Beauty and the Beast (Fairytale)/Villeneuve

Not very far away from here there may be seen a great city, which is maintained in a state of wealth by its very prosperous men. It numbered amongst its citizens a merchant, who was successful in all that he undertook, and on whom Dame Fortune, ever at his beck and call, had showered her most rare and fairest favours. But if he had immense wealth, he had also a great many children. His family, in fact, was composed of six boys and six girls. None of them were as yet married, for the boys were still too young to think of it, and the daughters, proud of the large fortunes upon which they had every reason to count, found it difficult to decide upon the choice they should make.

While the vanity of these maidens was being flattered by the attentions of all the most handsome young men in the place, there suddenly came a reverse of fortune, which was the last thing these girls expected, and which sadly troubled the peacefulness of their life. The house in which they lived took fire. The splendid furniture with which it was filled, all the books of account, the bank-notes, the gold and silver, as well as all the precious stores, which formed the merchant's chief source of wealth, were enveloped in the disastrous conflagration, the violence of which was such that scarcely anything was saved.

This terrible misfortune was destined to be but the forerunner of others. The father, with whom everything had prospered hitherto, lost at one and the same time, either by shipwreck or through falling into the hands of pirates, all the ships that he had at sea. His agents, at home made him a bankrupt, and those who acted for him in foreign lands deceived him. In short, from a position of the greatest opulence, he fell, at a single blow, to one of the utmost destitution. There remained to him nothing but a little country dwelling-place, situated in a secluded and desert spot, more than a hundred leagues from the city in which he had hitherto lived. Compelled, as he was, to seek a place of refuge, it was here, far from the noise and tumult, that he brought his family, all the members of which were in utter despair at such a revolution in their manner of life.

The daughters, especially, of this unfortunate merchant were filled with dismay at the thought of the life they were going to lead in this sad solitude. For some time they had flattered themselves that, when their father's intention became known, their lovers, who had hitherto sued in vain, would be only too happy to find that they were prepared to listen to them. They had fondly imagined that the many admirers of each would all be striving to obtain the preference, and they had believed that they had but to wish for a husband in order to have one. They did not remain very long, however, in so delightful an illusion. They had soon to learn that they had lost the most attractive of their charms, when, like a flash of lightning, their father's splendid fortune had disappeared, and that their time for choosing had departed with it. The crowd of ardent adorers vanished at the moment of their downfall, and neither their beauty nor their charms were capable of retaining a single one.

Their friends were not more generous than their lovers. From the moment that they became poor, all, without exception, ceased to know them. Some were even so cruel as to attribute their misfortunes to their own acts. Indeed, those whom the father had most obliged became the most vehement of his calumniators, and went about reporting that all these calamities had been brought about by his own bad conduct, his prodigality, and the excessive extravagance that he had allowed his children to indulge in. The members of this unhappy family, therefore, found that they could do nothing better than disappear from a city where everyone took a delight in insulting them in their misfortune. Without means of any kind, they shut themselves up in their little country house, which was situated in the midst of an almost impenetrable forest, and which might well be considered the saddest abode in the world. What miseries they had to endure in this frightful solitude ! Being no longer able to have anyone to wait upon them, the sons of this unfortunate merchant divided the servants' duties among themselves, and each exerted himself as best he could in trying to find a means of subsistence in a country life. As for the daughters, they also had their work to do. Like poor peasant girls, they found themselves obliged to employ their delicate hands in all the labours of a rural life. Having nothing to gratify their vanity, wearing nothing but woollen dresses, existing alone upon the simplest necessaries and upon what the land could give them, these girls, nevertheless, still retained their refined and dainty tastes, and never ceased regretting the city and its attractions. The recollection of their early years, passed so rapidly in the midst of laughter and amusement, caused them the most acute pain.

The youngest girl, however, in their common misfortune, displayed a greater courage and resolution than the others. She bore her lot cheerfully, and with a strength of mind that was far beyond her years. Like the rest, she had at first been terribly melancholy. Alas! who would not have given way under such misfortunes ? But, after having bitterly deplored her father's ruin, could she have done better than resume her former gaiety, make up her mind to be happy in the new position she was placed in, and forget a world which she and her family had found so ungrateful, and whose friendship had proved so unreliable in time of adversity ?

Filled with a longing to comfort her father and her brothers, there was nothing which her sweet nature and witty disposition left undone in her attempt to amuse them. The merchant had spared no cost in her education, as in that of her sisters, and at this sad period she derived all the benefit from it that she desired. She could not only play exceedingly well upon various instruments, but she could also sing to them as well to her own accompaniment. One would have thought that her sisters would have followed her bright example, but her cheerfulness and patience only made them the more miserable. These girls, in fact, who were so inconsolable in their ill-fortune, thought that the conduct of their youngest sister showed a meanness of soul and a weakness of mind, to be thus so merry in the state it had pleased Providence to reduce them to. " How happy she is ! " said the eldest. " She was intended for coarse occupations like these. With such low notions, what would she have done in society?" These remarks were unjust. This young girl was much more fitted to shine in the world than any of them.

She was a perfectly beautiful young creature, and her sweet and even temper rendered her adorable. Her tender heart as generous as it was tender showed itself in all her words and acts. No less alive than her sisters to the reverses that had overwhelmed her family, she knew, by a strength of mind seldom found in her sex, how to conceal her sorrow, and rise superior to her adversities. Thus it was that her firmness passed for insensibility in the minds of her sisters. But one can easily appeal from a judgment pronounced by jealousy.

Recognised for what she really was by all intelligent persons, the latter were not slow in giving her the preference over her sisters. In the midst of her former splendour she had acquired the name of " Beauty," as well for the real worth and charm of her character, as for the extraordinary grace and beauty of her person ; known as she was, by this name alone, what more was required to increase the jealousy and the hatred of her sisters ? Her charms, indeed, and the general esteem in which she was held, might have induced her to hope for a much more advantageous establishment than her sisters could have expected ; but, with feelings of sympathy only for her father in his misfortunes, so far from endeavouring to retard his departure from a city in which she had enjoyed so much pleasure, she did all she could to hurry it on. In the loneliness of the forest, this young girl showed as much tranquillity as she had showed in the midst of the gaieties of society. To amuse herself, in her hours of relaxation, she would dress her hair with flowers, and, as with the shepherdesses of olden time, a rustic life causing her to forget all that had most gratified her in the midst of opulence, she found every day some new and innocent pastime with which to beguile her time.

Two years had already passed, and the family was beginning to accustom itself to a country life, when a hope of returning prosperity came to disturb its tranquillity. The father received news that one of his vessels, which he had believed was lost, had just arrived safely in port, richly laden. He was informed at the same time, that fears were entertained lest his agents, taking advantage of his absence, should dispose of the cargo at a miserable figure, and by this fraud make a great profit at his expense. He imparted these tidings to his children, who did not doubt for an instant but that they would soon be enabled to return from exile. The girls especially, more impatient than the boys, deeming it unnecessary to wait for more certain proof, wanted to set out immediately and leave everything behind them. But the father, more prudent, begged them to moderate their transports ; and although it was of the greatest importance that he should be with his family at a time when the labours of the field could not be interrupted without great loss, he determined, nevertheless, to leave to his sons the task of getting in the harvest, and to set out upon this long journey alone.

