hung the

36

TZlue TZeard

bodies of seven dead women with their feet dangling
a few inches above the horrible pool in which their
blood had mingled. . . . Little doubt but these
were the wives whom T^tue TSeard had married and
whose throats he had cut, one after another !

Poor Fati ma thought to die of fear, and the key,
which she had pulled from the lock, fell from her
hand. When she had regained her senses a little,
she picked it up and locked the door again ; but her
hand shook so that this was no easy feat, and she
tottered upstairs to recover herself in her own room.
But she found it filled with her officious friends,
who, being occupied with envy of her riches and
having no reason to guess that, in a husband's
absence, anything could afflict so fortunate a wife,
either honestly ignored her pallor or hoped (while
promising to come again) that they had not over-
tired her bv their visit.
j

They promised, too, to repeat their call very
soon, at the same time inquiring how long her
husband's journey might be expected to last. It
was plain that they feared him, one and all. Half
an hour ago she might have wondered at this.

They were gone at last. Fatima, drawing the

37

"Blue 'Beard

key from her pocket, now to her horror observed a
dull smear upon it, and remembered that it had fallen
at her feet on the edge of the pool of blood in the
closet. She wiped it; she rubbed it on the sleeve
of her robe ; but the blood would not come off.
In a sudden terror she ran to her dressing-room,
poured out water, and began to soap the key. But
in vain did she wash it, and even scrape it with a
knife and scrub it with sand and pumice-stone.
The blood still remained, for the key was a magic
key, and there was no means of making it quite
clean ; as fast as the blood was scoured off one side
it came again on the other.

She was still scouring and polishing, when a
horn sounded not very far away. In her flurry she
paid little heed to this, or to the rumble of wheels
she heard approaching. Frightened though she
was, she supposed that she had still almost six weeks
in which to restore by some means the key to its
brightness. But when the wheels rolled up to the
porchway and came to a stop, and when the horn,
sounding again, blew her husband's flourish, then
indeed the poor lady's knees knocked together and
almost sank beneath her. Hiding the key in the

38

TSlue TZeard

bosom of her bodice, she tottered forth to the head
of the stairs, to behold TSlue ^Eeard himself standing
beneath the lamp in the hall below.

He caught sight of her as she leaned over, cling-
ing to the balustrade ; and called up cheerfully that
he had received letters on the road with news that
his journey was after all unnecessary — the business
he went about had been settled, and to his advan-
tage. Still shaking in every limb, Fatima crept
downstairs to give him greeting. She ordered
supper to be prepared in haste ; and while he ate,
forced herself to ask a hundred questions concerning
his adventures. In short she did all she could to
give him proof that she was delighted at his speedy
return.

Next morning, having summoned her to attend
him on the terrace, he asked her to render back the
keys ; which she gave him, but with such a
trembling hand that he easily guessed what had
happened.

4 How is this ?' said he. c Why is not the key
of my closet among the rest ?'

c I must have left it upstairs on my table,' said
Fatima.

39

TSlue

c Fetch it to me at once/ said 'Blue 'Beard. c At
once, and without fail.'

She went, and after a while returned, protesting
that she could not find it.

c Go back and seek again,' commanded 'Blue
TSeard, dangerously calm.

After going backwards and forwards several times,
she could pretend no longer, but brought him the key.
'Blue 'Beard examined it closely, and demanded —

' How came this blood upon the key ? '

' I do not know,' answered poor Fatima, paler
than death.

c You do not know ! ' cried 'Blue 'Beard in a
terrible voice. ' But I know well enough. You
have chosen to enter that closet. Mighty well,
madam ; since that poor room of mine so appeals
to your fancy, your whim shall not be denied.
You shall go in, and take your place among the
ladies you saw there ! '

Fatima flung herself at her husband's feet, and
wept and begged his pardon with every sign of
truly repenting her disobedience. She would have
melted a rock, so beautiful and sorrowful she was ;
but 'Blue 'Beard had a heart harder than anv rock.

j
40

TZeard

< You must die, madam,' said he, c and that
presently.'

' Since I must die,' she answered, looking up at
him with eyes all bathed in tears, ( grant me a little
time to say my prayers.'

c I grant you,' replied Ittue TSeard^ * ten minutes,
and not a second more.'

As she went from him, and through the house
towards her own apartment, at the foot of the great
staircase she met with her sister *Anne^ who (un-
aware of 'Blue 'Beard's return) had just arrived to
pay her a visit.

' Ah, dear sister ! ' cried Fatima, embracing
her. < But tell me, oh, and for Heaven's sake,
quickly ! where are my brothers Selim and Hassan,
who promised to come with you ? ''

( They are at home,' said <Anne. ( They were
detained at parade, and I have come ahead of
them. I could wait for them no longer in my
impatience to see you ; but just as I was starting
they arrived back from the parade-ground, and
sent word that they will follow as soon as they
have groomed their horses, and spend a happy day

with you.'

G 41

IZlue TSeard

£ Alas ! ' sobbed Fatima^ £ they will never see
me alive in this world ! '

£ But what has happened ? ' asked her sister,
amazed.

c He — TSlue TSeard- -has returned. . . . Yes,
and in a few minutes he has promised to kill me.
But ah ! ask me no questions — there is so little
time left. Dear sister, if you love me, run upstairs
and still up to the top of the tower, look if my
brothers are not coming, and if you see them, give
them a signal to make haste ! '

Her sister *Anne left her and ran up, up, to the
roof of the tower ; and from time to time as the
minutes sped, the unhappy Fatima cried up to
her :-

c *Anne, Sister *Anne^ do you see any one coming? '

And Sister <Anne answered her :-

c / see nothing but the noon dust a-bloisoing,
and the green grass a- growing?

By and by ^Blue TSeard^ who had pulled out
his huge sabre, and was trying its edge on the short
turf of the terrace, shouted to her : —

c Wife, your time is up. Come down, and at

once ! '

42

TSlue TZeard

Then, as she made no answer, he shouted again,
and as loudly as he could bawl : ' Come down
quickly, or I will come up to you ! '

c A moment — give me a moment longer ! 3 she
answered, and called softly to her sister : *-<Anne,
Sister *Anne, do you see any one coming ?