All his daughters, with the exception of the youngest, firmly believed that they would soon be restored to their former opulence. They fancied that, even if their father found that his property was not sufficiently great to warrant his bringing his children back to the great metropolis, the city of their birth, he would at least have enough to settle them in a less expensive town—a town where they would find a tolerable society, and where they would be able to attract admirers ; and they made up their minds to profit by the first offer that might be made to them. No longer thinking of the troubles they had undergone during the last two years, believing themselves already, as by a miracle, transported from poverty into the lap of plenty, they ventured—for a life of solitude had not cured them of the taste for luxury and display—to overwhelm their father with the most extravagant commissions. He was urged to make all sorts of purchases for them in the way of jewels, attire and head-dresses. Each tried to outdo the other in her demands, so that the sum total of their father's supposed fortune would not have been sufficient to satisfy them. Beauty, who was not tyrannised over by ambition, and who always acted with prudence, saw directly that if he executed all her sisters' commissions, it would be useless for her to ask for anything. But her father, surprised at her silence, said to her, as he interrupted his insatiable daughters—

"And you, Beauty, have you no wish at all? Come, speak freely ; what am I to bring home for you? What is it you want?"

" Dear papa," replied the charming child, as she embraced him affectionately, " I wish for one thing more precious than all the ornaments that my sisters have asked you for. All my wants are centred in this one wish, and I shall be only too happy if it can be fulfilled. It is the gratification of seeing you return home in perfect health."

This answer was so unmistakably disinterested that it covered the others with shame and confusion. They were so angry that one of them, speaking for the rest, said bitterly—

" This child gives herself great airs and imagines that she will distinguish herself by this affected heroism. Nothing surely could be more ridiculous."

But the father, touched by her feelings, could not refrain from showing his delight, and, though appreciating the desires to which this child confined herself, he nevertheless begged her to choose something, and in order to allay the ill-will that his other daughters had towards her, he observed to her that such indifference to dress was not natural at her age, and that there was a time for everything.

" Very well, dear father," said she, " since you will have me request something, I beg you to bring me a rose. I adore that flower, and since I have been in this desert, I have not had the pleasure of seeing a single one." In this way she did what her father asked her, and at the same time she avoided putting him to any expense for her.

The day, however, came, when this good old man had to tear himself from the embraces of his numerous family. As fast as he could, he travelled to the great city, whither the prospect of a new fortune had recalled him. But he found that things were not as hopeful as he had anticipated. His ship had certainly arrived ; but his partners, believing him to be dead, had taken possession of it, and all the cargo had been disposed of. Thus, so far from entering into the full and peaceable possession of what belonged to him, he was compelled to encounter all sorts of chicanery in the pursuit of his rights. He overcame these difficulties, but after more than six months of annoyance and expense, he found that he was no richer than before. His debtors had become insolvent, and it was with difficulty that he was able to defray his own costs. Thus ended this dream of riches.

To add to his troubles, he was obliged, in order to spare his purse, to start on his homeward journey at a most unseasonable time and in the most wretched weather. Exposed on the road to all the inclemencies of the atmosphere, he was often on the point of succumbing from fatigue. But when he found himself within a few leagues of his home that home which he had never reckoned on leaving for the sake of running after empty hopes, which Beauty had shown her sense in distrusting his strength returned to him. To cross the forest, he had still a march of several hours before him, and though it was late, he determined to continue his journey. But he soon found himself overtaken by the fall of night. As he was suffering from the most intense cold, not knowing which way to bend his steps, and almost buried—he and his horse in the snow, he thought that his last hour had come. No hut was in his road, although the forest was filled with them. A tree, hollowed by decay, was the best shelter he could find, and he was only too happy to be able to hide himself in it. This tree, protecting him from the cold, was the means of saving his life. His horse, in the meantime, was guided by instinct to take shelter in a cave hard by.

The night, in such a situation, appeared to him unending ; furthermore, he was ravaged by the pangs of hunger and appalled by the roarings of the wild beasts, who never ceased prowling around his hiding-place. He had not an instant's tranquillity. His troubles and anxieties did not end with the night. No sooner had he the pleasure of seeing the dawn of day, than his embarrassment became all the greater ; the ground was all so extraordinarily covered with snow that no road was visible. No track of any kind was to be seen. It was only after great fatigue and frequent falls that he succeeded in discovering something like a path upon which he could keep his footing.

Proceeding without knowing in which direction, chance guided his footsteps into the avenue of a beautiful castle, which, it appeared, y the snow had respected, as there was none to be seen. This avenue was composed of four rows of orange-trees of a great height, which were laden with flowers and fruit. Here and there statues were to be seen, erected apparently without any regard for order or symmetry, some being placed by the side of the road, others among the trees, and all being composed of some unknown substance ; all of them, too, were life-size, and had the colour of human beings ; they stood in different attitudes, and were clothed in various dresses, the greater number in the garb of warriors. On arriving at the outer court of the castle, the merchant saw more statues, in infinite numbers. He was suffering so much from cold that he was unable to stop and examine them. Then an agate staircase, with balusters chased in gold, presented itself to his sight. He passed onwards, through several magnificently furnished rooms, where a gentle warmth greatly invigorated him. Food he needed sorely, but to whom apply ? This vast and magnificent edifice appeared to be inhabited only by statues. A profound silence reigned throughout it ; and yet it had by no means the air of an old palace that had been deserted. The halls, the rooms, the galleries, were all of them open, and still no living being was to be seen in this charming place.

Weary of wandering through the apartments of this immense building, he came to a halt in a drawing-room, where a large fire was brightly burning. Presuming that it had been prepared for someone who would not be long in coming, he drew near, in order to warm himself. But no one came. Expectant, he seated himself on a sofa near the fireplace, and there a sweet sleep closed his eyelids and prevented the possibility of further watching for the entrance of anyone. As fatigue had caused him to fall asleep, so the pangs of hunger came to interrupt his rest. For more than four-and-twenty hours he had been tormented by them, and the exercise he had taken in wandering throughout the palace had not conduced to lessen them. What was his surprise, on opening his eyes, to find at his side a table delicately laid. He needed more than a light repast ; here there were dishes of all kinds, all so sumptuously prepared, that each was in itself an invitation to him to eat.

His first care was to render thanks in a loud voice to those from whom so much kindness came. Then he resolved to wait quietly until it should please his hosts to make themselves known. As fatigue had caused him to fall asleep before the repast, so now the meal he partook of had the same effect upon him ; but this time his slumber was longer and more peaceful, lasting, indeed, for at least four hours. On awaking, in the place of the first table he saw another of porphyry, upon which some kind hand had spread a collation, consisting of cakes, preserved fruits, wines and liqueurs. This was likewise for his use. Profiting, therefore, by the kindness shown him, he helped himself to everything that tempted his appetite, his palate, or his fancy.

At length, not seeing anyone to whom he could speak, or from whom he might learn whether this palace was the abode of a man or the habitation of a god, fear began to take possession of him, for he was naturally timid. He determined, therefore, to repass through all the apartments, to overwhelm with thanks the Genius to whom he was indebted for so much consideration, and then, in the most respectful manner, to beg the owner to shew himself. All his attentions were futile. No servant of any kind appeared, and he could find nothing by which he could ascertain whether the palace was inhabited or not. As he was profoundly meditating on what he ought to do, the idea suddenly presented itself to his fancy that, for some inexplicable reason, some good spirit was making him a present of this mansion, with all the treasures that it contained. This thought he took for an inspiration, and so, without further delay, making a fresh inspection of all these treasures, he took possession of everything. More than this, he proceeded to settle in his own mind the share he would allot to each of his children, and he even selected the rooms which would suit each of them the best, all the time thinking of the joy and delight that his journey would cause them. He went into the garden, where, in spite of the severity of the winter, he saw, as though in the midst of spring, the rarest flowers, which exhaled the most delicious perfumes. The air was mild and sweet. In the trees there were all kinds of birds, whose songs, blending with the stir of waters, formed a charming symphony.

The old man, in ecstasies at the sight of so many marvellous things, said to himself, " My daughters will not, I fancy, have much difficulty in accustoming themselves to this charming abode. I cannot believe that they will regret or that they will prefer the city to this mansion. Come," cried he, in a transport of joy little common with him, " I must set out at once ; here I can only anticipate my children's delight ; to really enjoy their pleasure I must hurry home to them."

Upon entering this castle, so smiling, he had taken care, notwithstanding the fact that he was half dead with the cold, to unbridle his horse, and send him off in the direction of a stable that he had observed in the outer court. An alley, ornamented with palisades laden with rose-bushes in full bloom, led to it. Never had he seen such lovely roses ! Their perfume reminded him of his promise to bring home a rose to Beauty. He picked one, and was about to gather enough to make half-a-dozen bouquets, when a terrible noise made him turn round. Great was his terror, on perceiving a horrible beast close beside him, which, in a terrible voice, said to him, as it furiously laid a kind of trunk, like that of an elephant, upon his neck—

" Who gave you permission to pick my roses ? Was it not enough to have allowed you the use of my palace, and to have shown you the hospitality you have enjoyed ? Instead of being filled with gratitude, I find you, rash mortal, stealing my roses I But your insolence shall not remain unpunished."

The good man, overcome with dread at the unexpected presence of this monster, and on hearing this discourse, thought that he should die of fright, and, quickly throwing away the fatal rose

"Ah! Monseigneur," he cried, as he prostrated himself at its feet, " have pity on me. Indeed I am not ungrateful. Deeply touched by all your goodness to me, I was far from imagining that so small a thing could have offended you."

The monster, big with anger, replied—

" Silence, cursed babbler ! Your flattery does not move me, and I care nothing for the titles you give me. I am not Monseigneur, I am the Beast, and you shall not escape the death you deserve."

The merchant, in dismay at so cruel a sentence and thinking that submission was the only chance he had of saving his life, told him that the rose which he had dared to pick he had intended to bring to one of his daughters, whose name was Beauty. Then, either in the hope of retarding his death, or thinking that he might induce his enemy to feel for him, he related to him all his adventures. He told him what had been the object of his journey, and he did not omit to mention the little present which he had promised to bring to Beauty. He added that that was the only thing she had asked, whereas the riches of a king would hardly suffice to satisfy the desires of his other daughters. Then he spoke of the opportunity which had presented itself to him the opportunity of satisfying Beauty's modest wish, saying how he believed he could have done so without offending anyone, and he ended by begging pardon for his involuntary fault.

The Beast considered a moment, then, speaking in a somewhat milder tone, he held forth thus—

" I am willing to pardon you, but on this one condition only, namely, that you give me one of your daughters. To repair the injury you have done, someone must be given to me."

" Just heaven ! " replied the merchant. " What is it you ask of me, and how could I keep my word ? Even were I so inhuman as to wish to save my own life at the expense of that of one of my daughters, under what pretext could I get her to come here ? "

" I won't hear of any pretext," interrupted the Beast ; " whichever daughter you bring must come here of her own accord, or I will not have her come at all. Go and see if there be amongst them one with sufficient courage, and loving you enough to expose herself in order to save your life. You have the air of an honest man : give me your word of honour that you will return here in a month's time, accompanied by one of your daughters, if you can persuade one of them to come with you : she will then remain here, and you will be allowed to go home. If you cannot do this, promise me that you will return here alone, after having said farewell to your family for ever. For then you will belong to me. Do not imagine," continued the monster, grinding his teeth, " that by merely accepting my proposal you will be able to save yourself. I warn you that, if such be your thoughts, I shall seek you out and destroy not only you, but all your race, even though you should have a hundred thousand men to defend you."

The good man, although fully convinced of the futility of putting the devotion of his daughters to such a proof, accepted, nevertheless, the monster's proposition. He promised to return at the stated time, and give himself up to his sad fate, without rendering it necessary for the Beast to come and look for him. After this assurance he thought himself at liberty to retire and take leave of the Beast, whose presence was most distressing to him. The respite he had obtained was but brief, and yet he feared it might be revoked. So he expressed his anxiety to depart ; but the Beast told him that he could not leave until the following day.

"You will find," said he, "a horse ready for you at break of day, which will carry you home in the shortest time. Now good-bye, go to supper and await my orders."

The poor man, more dead than alive, returned to the drawing-room, where he had feasted so heartily. He saw his supper, before a large fire, already laid out, and it seemed to invite him to partake of it. The delicacy and richness of the dishes had, however, no longer any temptation for him. Prostrated by his misfortune, he would never have seated himself at the table, had it not been that he feared lest the Beast, hidden somewhere, was observing him, and would be offended by any slight on his bounty. In order therefore to avoid a further catastrophe, he made a momentary truce with his grief, and, as well as his afflicted heart would permit, he tasted, in turn, of the various dishes. At the end of the repast, a great noise was heard in the adjoining apartment, and the merchant had no doubt about it being caused by his formidable host. As he could not manage to escape his presence, he tried to recover from the alarm which this sudden noise had caused him. At the same moment the Beast appeared and asked him abruptly if he had had a good supper. The good man replied, in a modest and timid voice, that he had, thanks to his kindness, eaten very heartily. The Beast then said—

" Promise me that you will not forget the word you have given me, and that you will keep it as a man of honour, in bringing me one of your daughters."