And Sister <Anne answered : ^ I see nothing
but the noon dust a-blowing, and the green grass
a-gr owing.'

' Come down quickly,' shouted "Blue 'Beard, ' or
I will come up to you ! '

c I am coming,' answered his wife ; and again
she cried: '^Anne, Sister <Anne, do you see any one
coming ?

c I see,' answered Sister <Anne^ ' yonder a great
cloud of dust coming.'

( Is it my brothers ? '

' Alas ! no, sister. I see a flock of sheep/

( Will you not come down ? ' bawled 'Blue 'Beard.

( Just one moment longer ! ' entreated his wife,
and once more she called out : '-^Anne^ Sister <Anne^
do you see nobody coming ?

( I see,' she answered, ' yonder two Knights
a-riding, but they are yet a great way off. . . . God

43

TZlue TSeard

be praised,' she cried a moment after, c they are our
brothers ! I am waving my handkerchief to them
to hasten.'

Then 'Blue 'Beard stamped his foot and roared
out so terribly that he made the whole house
tremble. The poor lady came down and, casting
herself, all in tears and dishevelled, at his feet,
clasped him by the ankles while she besought him
for mercy.

c This shall not help you,' said 'Blue 'Beard.
' You must die ! ' Then, taking hold of her hair
and twisting her head back, the better to expose her
beautiful throat, he exclaimed : c This be the lesson
I read against curiosity, the peculiar vice of woman-
kind, and which above all others I find detestable.
To that most fatal habit all the best accredited
religions, in whatever else they may differ, unite in
attributing the first cause of all misfortunes to which
the race is subject. . . .' In this strain he con-
tinued for fully three minutes, still grasping her hair
with one hand while with the other he flourished
his sabre.

As he ceased, poor Fatima looked up at
him with dying eyes. c Ah, sir ! ' she besought

44

nsz + fre -made +rm ^n&Je fto

«

i

"Beard

him, c if this curiosity be, as you remind me, my
worst sin, you will not be so cruel as to destroy me
before I have confessed and asked pardon for it.
Grant me, then, just one moment more to fix my
thoughts on devotion ! '

' No, no,' was his answer ; c recommend thyself
to Heaven ' ; and he swung up his sabre to strike.

At that very instant there sounded so loud a
knocking at the gate that he came to a sudden stop.
His arm dropped as the gate flew open and two
cavaliers ran in with drawn swords and rushed upon
him. Loosing his hold upon Fatima, who sank
fainting upon the grass, he ran to save himself, but
the two brothers were so hot on his heels that, after
pursuing him through the vineries and the orange-
house, they overtook him just as he reached the
steps of the main porch. There they ran their
swords through his body, and, after making sure
that he was dead, returned to their sister, who
opened her eyes, indeed, as they bent over her, but
had not strength enough to rise and embrace them.

'Blue 'Beard had no heirs, and so his wife became
mistress of all his estates. She employed a part of

45

TSlue TZeard

her wealth to marry her sister <Anne to a young
gentleman who had loved her a long while ;
another part to purchase captains' commissions for
her two step-brothers ; and the rest to marry her-
self to a very worthy gentleman who made her
forget the short but unhappy time she had passed
with "Blue "Beard.

MORAL

(For Curious Wives)

Wives should have one lord only. Some have reckon d
In Curiosity /' enjoy a second.
But Scripture says we may not serve two masters^
And little keys have opened large disasters.

ANOTHER

(For Chastising or Correcting Husbands)

The very best sermon that ever was preach* d
Was a thought less effective the longer it reached.

CINDERELLA

OR THE LITTLE GLASS SLIPPER

upon a time there lived a gentleman who
married twice. His second wife was a widow
with two grown-up daughters, both somewhat past
their prime, and this woman would have been the
proudest and most overbearing in the world had not
her daughters exactly resembled her with their fine
airs and insolent tempers. The husband, too, had
by his first wife a child of his own, a young
daughter, and so good and so gentle that she
promised to grow up into the living image of her
dead mother, who had been the most lovable of

women.

H

47

(Cinderella

The wedding festivities were no sooner over
than the stepmother began to show herself in her
true colours. She could not endure the girl's good
qualities, which by contrast rendered her own
daughters the more odious. She put her to drudge
at the meanest household work, and thus she and
her precious darlings not only wreaked their spite
but saved money to buy themselves dresses and
finery. It was the child who scoured the pots and
pans, scrubbed the floors, washed down the stairs,
polished the tables, ironed the linen, darned the
stockings, and made the beds. She herself slept at
the top of the house in a garret, upon a wretched
straw mattress, while her sisters had apartments of
their own with inlaid floors, beds carved and gilded
in the latest fashion, and mirrors in which they
could see themselves from head to foot.

Yet they were so helpless, or rather they
thought it so menial to do anything for themselves,
that had they but a ribbon to tie, or a bow to adjust,
or a bodice to be laced, the child must be sent for.
When she came it was odds that they met her with a
storm of abuse, in this fashion :-

' What do you mean, pray, by answering the

48

(Cinderella

bell in this state? Stand before the glass and
look at yourself! Look at your hands- -faugh !
How can you suppose we should allow you to touch
a ribbon, or even come near us, with such hands?
Run downstairs, slut, and put yourself under the
kitchen pump ' -and so on.

c How can I help it ? ' thought the poor little
drudge. c If I do not run at once when the bell
rings, they scold me for that. Yet they ring — both
of them together sometimes — a minute after setting
me to rake out a grate and sift the ashes. As for
looking at myself in the glass, gladly would I do it
if they allowed me one. But they have told me
that if I had a glass I should only waste time in
front of it.'