The old man, whom this conversation did not at all entertain, swore to him to fulfil what he had promised and to return, in a month's time, either alone, or accompanied by one of his daughters, in the event of his finding one of them sufficiently fond of him to follow him on the conditions which he would have to propose to her.

" I warn you again," said the Beast, " to take care not to leave her under any misapprehension as to the sacrifice which you have to exact of her and as to the danger which she will have to undergo. Paint my face to her just as it is. Let her know what she will have to do, and above all, let her be firm in her resolution. Once you have brought her here, there will no longer be any time for reflection. There must be no drawing back ; for then not only you yourself will be lost, but she as well will not have the chance of returning."

The merchant, overcome by this discourse, reiterated his promise to conform to all that had been prescribed to him. Then the monster, as though satisfied with his answers, ordered him to go to bed and not to get up until he should see the sun and until he had heard the sound of a golden bell.

" Before setting out, you will partake of breakfast," said he again ; " and you may take with you a rose for Beauty. You will find the horse, which is to carry you, ready for you in the courtyard. I rely on seeing you again in a month, if you are anything of an honest man. Farewell ; if you fail in your word, it is I who will pay you a visit."

The good man, fearing to prolong a conversation, which he had found only too trying, made a profound reverence to the Beast, who told him again to be under no anxiety as to the road by which he should return, as at the appointed time the very same horse that he was to ride on the morrow, would be found at his door, ready to bring away himself and his daughter.

However little disposition the old man had to go to sleep, he dared not disobey the orders he had received. Obliged to go to bed, he did not rise until the sun began to shine into his room. He breakfasted quickly, and then went into the garden to pick the rose which the Beast had commanded him to take with him. How this flower caused him to weep ! But the fear of drawing on himself new disasters made him restrain his feelings, and he went, as quickly as he could, to look for the horse which had been promised him. When he found it, he saw that there was a cloak, warm but light, lying across the saddle. He wrapped himself in it, finding it much more comfortable than his own. No sooner did the horse feel him on its back than it set off at an incredible speed. In an instant the merchant lost sight of the fatal palace, experiencing, as he did so, as great a sensation of joy as he had felt the previous evening on perceiving it ; with this difference, however, that his delight at leaving it was embittered by the cruel necessity of having to return to it.

"To what have I pledged myself?" said he as his courser bore him onwards with a speed and ease unknown except in Fairyland. Would it not have been better to have become at once the victim of this monster, who thirsts for the blood of my family ? In return for a promise I have made him, a promise as unnatural as indecorous, he has prolonged my days. Is it possible that I could have thought of saving my life at the expense of that of one of my daughters ? Shall I be guilty of such barbarity as to bring her there, merely, doubtless, to see her devoured before my eyes ? " Then all at once, interrupting himself, he cried, " Ah ! miserable wretch that I am I Is it that that I have the most to fear ? Even if I could find it in my heart to silence the voice of nature, is it on me alone that this infamous act depends ? Not only must she know her fate, but she must willingly consent to it. I see no chance of her being inclined to sacrifice herself for an inhuman father, and I have no right to make such a proposition to her ; it is too unjust. Even if the affection which they all have for me should induce one of them to immolate herself, would not a single glance at the Beast be enough to destroy her constancy, and of what then could I complain ? Ah ! too imperious Beast," he exclaimed with emphasis, "you have done this on purpose 1 You have added this impossible condition to the means you have offered me to escape your fury, only in order to add insult to injury. But," he continued, " I will not think of it ; my mind is made up, and I will rather expose myself unresistingly to your rage than attempt a useless means of escape, and one which a father's love shrinks from employing. Let me retrace the road to this frightful palace, and, without deigning to purchase at such a price the remnant of a life which could never be anything but miserable, and without waiting for the month which is accorded me to expire, let me return and terminate this day my miserable existence ! "

At these words, he endeavoured to retrace his steps, but he found it impossible to turn his horse back. Allowing himself, therefore, against his will to be conducted, he made up his mind that he would at least say nothing to his daughters. It was not long before he saw his house in the distance, and, strengthening himself more and more in his resolution, he said to himself, " I shall say nothing whatever to them of the danger that threatens me. I shall have the pleasure of embracing them once again. I shall give them my last words of advice, and beg them to live on affectionate terms with their brothers, whom I shall also implore not to abandon them."

In the midst of these cogitations he reached his door. The arrival of his horse, which had found its way home alone on the evening before, had greatly alarmed his family. His sons, dispersed in the forest, were seeking him everywhere, and his daughters, in their impatience to have some tidings of him, were on the threshold, asking all passers-by if they had seen or heard anything of him. As he was mounted on a magnificent steed, and wrapped in a rich cloak, they did not at first recognise him, but took him for a messenger sent to them by him, and the rose which they saw attached to the pummel of the saddle, set their minds quite at ease as to their parent's safety. When, however, this afflicted father drew nearer, they recognised him and hastened to express their satisfaction at seeing him return in good health. But the sadness depicted in his face, and the tears with which his eyes were filled and which he vainly endeavoured to restrain, changed their joy into anxiety. They all wanted to know the cause of his trouble. But he made no reply, beyond saying to Beauty, as he handed her the fatal rose

" Behold what you asked me to bring you! Alas, it will cost you dear, you and all the others as well."

"I was sure of it," said the eldest daughter, "and I was saying, only this very moment, that her commission would be the only one you would execute. At this time of year, a rose must have cost more than all the things we asked you to bring to all the five of us. Judging by appearances, this flower will be faded before the day is over. But all the same, and however great the cost, you were determined to satisfy the lucky Beauty."

" It is true," replied the father sadly, " that this rose has cost me dear, dearer than all the ornaments you asked me to bring you. It is not in money, however ; and would to Heaven that I could have bought it with all that I am yet worth in the world ! "

These words aroused the curiosity of his children, and dispelled the resolution which he had formed to say nothing about his adventures. So he told them of the ill-success of his journey, the difficulties he had undergone in running after a chimerical fortune, and all that had taken place in the palace of the monster. When he had ended, despair took the place of joy and hope. The daughters, seeing all their projects annihilated by this thunderbolt, uttered fearful cries. The brothers, more spirited, said resolutely that they would never allow their father to return to the fatal castle, and that they had sufficient courage to deliver the earth of this horrible Beast, supposing he should have the temerity to come in search of him. The good man, although moved by their distress, forbade them to commit violence, saying that since he had given his word of honour, he would rather kill himself than fail to keep it.

They tried, however, to think of a means of saving his life. These young fellows, full of bravery and affection, proposed that one of themselves should go instead and offer himself up to the fury of the Beast. But the latter had explained very definitely that it was one of the daughters he wanted and not one of the sons. The brave brothers, grieved that their good intentions could not be put into execution, did then all that they could to inspire their sisters with the same sentiments. But the jealousy of the latter towards Beauty was such as to raise an insuperable obstacle to any heroic action on their part.