She kept these thoughts to herself, however, and
suffered her ill-usage patiently, not daring to com-
plain to her father, who would, moreover, have
joined with the others in chiding her, for he was
wholly under his wife's thumb ; and she had enough
of chiding already. When she had done her work she
used to creep away to the chimney-corner and seat
herself among the cinders, and from this the house-
hold name for her came to be Cinder-slut ; but the

49

(Cinderella

younger sister, who was not so ill-tempered as the
elder, called her Cinderella. They were wise in
their way to deprive her of a looking-glass ; for in
truth, and in spite of her sorry rags, Cinderella was
a hundred times more beautiful than they with all
their magnificent dresses.

It happened that the King's son gave a ball, and
sent invitations through the kingdom to every
person of quality. Our two misses were invited
among the rest, for they cut a great figure in that
part of the country. Mightily pleased they were to
be sure with their cards of invitation, all printed in
gold and stamped with the broad red seal of the
Heir Apparent ; and mightily busy they were, dis-
cussing what gowns and head-dresses would best
become them. This meant more worry for
Cinderella, for it was she who ironed her sisters'
linen, goffered their tucks and frills, pleated their
wristbands, pressed their trimmings of old lace and
wrapped them away in tissue paper. A score of
times all this lace, piece by piece, had to be un-
wrapped, inspected, put away again ; and after a
trying-on, all the linen had to be ironed, goffered,

5°

?d +o creep eOvay £o

o -^

and S"eti£ ner'S'eJr ajn&rigr £

CS &

- s

HLC>

ey

(Cinderella

crimped, or pleated afresh for them. They could
talk of nothing but their ball dresses.

c For my part,' said the elder, ' I shall wear a
velvet cramoisie trimmed a l**Anglaise ' -for she had
a passion for cramoisie, and could not perceive how
ill the colour went with her complexion. c I had
thought of cloth-of-gold, but there 's the cost of
the underskirt to be considered ; and underskirts
seem to grow dearer and dearer in these days.
What a relief,' she went on, ' it must be to have
money and not be forced to set one thing against
another ! '

c I,' said the younger, c must make shift with my
old underskirt ; that is, unless I can wheedle some
money out of Papa ' — for so, in their affection, they
called their stepfather. ' Cinderella can take out
the worst stains to-morrow with a little eau-de-
Cologne. I believe that, if she tries, she can make
it look as good as new; and, at all events, it will
give her something to do instead of wasting an
afternoon. I don't pretend that I like wearing an
old underskirt, and I hope to make dear Papa
sensible of this ; but against it I shall have the
gold-flowered robe, on which I am determined,

Cinderella

and my diamond stomacher, which is somewhat
better than the common.'

c And I, of course,' said the elder, c must wear
my diamond spray. If only it had a ruby in the
clasp instead of a sapphire ! Rubies go so much
better with cramoisie. ... I suppose there is no
time now to ask the jeweller to re-set it with
a ruby.'

' But you don't possess a ruby, dear,' murmured
her sister, who did possess one, and had no intention
of lending it. ' And, besides, sapphires suit you so
much better ! '

They sent for the best milliner they could find,
to build their mob-caps in triple tiers ; and for the
best hairdresser to arrange their hair ; and their
patches were supplied by the shop to which all the
Quality went. From time to time they called up
Cinderella to ask her advice, for she had excellent
taste. Cinderella advised them perfectly, and even
offered her services to dress their hair for them on
the night of the ball. They accepted gladly enough.

Whilst she was dressing them one asked her :
c Cinderella^ would you not like to be going to the
ball?5

52

(Cinderella

( Alas ! miss,' said Cinderella^ ( you are making
fun of me. It is not for the like of me to be there.'

'You are right, girl. Folks would laugh indeed
to see Cinder-slut at a ball ! '

Any one but Cinderella would have pinned on
their mob-caps awry ; and if you or I had been in her
place, I won't swear but that we might have pushed
in the pins just a trifle carelessly. But she had no
malice in her nature ; she attired them to perfection,
though they found fault with her all the while it
was doing, and quite forgot to thank her when it
was done. Let it be related, in excuse for their
tempers, that they had passed almost two days
without eating, so eager were they and excited.
The most of this time they had spent in front of
their mirrors, where they had broken more than a
dozen laces in trying to squeeze their waists and
make them appear more slender. They were
dressed a full two hours before the time fixed for
starting. But at length the coach arrived at the
door. They were tucked into it with a hundred
precautions, and Cinderella followed it with her
eyes as long as she could ; that is to say, until the
tears rose and blinded them.
i 53

(Cinderella

She turned away weeping, back to the house,
and crept into her dear chimney-corner; where,
being all alone in the kitchen, she could indulge
her misery.

A long while she sat there. Suddenly, between
two heavy sobs she looked up, her eyes attracted by
a strange blue glow on the far side of the hearth :
and there stood the queerest lady, who must have
entered somehow without knocking.

Her powdered hair was dressed all about her head
in the prettiest of short curls, amid which the most
exquisite jewels — diamonds, and rubies, and emeralds
— sparkled against the firelight. Her dress had
wide panniers bulging over a skirt of lace flounces,
billowy and delicate as sea-foam, and a stiff bodice,
shaped to the narrowest waist imaginable. Jewels
flashed all over this dress — or at least Cinderella sup-
posed them to be jewels, though, on second thoughts,
they might be fireflies, butterflies, glowworms.
They seemed at any rate to be alive, and to dart
from one point to another of her attire. Lastly,
this strange lady held in her right hand a short
wand, on the end of which trembled a pale bluish-
green flame ; and it was this which had first

54

(Cinderella

caught Cinderella* eye and caused her to look
up.

c Good evening, child,' said the visitor in a sharp
clear voice, at the same time nodding kindly across
the firelight. c You seem to be in trouble. What
is the matter ?

' I wish,' sobbed Cinderella. ( I wish,' she
began again, and again she choked. This was all
she could say for weeping.

' You wish, dear, that you could go to the ball ;
is it not so ? '

' Ah, yes ! ' said Cinderella with a sigh.

c Well, then,' said the visitor, c be a good girl,
dry your tears, and I think it can be managed. I
am your godmother, you must know, and in younger
days your mother and I were very dear friends.'
She omitted, perhaps purposely, to add that she was
a Fairy ; but Cinderella was soon to discover this
too. cDo you happen to have any pumpkins in the
garden ? her godmother asked.

Cinderella thought this an odd question. She
could not imagine what pumpkins had to do with
going to a ball. But she answered that there were
plenty in the garden — a whole bed of them in fact.

55

(Cinderella

£ Then let us go out and have a look at them.'

They went out into the dark garden to the
pumpkin patch, and her godmother pointed to the
finest of all with her wand.

' Pick that one,' she commanded.

Cinderella picked it, still wondering. Her
godmother opened a fruit knife that had a handle of
mother-of-pearl. With this she scooped out the
inside of the fruit till only the rind was left ; then
she tapped it with her wand, and at once the
pumpkin was changed into a beautiful coach all
covered with gold.

c Next we must have horses,' said her godmother.
' The question is, Have you such a thing as a mouse
trap in the house ? '

Cinderella ran to look into her mouse trap,
where she found six mice all alive. Her godmother,
following, told her to lift the door of the trap a
little way, and as the mice ran out one by one she
gave each a tap with her wand, and each mouse
turned at once into a beautiful horse — which made a
fine team of six horses, of a lovely grey, dappled
with mouse colour.

Now the trouble was to find a coachman.

56

(Cinderella

c I will go and see,' said Cinderella, who had
dried her tears and was beginning to find this
great fun, £ if there isn't such a thing as a rat in
the rat trap. We can make a coachman of him.'

' You are right, dear,' said her godmother ;
* run and look.'

Cinderella fetched her the rat trap. There
were three large rats in it. The Fairy chose one
of the three because of his enormous whiskers, and
at a touch he was changed into a fat coachman.

Next she said : c Go to the end of the garden ;
and there in the corner of the wall behind the
watering-pot, unless I am mistaken, you will find
six lizards. Bring them to me.'

Cinderella had no sooner brought them than
her godmother changed them into six footmen, who
climbed up at once behind the coach with their
bedizened liveries, and clung on as though they had
been doing nothing else all their lives.

The Fairy then said to Cinderella : c Hey now,
child ! This will do to go to the ball with, unless
you are hard to please/

( Indeed, yes,' answered Cinderella. c But how
can I go, as I am, in these horrid clothes ?

57

(Cinderella

( You might have given me credit for thinking of
that too ! ' Her godmother did but touch her with
her wand, and on the instant her rags were trans-
formed into cloth of gold and silver, all bespangled
with precious stones. She felt her hair creeping up
into curls, and tiring and arranging itself in tiers, on
the topmost of which a double ostrich feather grew
from a diamond clasp that caught the rays of the old
lady's wand and shot them about the garden, this way
and that, making the slugs and snails crawl to shelter.

( But the chief mark of a lady,' said her god-
mother, eyeing her with approval, £ is to be well
shod,' and so saying she pulled out a pair of glass
slippers, into which Cinderella poked her toes
doubtfully, for glass is not as a rule an accommodat-
ing material for slippers. You have to be measured
very carefully for it.

But these fitted to perfection : and thus arrayed
from top to toe, Cinderella had nothing more to do
but kiss her godmother, thank her, and step into
the coach, the six horses of which were pawing the
cabbage beds impatiently.

( Good-bye, child ! ' said her godmother. c But
of one thing I must warn you seriously. I have

58

Cinderella

power to send you thus to the ball, but my power
lasts only until midnight. Not an instant beyond
midnight must you stay there. If you over-stay
the stroke of twelve, your coach will become but
a pumpkin again, your horses will change back
into mice, your footmen into lizards, and your
ball dress shrink to the same rags in which I
found you/

Cinderella promised that she would not fail to
take her departure before midnight : and, with that,
the coachman cracked his whip and she was driven
away, beside herself with joy.

In the royal palace, and in the royal gardens,
over which shone the same stars which had looked
down upon Cinderella s pumpkins, the ball was at
its height : with scores and scores of couples dancing
on the waxed floor to the music of the violins ; and
under the trees, where the music throbbed in faint
echoes, other scores of couples moving, passing and
repassing, listening to the plash of the fountains and
inhaling the sweet scent of the flowers.

Now, as the King's son walked among his
guests, word was brought to him by his Chamberlain

59

Cinderella

that a grand Princess, whom nobody knew, had
just arrived and desired admission.

c She will not tell her name/ said the Chamber-
lain ; c but that she is a Princess and of very high
dignity cannot be doubted. Apart from her beauty
and the perfection of her address (of which your
Royal Highness, perhaps, will allow me to be no
mean judge), I may mention that the very jewels in
her hair are worth a whole province.'

The King's son hastened to the gate to receive
the fair stranger, handed her down from the coach,
and led her through the gardens, where the guests
drew apart and gazed in wonder at her loveliness.
Still escorted by him she entered the ball-room,
where at once a great silence fell, the dancing was
broken oft, the violins ceased to play — so taken, so
ravished was everybody by the vision of this un-
known one. Everywhere ran the murmur, ' Ah !
how beautiful she is ! ' The Kjng himself, old as
he was, could not take his eyes off her, and con-
fided to the Ojueen in a low voice that it was long
since he had seen so adorable a creature.

All the ladies were busily studying her head-dress
and her ball gown, that they might order the like

60

(Cinderella

next day for themselves, if only (vain hope !) they
could find materials so exquisite and dressmakers
clever enough.

The King's son took her to the place of honour,
and afterwards led her out to dance. She danced
so gracefully that all admired her yet the more. A
splendid supper was served, but the young Prince ate
nothing of it, so intent was he on gazing upon her.

She went and sat by her sisters, who bridled
with pleasure at the honour. She did them a
thousand civilities, sharing with them the nectarines
and citrons which the T^rince brought her ; and
still not recognising her, they marvelled at this,
being quite unused (as they never deserved) to be
selected for attentions so flattering.