" It is not just," argued they, " to expect us to be willing to perish in such a ghastly manner for a fault which we have never committed. That would only be making us Beauty's victims ; and although you would be very pleased to see us sacrificing ourselves for her, duty does not go so far as to demand that of us. This is the fruit of the self-denial and perpetual preaching of this unhappy girl ! Why did she not, as we did, ask for new clothes and jewels ? If we have not got them, the asking for them has not, at all events, cost anything, and we have no reason to reproach ourselves for having put the life of our father in danger, by asking for impossible things. If she had not wished, by that affected disinterestedness of hers, to give herself those airs of importance, he would—as she is in all things more favoured than we are—doubtless have got together enough money to satisfy her. But she must needs, by her absurd caprices, bring on us all these misfortunes. It is she who is the cause of them all, and yet you ask us to pay the penalty. We will not be duped into it. She it is who has brought it all about, so let her find the way out of it."

Beauty, whose grief had almost deprived her of consciousness, suppressing her sobs and tears, said to her sisters—

"Yes, I am the cause of all this trouble and I alone must bear the burden. I admit that it would be unjust to make you surfer for my fault. Alas ! it was but an innocent wish, however. Could I foresee that the desire to have a rose, when we were in the midst of summer, would be punished so cruelly ? But the fault is done, and whether I am innocent or guilty, it is only right that I should atone for it. It cannot be imputed to anyone else. I will risk my life," she pursued, in a firm tone, " to release my father from his fatal promise. I shall go to the Beast, only too happy in being able to die in the place of him who gave me my life, and only too glad to escape your murmurs. Do not fear that anything can turn me from my purpose ; only I beg of you, during this month, to do me the favour of sparing me your reproaches."

So much firmness in a girl of her age surprised them all greatly ; and her brothers, who loved her tenderly, were moved at her resolution. She was full of infinite attentions for them, and they * realised too well the loss they were about to sustain. But it was a "^question of saving the life of a father. This pious reason closed their mouths, and persuaded that it was a thing not to be helped, so far from thinking of combating so generous a resolution, they contented themselves by shedding tears, and giving their sister all the praise that her noble action merited, an action which was all the more praiseworthy in that she was only sixteen years of age, and was entitled to regret a life which she was about to sacrifice in so cruel a manner. The father, alone, would not consent to the determination which his youngest daughter had made ; but the other sisters, with little respect, charged him with being fond of Beauty only, in spite of all the misfortunes she had caused, and bitterly reproached him for being grieved because one of themselves did not think fit to atone for her imprudence. Such unjust language forced him to give way. Beauty, besides, had just assured him that, if he would not accept the exchange she offered, she would make it in spite of him, and going alone to the Beast, would perish without saving him.

" After all," said she, affecting a greater tranquillity than she felt, " how can one tell ? Perhaps the dreadful fate that awaits me only conceals another as happy as this appears terrible."

Her sisters, hearing her speak thus, smiled maliciously at the wild idea ; they were enchanted to think she was under the influence of such a fantastic notion. But the old man, conquered by her reasoning, and remembering that an ancient prediction had foretold that one day this daughter would be the means of saving his life, and would also become a source of happiness to her whole family, ceased to oppose her . will. Little by little the family began to speak of their departure as a thing of small importance. It was Beauty who gave the tone to the conversation ; but if, in the presence of her brothers or sisters, she appeared to consider it as a happy event, it was only because she was anxious to comfort her father, and because she did not wish to alarm him or her brothers unnecessarily. Although much distressed by the behaviour of her sisters towards her, who appeared as though impatient to see her go, and who thought that the month was passing all too slowly, she had the generosity to divide amongst them all her little property and the jewels she had at her disposal.

These elder girls joyfully accepted this fresh proof of Beauty's generous nature, without, however, abating in their hatred of her. Their hearts were filled with joy when they heard the neighing of the horse which was sent to carry off a sister whose gentleness their ugly jealousy e would not allow them to perceive. Only the father and the sons, at this fatal moment, were utterly afflicted, and they wanted to strangle the animal. But Beauty, preserving all her calm, pointed out to them the futility of this design, as well as the impossibility of executing it. After having taken leave of her brothers, she embraced her hard-hearted sisters, bidding them so tenderly farewell as to draw a few tears from their eyes and to leave them, for the space of a few moments, almost as distressed as their brothers.

During their expressions of regret, all too late in coming, the good man, hurried by his daughter, had mounted the horse. She placed herself behind him with as much alacrity as though she was about to start on a pleasure excursion. The animal seemed rather to fly than walk. This extreme speed, however, did not inconvenience Beauty in the least, for the paces of this singular steed were so gentle, that she felt no other motion than that which might have been caused by the gentle breath of the Zephyrs. During the journey, her father offered again and again to let her dismount, saying that he would go alone to the Beast, but it was in vain.

"Think, darling child," said he, "there is still time. This monster is more appalling than you can possibly imagine. However firm your resolutions now may be, I cannot help fearing that they will fail you when you see him. Then it will be too late ; you will be undone, and we both of us shall have to perish together."

" If I were going to the Beast," replied Beauty sagaciously, " in the expectation of being made happy, it is not impossible that all hope of happiness might fail me at the sight of him ; but, as what I have to expect is a speedy death, which appears to be unavoidable, what does it matter to me whether he who takes my life be agreeable or hideous ? "

Conversing thus, night fell upon them, but the horse went no less fast in the darkness. All at once the obscurity was dissipated by the most surprising sight, for suddenly the eyes of our two travellers were dazzled by a discharge of all kinds of beautiful fireworks. There were flower-pots, Catherine-wheels, suns, bouquets, and all the finest and latest inventions in pyrotechnics. This agreeable and unlooked-for illumination lighted up the entire forest, and diffused a gentle heat through the air, which was much appreciated by our travellers, for the cold in that country was more keenly felt by night than by day.

By means of this brilliancy, the merchant and his daughter were able to ascertain that they had arrived at the avenue of orange-trees. At the moment that they entered this avenue, the display of fireworks ceased, but the illumination was continued by the statues, who all of them held lighted torches in their hands. They saw, besides, lamps without number on the portals of the palace, symmetrically arranged in true lover's knots, and crowned monograms, the latter consisting of the intertwined initials of the names of Beauty and the Beast. On entering—the court, their arrival was announced by a salvo of artillery, the noise of which, mingled with that of a thousand instruments of various kinds,—some soft, some warlike had a thrilling and charming effect.

" The Beast," said Beauty jestingly " must be very hungry indeed to make such great rejoicings at the arrival of his prey." However, in spite of the agitation she felt at the approach of an event which, according to all appearance, was going to prove fatal to her, she could not help paying attention to the magnificent objects which succeeded each other, and presented to her view the most beautiful spectacle she had ever seen, nor could she help saying to her father that the preparations for her death were more brilliant than the bridal pomp of the greatest king in the world.