The King's son now claimed her for another
dance. It had scarcely come to an end when
Cinderella heard the clock strike the quarter to
twelve ; whereupon she instantly desired her partner
to lead her to the Ring and H^ueen. c For I must
be going,' she said.

c It is cruel of you to go so early,' he protested.
c But at least you will come again to-morrow and
grant me many dances ? '
K 6 1

(Cinderella

£ Is there to be another ball, then, to-morrow ? '
she asked.

c To-morrow, yes ; and as many morrows as
you wish, if only you will come/

c Ah, if I could ! ' sighed Cinderella to her-
self : for she was young, and it seemed to her that
she could never have enough of such evenings as
this, though they went on for ever and ever.

The Trince led her to the dais where sat the
King and O^ueen. She made a deep reverence
before them, a slighter but no less gracious one to
the company, and withdrew. Although she had
given no orders, her coach stood waiting for her.
Slipping in, she was whisked home in the time it
would take you to wink an eye.

She had scarcely entered the house, however,
before she received a shock. For on the threshold
of the kitchen, glancing down to make sure that her
ball gown was not disarranged by this rapid journey,
she perceived that it had vanished — changed back
to the rags of her daily wear. But there, in the
light of the hearth, stood her godmother, who smiled
so pleasantly that Cinderella choked down her little
cry of disappointment.

62

;tf i ' \ JF ,1

K .. -•*/

; Tff^f-j^l \ V.-.-

'

(Cinderella

c Well, child? And how have you fared? '

c Godmama, I have never been so happy in all
my life ! And it is all thanks to you ! ' But after
thanking her, Cinderella could 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 !

c As to that, child,' said her godmother, c 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? '

Cinderella needed no such invitation ; she was
dying to relate her adventures. She talked and
talked, her godmother still smiling and question-
ing. 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!

Cinderella ran and opened the door to her
sisters. ' What a long time you have stayed,' said
she, yawning, rubbing her eyes, and stretching her-
self as though she had just waked out of sleep.

63

Cinderella

(She had felt, however, no inclination at all to sleep
since their departure !)

c 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/

Cinderella contained 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.
Cinderella smiled. She no longer felt any tempta-
tion at all to be clumsy with the hairpins.

c 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 the Trince begged it,
almost with tears in his eyes. . . . For there is to
be another ball to-morrow, and we are going ! '

c Ah, heavens ! ' sighed Cinderella, how lucky

(Cinderella

you are 1 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 ! '

c Hoity-toity ! :' snapped Miss 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 ! '

Cinderella had 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 was Cinderella, 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, was

65

Cinderella

far 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. The Trince followed,
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 foot-
men had whisked away, and poor Cinderella^
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 that Cinderella s godmother had something
to do with this misadventure too.

66

(Cinderella

At all events when Cinderella opened 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, c it is easily seen that
you have forgotten my warning and have suffered
for it. But what is that you are clutching ? '

Poor Cinderella drew from under her bedraggled
bodice a crystal slipper, fellow to the missing one.
It was the one remnant of all her finery, and some-
how, 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. c 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 of
Cinderella s adornment had been contrived out of
something other than it was, the two glass slippers
had been really produced out of the Fairy's pocket.

L 67

(Cinderella

They alone had not vanished at the stroke of mid-
night. ' But what has become of the other one ? '
her godmother asked.

o

Cinderella did 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 ;
c 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. Cinderella asked 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 the 'Prince
in 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 a

68

(Cinderella

country 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, the Prince was 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 :

69

(Cinderella

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 on Cinder ellds two 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 at Cinderella attentively,
and seeing how good-looking she was, said that it
was but just — he had orders to try it upon every
one.

He asked Cinderella to sit down, and drawing
the slipper upon her little foot, he saw that it went

70

. T '- 1

• —

&&£&,

9,

OLU

e^v ^

(Cinderella

on easily, and fitted the foot like wax. Great was
the astonishment of the two sisters ; but it was
greater when Cinderella pulled 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 upon Cinderella s clothes, made them still
more magnificent than they had been before.

And now her two sisters knew Cinderella to 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. Cinderella raised 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 young T^rince^ 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.

(Cinderella

MORAL

Better than 'wealth or art,
Jewels or a painted face,

It is when a natural heart
Inhabits its natural place
And beats at a natural pace.

ANOTHER

Yet youth that is poor of purse,

No matter how witty or handsome,

Will find its talents no worse

For a godmamma to advance \'tn.

BEAUTY AND THE

BEAST

m

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.
M 73

^Beauty and the "Beast

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 un-
faithful; 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 hearing

74

^Beauty and the Beast

the 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 recovered

75

^Beauty and the TSeast

her 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.
c It is very easy for you to be happy,' the eldest
grumbled. c 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 her 'Beauty — 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 he

76 .

T&eauty and the "Beast

would 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. Only TSeauty would
not ask for anything. Her father, noting her
silence, interrupted the others who still kept adding
to their list of requirements.

c Well, "Beauty 1 he said, c and what shall I
bring home for you ? Surely you, too, wish for
something ? '

( Dear father,' she answered, c 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 : c This small miss is
putting on airs. She thinks, no doubt, she cuts a
figure with her affected fine sentiments ! '

o

Her father, however, was touched by her good
feeling. Nevertheless he told her to choose some-
thing— c For,' said he, c at your age it is only
natural to like dresses and pretty presents.'

77

'Beauty and the 'Beast

c Well, dear father,' said she, c 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 way TSeauty contrived 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.

78

^Beauty and the T3east

As he pushed on through the forest, night over-
took 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 represent-
ing scenes of war, but all coloured like real life.

79

^Beauty and the 1>east

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. Drawing-
rooms, bedchambers, galleries — all stood un-
locked. ... 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,

80

N

^Beauty and the TSeast

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 oppor-
tunity of thanking him. Still no one appeared j
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 un-
known 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 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 himself

81

TSeauty and the "Beast

what 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.

c Surely,' he told himself, c 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 to 'Beauty. 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 hideous
TSeast who was overtaking him and reaching out
towards him.

c Who gave you leave to pluck my roses ? '
roared this monster. c 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 un-
punished ! '

82

T^eauty and the

The good merchant, terrified no less by the
sight of this TSeast than by his threats, let drop the
rose and flung himself on his knees.

c 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 the leasts
wrath. c Hold your tongue, sir,' he commanded,
' if you can offer me nothing but flatteries and
false titles. I am not " my lord." I am the 'Beast ;
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 name beauty. Then, in hope
either to delay the least's vengeance or to touch
his compassion, he launched into the tale of all his
misfortunes, and of his reasons for the journey,
not forgetting to mention TSeauty again and her
request.

The TSeast considered for a moment before
answering him in a somewhat milder tone : f I will
forgive you ; but only on condition that you give

83

^Beauty and the Beast

me one of your daughters. Some one must make
amends for this trespass.'

4 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 ? '

c No excuse is necessary,' replied the ^Beast
shortly. c 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 the Beast informed him that he could
not go until next day.

1 Then,' said he, c at daybreak you will find a
horse ready for you who will carry you home in less

TSeauty and the TSeast

than 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 the TSeast might 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
the TSeast was coming. Since he could not escape,
he mustered what courage he could to conceal his
terror, and faced about to the doorway.

c Have you made a good supper ?' was the
least's first 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 the TSeast, c 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 no

TSeauty and the "Seast

retreat, 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.

The "Beast appeared to be content at length.
c Retire to bed now,' he commanded, c 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 daughter TSeauty
— 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.

86

TSeauty and the "Beast

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 dis-
mounted told them another story.

His first motion then was to pluck the fatal rose

o 87

TSeauty and the TSeast

from the pommel and hand it to Beauty, saying :
c 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. c 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 care
^Beauty should have her present, no matter at what
cost to us ! '

c It is all too true,' answered their father sorrow-
fully, £ 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 this

TZeauty and the TSeast

accursed castle — they would march thither in a
body and destroy the horrible Iteast who owned it.
But their father assured them that he had given his
word and would rather die than break it.

Thereat the sisters turned upon ^Beauty and
started to upbraid and rail against her.

c 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 ! '

Poor TSeauty controlled 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 in

89

TSeauty and the TSeast

a 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 be TSeauty ; if another of his daughters
(they hinted) had offered to pay this price for his life,
he would have accepted it cheerfully enough !

TSeauty closed this talk by saying firmly that,
whether they wished it or not, she would go—
c And who knows,' said she, forcing a brave smile,
c 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 that beauty must 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 posses-

90

TZeauty and the Beast

sions with 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
the Iteast^ arrived at the door of the cottage.

The brothers would have rushed out and slain
the beautiful animal ; but TSeauty, 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 that TSeauty could
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. But ^Beauty did 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,

91

T&eauty and the

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. TSeauty slipped 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, and
TSeauty fell-to with a good appetite. Her spirits
indeed were rising. There had been no sign of any
TSeast in 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 the TSeast
was heard coming through the distant rooms. At
the sound — the heavy padding of his feet, the roar

92

T^eauty and the TSeast

of his breath — TSeauty clung to her father in terror,
and had almost fainted against the arm which he
flung around her. But when the TZeast stood 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 the *Beast. 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) : —

c Good evening, my good sir ! Good evening,
^Beauty \ '

The merchant was too far terrified to find his
voice ; but beauty controlled hers and answered
sweetly :-

c Good evening, TSeast \ '

c Have you come here of your own free will ? '
asked the 'Beast. £ And are you willing to let your
father return and leave you here ? '

'Beauty answered that she was quite willing.

( Indeed ? And yet what do you suppose will
happen to you after he has gone ? '

c Sir,' said 'Beauty^ ' that is as it pleases you, and
you only can tell.'

P 93

^Beauty and the T^east

c Well answered,' replied the TSeast ; c 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 to TSeauty, 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 travel-
ling 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, TSeauty made ready
to obey the 'Beast's orders, and he left them as he
had come, saying :-

c Good night, TSeauty \ Good night, good sir ! '
When they were alone, TSeauty and 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, TSeauty

94

TSeauty and the T3east

opened 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.

c I think, father,' she said, c 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.

95

^Beauty and the TZeast

But now the trunks were so heavy that an elephant
would have sunk under them.

c It is all a cheat ! ' cried the merchant. The
'Beast is mocking us, and only pretended to give
us these things, knowing that I could not carry
them away.'

c Wait a little,' advised ^Beauty. c That would
be a sorry jest, and I cannot help thinking that the
'Beast is 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 break-
fast 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 break-
ing ; 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, the

96

TZeauty and the TZeast

other saddled for the merchant to ride. And now
^Beauty and 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

o

scarcely turn to say good-bye before both horses
sprang away swift as the wind and he was lost to
sight in an instant.

Poor TZeauty \ She gazed and gazed through
her tears, and so mounted the stairs sorrowfully back
to her own chamber. On reaching it she felt her-
self 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.

97

T^eauty and the T^east

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 young Prince stood 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. < Dear ^Beauty^ he said, c 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 con-
temptible. 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 ? 5
she asked earnestly.

c Only be grateful,' he answered, ' and do not

^Beauty and the T&east

believe 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.

' Dear TSeauty^ she said, c 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.'

TSeauty found 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, there-
fore, 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 are

TSeauty and the "Beast

all by yourself. ^Beauty, when she had eaten enough,
sat down on a sofa and began to think of the hand-
some youth she had seen in her dream. ' He told
me I could make him happy. Why, then, it must
be that the horrible TSeast^ 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

100

^Beauty and the "Seasf

-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 ex-

O '

plore further. She passed into a long picture
gallery, and there again she met the Prince's face.
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. TSeauty
was 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 ;
and beauty ', 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 thousands

Q ioi

^Beauty and the TZeast

of 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 time ^Beauty found 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

o

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 the TSeast approaching. 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.

c Good evening, TSeautyJ he said gruffly.

c Good evening, TZeast^ she answered gently,
but shaking a little.

c Do you think you can be content here ? ' he
asked.