The horse came to a halt at the foot of the flight of steps. Beauty jumped lightly down, and her father, as soon as he had put foot to ground, conducted her through a hall to the drawing-room, in which he had been so bounteously feasted. They found there a large fire, lighted candles which emitted an exquisite perfume, and a table, richly laden with all things necessary for a repast. The good man, accustomed to the Beast's manner of entertaining his guests, told his daughter that this feast was intended for them, and that they were at liberty to partake of it. Beauty made no difficulty, well persuaded that it would not hasten her death. On the contrary, she imagined that it would show the Beast how little repugnance she felt in coming to see him. She hoped it was possible that her candour would soften him, and even that her adventure might end less sadly than she had at first feared. There was no sign of the formidable monster of whom she had heard so much, and yet the whole palace spoke of joy and magnificence. It appeared that it was her arrival that had caused these demonstrations, which it was hard to believe had been designed as accompaniments to a funeral ceremony.

Her hope did not last long, for presently the monster made himself heard. A frightful noise, caused by the enormous weight of his body, by the terrible rattling of his scales, and by an awful roaring, announced the coming of the Beast. Beauty was seized with terror. The old man hugged his daughter and uttered lamentable cries. But Beauty's agitation did not last long ; she recovered herself in a moment, and once more became mistress of herself. As soon as she saw the Beast approaching, whom she could scarcely look at without shuddering, she advanced to meet him with a firm step, and saluted him very respectfully. Her manner appeared to please the monster. After having looked her all over, he said to the old man, in a voice which, without being one of anger, was none the less such as to fill with terror the bravest heart—

" Good evening, my good man."

Then, turning to Beauty, he said the same thing to her.

" Good evening, Beauty."

The old man, fearing every instant that something terrible was about to happen to his daughter, had not the strength to reply. But Beauty, without any agitation and in a calm and sweet voice, said—

" Good evening, Beast."

" Have you come here of your own accord ? " the Beast then said to her. " And do you consent to let your father depart without accompanying him ? "

On Beauty replying that she had no other intention, the Beast continued—

" And what do you think will become of you after his departure ? "

" Whatever may seem good to you," she said ; " my life is at your disposal, and I am ready to submit myself blindly to whatever fate you have reserved for me."

" Your docility pleases me," replied the Beast, " and as it appears that you have not been brought here by force, you shall remain with me. As for you, my good man," said he to the merchant, "you will depart to-morrow at break of day ; a bell will warn you when to rise ; see that you do not delay after your breakfast. You will find the same horse that brought you here ready to bring you home. But," added he, " once in the midst of your family, you must never dream of revisiting my palace. Remember that its doors are closed to you for ever. And now, Beauty," continued the monster, addressing her, " conduct your father into the adjoining closet and choose anything which either of you think likely to give pleasure to your brothers and sisters. You will find two trunks in there as well ; these you will fill with as much as they can hold. It is only right that you should send them a fitting present so that they may not forget you altogether."

In spite of the monster's liberality, the approaching departure of her father deeply affected Beauty, and her grief was very great. However, she set about obeying the Beast, who had left them, after saying, as he had done on entering—

" Good-night, Beauty ; good-night, my good man."

As soon as they were alone, the good man embraced his daughter and wept bitterly. The idea of leaving her with the monster was most cruel to him. He repented of having brought her into such a place. The gates were open ; there was still time to fly. But Beauty would not hear of leaving, and she bade her father consider the dangers and consequences of such a proceeding. They went then into the closet which had been pointed out to them. Great was their surprise at the treasures it contained. It was filled with apparel so superb that a queen could not have wished for anything more beautiful or in better taste. No shop had ever a more fascinating or bewildering assortment.

When Beauty had chosen the dresses she thought the most suitable, not to the present situation of the family, but proportioned to the riches and liberality of the Beast, who was the donor, she opened a press, the door of which was of crystal, mounted in gold. Although such a magnificent exterior prepared her to find inside some rare and precious treasures, she saw such a mass of jewels of all kinds that her eyes could hardly support their brilliancy. Beauty, inspired by obedience, took without hesitation a prodigious quantity, which she divided as well as she could among the lots she had already made.

On opening the last chest, which proved to be nothing less than a cabinet absolutely filled with pieces of gold, Beauty changed her plans, and said to her father—

" Methinks it would be better to empty these trunks and to fill them instead with coin, which you will be able to give to your children as you think fit. By this means you will not be obliged to confide your secret to anyone, and you will be able to keep your riches to yourself without any danger. The possession of these jewels, though their value is probably much more considerable, would be of less advantage to you, as, in order to profit by them, you would be forced to sell them, and to trust them to persons who would only look on you with envious eyes. The confidence you would be obliged to place in such persons might even prove fatal to you. On the other hand, gold pieces of JQ current coin will place you beyond the reach of anxiety, and will give you the means of acquiring land and houses, and of purchasing sumptuous furniture, jewels, and ornaments."

The father approved of Beauty's design, but, as he was unwilling—in order to make room for the gold— to take out all the dresses he had designed for his daughters, he took out only those that he had selected for his own use. The great quantity of gold that he put into the trunks did not, however, appear to fill them. They were composed of folds which stretched at pleasure, so that he was able to find room for the jewels which he had displaced. At length they contained even more than he wanted.

" So much money," said he to his daughter, "will enable me to sell the jewels at my own convenience. Following your good advice, I shall hide this wealth from everyone, even from my children. If they knew me to be as rich as it appears I am going to be, they would never cease tormenting me to give up my country life, which, however, is the j; only one that has procured me any happiness the only one wherein I have not experienced the perfidiousness of false friends, with which the world is filled."

The trunks were now so heavy that an elephant would have sunk under their weight. When the good man realised this, the visions of prosperity which he had been indulging in suddenly vanished like empty dreams.

" The Beast is mocking us," said he ; " he pretends to make me a present of all this wealth, and at the same time he makes it impossible for me to carry it away."

" Suspend your judgment," replied Beauty ; " this liberality of his was not provoked by you by any indiscreet request, or by any greedy or covetous looks. A jest here would be quite pointless. It seems to me that, since the monster has offered it to you, he will surely find a means of enabling you to enjoy it. All we have to do is to close the trunks and leave them here. Doubtless he knows by what coach to send them on to you."

No advice could have been better inspired. The worthy man, acting upon it, re-entered the drawing-room with his daughter. Seated side by side upon a sofa, they noticed that a meal was already served for them. The father partook of it with better appetite than he had had on the previous evening. That which had just come to pass lessened his sorrow and restored his confidence. He even felt that, were it not for the Beast's cruelty in making him understand that he must never dream of seeing this palace again, and that he had to bid an eternal farewell to Beauty, he could set out on his homeward journey almost without concern. Death is the only evil for which there is no remedy ; so the good man was not too overwhelmed by the Beast's decree. He flattered himself that it would not prove irrevocable, and with this hope in his heart, he felt he could take leave of his host with a certain satisfaction. Beauty was less reconciled. Little persuaded that a happy future was reserved for her, she feared that the rich presents with which the monster loaded her family would prove to be nothing but the price of her own life, and that, as soon as ever he should be alone with her, he would devour her ; or at the least, that an eternal prison was to be her lot, with this frightful creature as her only companion. These thoughts plunged her into a profound reverie, in which she remained until a second stroke of the bell warned them both that it was time to separate. They descended into the courtyard, where the father found two horses, one laden with the two trunks, the other prepared for him the latter, richly caparisoned and with saddle-bags filled with refreshments, being the same animal that he had ridden before. So many attentions on the part of the Beast furnished them anew with subject for conversation. The neighing of the horses, however, and their impatience made known to them that it was time to part.