TSeauty answered politely that it ought not to
be hard to live happily in such a beautiful palace.

IO2

^Beauty and the 'Beast

After this they talked for an hour, and in the

j '

course of their talk "Beauty began to excuse many
things in the "Beast- -\i\s 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 :-

c Will you be my wife, "Beauty ? :

( Ah ! I am lost ! ' thought "Beauty. The "Beast
could 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 '

ff 5

or no.

< Oh ! no, "Beast."

' Very well, then,' said this tractable monster.
( Since you will not, I had best be going. Good
night, "Beauty"

c Good night, "Beast^ answered "Beauty, 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.

103

^Beauty and the 'Beast

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.

c Dear 'Beauty* 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.

104

^Beauty and the *Beasf

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 unknown
Prince standing 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 im-
prisoned here, and resolved to get at the truth
that very evening, should the ISeast repeat 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 tor embroidery,
scissors, and thimbles. Beyond this needlework

room a door opened upon the most wonderful

105

^Beauty and the TZeast

sight of all- -an aviary full of the rarest birds, yet
all so tame that they flew to "Beauty ', 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 saw ^Beauty than they began to scream and
chatter ; one wishing her ( Good morning,' another
inviting her to luncheon, while a third yet more
gallant cried c 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. Here

1 06

T^eauty and the "Beast

were 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 which TSeauty
found highly diverting ; and yet she could not
help sighing that none of these animals were able
to tell her news of her unknown T^rince 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 v/aiting
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
escort ^Beauty marched back to luncheon, and
while she ate it the birds piped and fluted around
her for accompaniment to the parrots, who lifted

107

^Beauty and the

up 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 inter-
preter— thanked ^Beauty for the indulgence she had
shown to their poor efforts.

That night again, after supper, the 'Beast paid
her his accustomed visit. He put the same ques-
tions, and received her answers as before ; and, as
before, the conversation ended by his taking leave
of her with a c 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 still

108

TZeauty and the 1>east

^Beauty found 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, and ^Beauty
in ecstasy with every scene of it. When the
curtain fell she still lingered in her box, hoping to
see the fashionable crowd disperse ; but somewhat

R 109

^Beauty and the TSeast

to 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 the 'Beast paid his visit, she
told him all about the comedy. £ Eh ? You like
that sort of thing, do you ? ' asked the monster.
c Well, you shall have as much of it as you like.
You are so pretty.' TSeauty could not help smiling
inwardly at his clumsy compliments. But she
smiled no longer when he put to her once again his
blunt question : —

c TSeauty^ will you be my wife ? '

£ No, TSeast^ 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.

c I should be happy enough,' she answered, £ if

I 10

^Beauty and the TZeast

the TSeast did not pester me so. I — I almost
think, by his foolish compliments, that he would
like me to marry him.' TSeauty expected her dream-
lover to show some jealousy at this ; seeing that he
merely stood glum, she went on, c 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 the ^Prince should have been in
raptures at this avowal ; but all his answer was :
c 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 to beauty to 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 : —

1 1 1

"Beauty and the "Beast

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 inexpres-
sible 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.
TSeauty, 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 being

I 12

beauty and the "Seasf

cheated ; 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 recep-
tion. 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, how TSeauty longed 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.

"3

'Beauty and the 'Beast

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. TSeauty
began 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

t O

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. The IZeast
alone (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 :
' TSeast, 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.

Now IZeauty, whatever else she thought of the
Beast, had by this time learnt to trust him for
honest. It was a dreadful disappointment, there-
fore, to be forced to believe on his word that her

114

TZeauty and the "Beasf

Prince Charming had 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.

c What has gone wrong, dear TZeauty ? ' he
demanded. £ Why are you in this distress ? . . .
Ah, it is the 'Beast who persecutes you ! But,
never fear, you shall be delivered here and now from
his attention ' — and with these words the cPri?ice
snatched 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. But TSeauty^
whom an unseen power held back as she would
have run to prevent the murder, on the instant
found voice to cry, c Stay ! Stay, rash fool ! or kill
me before you kill him who has been my best
friend ! ' ( Friend ? answered back the cPri?ice, still
with his dagger lifted ; c and am I no more than
that ? : ' You are an unfaithful one, at any rate,'
persisted TSeauty ; ( if, knowing well that I would

TZeauty and the 'Beast

lay 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. c Courage, TSeauty \ ' said this fresh phan-
tom ; c your happiness is not far ofT, if only you
will go your own way and trust not to appearances.'

This dream left ^Beauty so 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 Iteast paid his usual visit, he detected
almost at once that she had been weeping, and
demanded the reason.

c Ah, sir,' said TSeauty, c if only I might go
home ! '

c You wish to go home ? ' The TSeasts face
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 , TSeauty \
Would you desert a poor 'Beastl What more can
I do to make you happy ? Or is it because you
hate me, that you wish to be gone ? '

116

^«r"*%

you, 7L<£lje a

•Ml.ll Mill

TSeauty and the TSeast

' No, Beast, answered TSeauty gently ; ' I do
not hate you, and I should be very sorry never to
see you again. But I do long to see my own
people. Let me go home for two months only,
and I promise to come back and stay with you for
the rest of my life.'

The TSeast had fallen flat and lay along the
carpet at her feet. His eyes were closed, and for
some while his heavy sighs alone told her that he
was neither dead nor in a swoon. By and by he
lifted his head :-

c I can deny you nothing,' he said sadly. * But
no matter, though it cost me my life. ... In the
room next to your bedroom you will find four
chests : fill them with everything you would like
to take with you. Be sure to keep your word ; for
if you break it and come back to find your poor
TSeast dead, you will be sorry when it is too late.
Come back at the end of two months and you will
find me alive ; and to come back you will not need
chariot or horses. Only say good-bye, that night,
to your father, and brothers, and sisters ; and, when
you are in bed, turn this ring round on your finger

and say firmly : "I wish to go back to my palace

117

TSeauty and the TSeast

and see my TSeast again." That is all. Good night,
TSeauty ! Sleep soundly, and in good time you shall
see your father once more.'