The merchant then, afraid of irritating the Beast if he delayed, bade his daughter an eternal adieu. The two horses set off faster than the wind, and they were out of Beauty's sight in an instant. Weeping, she mounted to the chamber which seemed to have been especially appropriated to her use, and there, for some little time, she lost herself in the most sad reflections. At length, feeling utterly weary, she longed—for sleep for sleep she had scarce enjoyed for more than a month past. Having nothing better to do, she was on the point of getting into bed, when she perceived, on the table by the bedside, a cup of freshly made chocolate. She drank it, and almost immediately her eyes closed and she fell into the most peaceful slumber—a slumber, the like of which, ever since she had received the fatal rose, had been unknown to her.

In her sleep she dreamed that she was on the bank of a canal, which stretched away as far as the eye could reach, and the sides of which were adorned with rows of orange-trees and flowering myrtles of prodigious size, where, all absorbed with her sad situation, she deplored the hard lot which condemned her to pass her days in this lace, without hope of ever leaving it.

A young man, as beautiful as Love is painted, then appeared to her and said, in a voice which touched her heart—

" Do not think, Beauty, that you are going to be as unhappy as it would appear. It is in this place that you will receive the recompense that has been so unjustly denied to you elsewhere. Let your penetration aid you in unravelling the appearances which surround me and which disguise me. Judge, on seeing me, whether my society be contemptible, or whether it should not rather be preferred to that of a family unworthy of you. Wish, and all your desires shall be accomplished. I love you tenderly ; and you, you alone can bring me happiness, if you can be happy yourself. Belie not yourself. Excelling all other women by the qualities of your mind, as you excel them in beauty, we shall be perfectly together. "

Then this charming phantom, kneeling at her side, made her the most gracious promises, in language of the tenderest ; in the most vivid terms he implored her to consent to his happiness, which, he said, depended on her alone.

" What is it I can do ? " she said to him eagerly.

" Obey the impulses of gratitude," he replied. " Do not judge by what you see with your eyes only ; above all, do not abandon me, but release me from the terrible torment I endure."

After this dream, she fancied she was in a magnificent room with a lady, whose majestic air and striking beauty created in her heart a feeling of profound respect. This lady, in a most caressing tone, said to her

"Charming Beauty, do not regret what you have left; a far more illustrious lot awaits you ; but if you would attain to this lot, then beware of letting yourself be led away by appearances.

She was asleep for more than five hours, during which time she saw the young man in a hundred different places and in a hundred different attitudes. Now he was offering her a fete galante, now he was making her the most tender avowals. How pleasant her sleep was ! She would have wished to prolong it, but her eyes, once opened to the light, refused to close again, and Beauty had fain to believe she had only had the pleasure of a charming dream.

A clock struck twelve, repeating her own name in music twelve times. This obliged her to rise. Her eyes then lighted on a toilet-table, covered with all that a lady could desire. After having dressed herself with a feeling of pleasure that she could not explain, she passed into another room, where dinner had just been served for her.

When one eats alone, a repast is very soon over. On returning to her chamber, she threw herself upon a sofa. The young man of whom she had dreamed appeared to her again in thought. " ' You alone can bring me happiness,' " she repeated to herself, " such were his words. Apparently this horrible Beast, who appears to command everything here, keeps him in prison. How to rescue him ? They said to me repeatedly that I was not to let myself be deceived by appearances. I can understand nothing of it all. But how foolish of me! Here I am amusing myself in trying to find the reason for an illusion formed in sleep, and which my waking has destroyed. I should pay no attention to it. What I have to think about is my present lot, and how to find some amusement which will prevent me from being overcome by melancholy."

Shortly afterwards she began to wander through the numerous apartments of the palace. She was enchanted with all she saw, never having looked on anything so beautiful. The first room that she entered was ornamented with innumerable mirrors, where she saw herself reflected on every side. Then a bracelet, hanging from a chandelier, caught her eye. On it she found a portrait of her charming knight, just as she had seen him in her sleep. Could she fail to recognise him? His features were already far too deeply engraven on her mind, and perhaps too in her heart. With joyous haste she placed the bracelet on her arm, heedless of whether it were the right thing to do or not.

From this room she passed into a gallery full of pictures, where she again found a portrait of the same person, this time of the size of life, which seemed to regard her with such gentle attention that she blushed, just as though this painting had been the very person himself, or as though it had divined her thoughts. Continuing her walk, she found herself in a hall filled with different kinds of instruments. Knowing how to play on almost all of them, she tried several, preferring the harpsichord to the others, as it formed a better accompaniment to her voice. Thence she entered a second gallery, similar to that which contained the paintings. It proved to be an immense library. She loved reading ; but, ever since her stay in the country, she had been deprived of this pleasure, as her father had been obliged to sell all his books at the time of his financial catastrophe. Here, at any rate, she could indulge her taste to her heart's content, and her passion for study would prevent her feeling lonely in the solitude of the palace. The day was over ere she had had time to glance at everything. At the approach of night, all the rooms were lighted with perfumed candles, set in candelabra, which were either transparent or variegated, and made, not of crystal, but of diamonds and rubies.

At the usual hour Beauty found her supper prepared for her. It was served with the same delicacy and daintiness as before. No human being presented itself to her view. Her father had indeed warned her that she would be alone. She was beginning to find this isolation no longer irksome, when, suddenly, the Beast made himself heard. Not having, as yet, found herself alone with him, unable, as she was, to conceive how this interview would end, and fearing that he was coming only in order to devour her, is it any wonder that she trembled ? On the arrival of the Beast, however, Beauty's courage revived, as he appeared to be in no furious mood. The colossal monster at once said to her, in his thick voice—

" Good evening, Beauty."

Beauty returned the salutation in the same terms, with tranquil air, though all the same a little timidly.

Among the different questions which the Beast then put to her was one inquiring how she had amused herself.

" I have spent the whole day," replied Beauty, " in inspecting your palace, but it is so vast that I have not had time to visit all the apartments, or to see all the beauties that they contain."

The Beast then went on

" Do you think you will be able to accustom yourself to living here ? "

To this the young girl replied that she thought it would scarcely be difficult to live in so beautiful an abode. After an hour's conversation on similar topics, Beauty made the discovery that the terrible tone of the monster's voice was attributable only to the nature of his organ of speech, and that the animal was naturally far more inclined to be stupid than to be savage.