As soon as he was gone T^eauty set to work to
fill the four boxes with all the riches and finery
that heart could desire. She filled them to the
brim ; and then, tired out, she went to bed. But
for a long while she could not close her eyes for
excitement. It was not until close upon sunrise
that sleep visited her and, with it, another dream.
In this dream she saw her beloved Unknown
stretched at full length on a bank of turf. His face
was hidden, and she could hear that he was sobbing.
But when, touched by the sight of his grief, she
drew near to console him, he lifted his face to her
and said :-

( Cruel TSeauty, how can you ask what ails me ?
when you are leaving me, and your going is my
death warrant ! '

c But, dearest Trince^ said TSeauty^ ( I am only
going to tell my father and brothers and sisters
that I am well and happy. In a short while I
shall be back, never to leave you again. . . . But,
for that matter,' she went on as a new thought

118

^Beauty and the "Beast

struck her, c why should we be separated at all ? I
will put off my going for another day, and to-
morrow I will beg the TSeast to let you go with me.
I am sure he will not refuse.'

' I can only go with you, if you promise me
never to come back,' replied the (Pri?2ce. c And,
after all, when you have once delivered me, why
should we ever come back ? The TSeast will be
hurt in his feelings and very angry no doubt ; but
by that time we shall be beyond his power.'

c You forget,' ^Beauty reminded him sharply,
c that I have promised him to return, and that,
moreover, he says he will die of grief if I break my
word.'

' And what if he does ? ' demanded her lover.
£ Is not your happiness worth more than the life of
a monster ? Of what use is he in the world except
to frighten folks out of their wits ? '

c Ah, you do not understand ! ' cried TSeauty.
'This monster- -as you call him- -is only a monster
in his face, and through no fault of his. He has
the kindest heart in the world, and how could I be
so ungrateful after all he has done for me !

' I believe,' said her lover bitterly, c that if you

119

TSeauty and the T3east

saw us fighting, of the two you would rather let
me perish than this TSeast of yours.'

TSeauty told him that he was cruel and unjust,
and begged him to talk of something else. She set
the example, too. Seeing that he was piqued and
proud, she addressed a long speech to him, full of
endearments, to win him back to a good humour,
and was growing astonished at her own eloquence
when, in the middle of it, she awoke.

Her last words seemed to mingle with the sound
of familiar voices. She sprang out of bed and drew
her curtain. ... It was very strange ! As the
sunlight poured in she saw that she was in a room
much more poorly furnished than that in which she
had fallen asleep. She dressed in haste, and open-
ing the door, found that the next room too was like
no apartment in the least's palace. But at her
feet stood the four chests she had packed overnight ;
and, while she marvelled, again she heard a voice
talking, and ran towards it. For it was her
father's.

She rushed out and fell into his arms. He,
poor man, stared at her as though she had sprung
from another world, and the others were no less

I2O

^Beauty and the "Beast

astonished. Her brothers embraced her with trans-
ports of joy, while her sisters — who, to tell the
truth, had not overcome their jealousy — pretended
to be quite as glad. They plied her with a thousand
questions, which she answered very good-naturedly,
putting aside her own impatience ; for she too had
a number of questions to ask. To begin with, this
house of theirs was not the cottage in which she
had left them, but a fine new one her father had
been able to buy with the ^Beasis presents. If not
wealthy, he was in easy circumstances ; with the
bettering of their fortunes his sisters had found other
wooers and were soon to be married ; and altogether
beauty had the satisfaction of knowing that she had
at least brought prosperity back to her family. : As
for you, my dearest child,' said the merchant, c when
your sisters are married, you shall keep house for
your brothers and me, and so my old age will be
happy.'

This was all very well, but ^Beauty had to tell
her father that she must leave him again in two
months' time ; whereat he broke out into lamenta-
tions. ' Dear father,' said the sensible girl, ' it is
good of you to weep ; but it is useless, and I would

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^Beauty and the TSeast

rather have your advice, which is sure to be
useful.' Thereupon she told him all the story.
Her father considered for a while, and then said :—

' 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 TSeast^ you say, is frightful. His ap-
pearance 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 — " hand-
some is as handsome does ' -it is clear to me that
these phantoms would have you say " Yes ' to the
TSeast, and I too advise you to consent.'

'Beauty saw the wisdom ot 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

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^Beauty and the "Beast

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

T I23

^Beauty and the TSeast

the bushes and addressed her in a tone of grave
reproach :-

' I doubt, TSeauty, 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 TSeauty awoke in her
bed with a start. c 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 : ' / 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, ' Tleauty, TSeauty^
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 ISeast. 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

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TZeauty and the 'Beast

she broke away impatiently, wandering through the
house and the gardens to fill up the time until even-
ing 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, fete 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 TSeauty,
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.

125

TSeauty and the TZeast

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.

c Ah ! what a fright you have given me ! ' she
murmured. ' Dear l^east^ 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.'

c TSeautyl said the *Beast faintly, c 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 ? '

126

^Beauty and the

c Sure of what ? ' asked beauty.

c That you love me ? '

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

' Yes, let us go back to supper,' agreed the
TSeast, lifting himself heavily on her arm. He still
leaned on her, as they walked back to the palace
together. But the sapper- -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.

TSeauty, 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 door-
way he put the old blunt question.

' TSeauty, will you marry me ?

c 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.

127

^Beauty and the TSeast

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- -c LONG LIVE BEAUTY AND THE BEAST ! '

TSeauty turned to ask what all these rejoicings
might mean ; and, with that, she gave a cry. The
Tleast 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 rever-
ence 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

128

TZeauty and the 1>east

he, who had been a TSeast^ 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 TSeauty and the TSeast.

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 :

6 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.

* l

cOONI

Text printed by T. ajid A. CONSTABLE, Printers to His Majesty, Edinburgh
Illustrations by HENRY STONE AND SON, LTD., Banbury