Suddenly the Beast asked her if she would allow him to sleep with her.

At this unexpected request, all Beauty's fears were revived. She uttered a terrible shriek, and exclaimed, in spite of herself, " Oh ! Heavens, I am lost ! "

" Have no fear," the Beast quietly replied ; "but without frightening yourself, answer me properly : say precisely yes or no ! "

Trembling, Beauty answered, " No, Beast."

" Well then, since you will not let me," returned the docile creature, " I shall leave you. Good-night, Beauty."

" Good-night, Beast," said the frightened maiden, much relieved.

Extremely happy at having no violence to apprehend, Beauty lay quietly down and went to sleep. At once her dear unknown reappeared to her. He seemed to say in his tender voice—

" How overjoyed I am to see you once again, dear Beauty ; but how your severity has caused me pain I I know I must expect to be unhappy for a long time to come."

Then the vision changed ; at one time she saw the young man presenting her with a crown ; at another, he seemed to be at her feet, either shedding torrents of tears or yielding to excesses of joy. Beauty felt her soul touched to its very depths. This intermingling of joy and sorrow lasted all through the night. On waking, her mind filled with this dear object, she sought for his portrait, in order to compare it with the vision she had seen in her sleep and see that she was not deceiving herself. Then she ran to the gallery, where she recognised him all the more. What a time she remained admiring him ! In the end, as though ashamed of this weakness, she contented herself with looking only at the miniature on her arm.

At length, to put an end to these tender thoughts, she descended into the gardens, where the fine weather invited her to take a stroll. She was enchanted ; never had she seen even in nature anything so beautiful. The groves were adorned with elegant statues and with countless fountains, which rose to such a height that her eye could scarcely follow the jets of water. What surprised her the most, however, was that she seemed to recognise these places as those she had seen in her dream with her unknown. At the sight, especially, of a grand canal, with borders of orange-trees and myrtles, she knew not what to think, and her dream now appeared to her less than ever as a fiction. The only explanation she could arrive at was that the Beast kept someone shut up in his palace. She resolved to enlighten herself on the matter that very evening, by asking the Beast, whose visit she expected at the usual hour. During the rest of the day she walked about, as far as her strength permitted her, but she was far from seeing everything.

The apartments which she had not been able to look through the day before were no less worthy of her admiration than those which she had already viewed. She had seen the rooms containing the musical instruments, the books, and various curiosities. Now she came across a room which was fitted with such things as are necessary for doing various kinds of needlework. There were work-baskets, shuttles for knitting, scissors for cutting out, and machines for sewing. Nothing was wanting. From this room a door opened on to a gallery, whence one obtained the most beautiful view in the world.

In this latter gallery, Beauty found an aviary, containing all sorts of rare birds, who greeted her arrival with a delightful outburst of song. Some of them came and perched on her shoulders, and these loving little creatures vied with each other as to which of them should nestle closest to her.

" Charming little prisoners," she said to them, " I think you all too sweet, and I am only sorry that you are so far away from my room, as otherwise I would often have the pleasure of listening to you."

As she said these words, what was her surprise when, on opening a door, she found herself in her own room ! She had thought that this gallery was very far from there, as she had reached it after many turnings and after traversing the long string of apartments, which formed this pavilion. The panelling, which had prevented her went so far as to use all the arguments he could think of, to induce her to take this step.

"You would be wrong," he said to her, "were you to judge only by your eyes. You have been bidden again and again to let yourself be guided by the promptings of gratitude. You have been assured that happiness is yours, if you follow the dictates of your grateful heart. It is true that it is only in dreams that you receive these warnings ; but these dreams of yours appear to me to be far too significant and to occur far too frequently to attribute them to chance. They seem to promise you many and great advantages ; that should be reason enough to make you overcome your dislike. Therefore, the next time that the Beast asks you to let him sleep with you, I advise you not to refuse him. You admit that he loves you tenderly. Take such measures as are proper to ensure the regularity of your union. It is far better to have a husband of a kindly disposition than one whose sole recommendation is a handsome face. How many girls there are who are made to marry wealthy brutes—creatures far more stupid than the Beast, who is one in feature only, and by no means one, if we judge him by his feelings and his actions."

Beauty admitted the justice of all these arguments. But to resolve to accept as her husband a monster so horrible in face and form, whose mind was as coarse as his body, was a thing she felt it would be impossible for her to do.

" How bring myself," she replied to her father, " to take for husband one for whom I never can have any sympathy, and whose ugliness is in no way compensated for by the gift of conversation ? Nothing to interest me ! Nothing to relieve the monotony of a disagreeable companionship ! Not even the pleasure of short absences to look forward to ! All my pleasure to be limited to five or six questions regarding my health or my appetite. Then to see our fantastic conversation broken off with a ' Good night, Beauty,' a refrain that my parrots know by heart, and which they repeat a hundred times a day. A union such as that would be more than I could endure, and I would liefer die once for all and at once, than go on dying every day of fright and sorrow, of disgust and weariness. Nothing pleads in the Beast's favour, beyond the short visit that he has the attention to pay me once in every twenty-four hours. Is that enough to inspire me with love ? "

The father admitted that his daughter was right, although he could not believe that the Beast was as stupid as she represented him to be, considering his many acts of kindness towards them both. The good order, abundance, and refinement, which were conspicuous in every part of his palace, were scarcely, to his thinking, the marks of an imbecile owner. He even went so far as to find the monster worthy of his daughter's consideration, and he could not help fancying that Beauty would have been inclined to listen to him, had not her nocturnal lover appeared to place an obstacle in the way. The comparison she drew between her two lovers could hardly be favourable to the Beast, and the old man himself was fully aware of the vast difference that existed between them. He endeavoured, however, by all the means in his power, to induce her to overcome her repugnance. He recalled to her mind the counsels of the lady who had warned her not to let herself be guided by appearances only, and whose language seemed to imply that this youth would only make her miserable.

It is easier to reason with love than to conquer it. Beauty did not feel capable of yielding to the pressing instances of her father, who was obliged to leave her without having been able to persuade her. Night, already far advanced, reminded her of her fatigue, and she was not sorry when the departure of her father whom she had been delighted to see once more left her at liberty to retire. She was glad to be alone. Her sleep-laden eyelids inspired her with the hope that she was soon to see again her dearly cherished lover. She was all impatient to taste this sweet pleasure. Her heart beat with joy and tender solicitude at the thought of the approaching interview. But her overwrought imagination, while it represented to her scenes and places where she had been used to hold sweet converse with her dear unknown, was wholly unable to conjure up his form in a way she so ardently desired. Many a time she awoke and many a time she relapsed into slumber, but not a cupid fluttered round her bed. In a word, instead of a slumber filled with the sweet visions and innocent amusement that she had expected, the night was for her one of interminable length and endless anxiety. The like of it she had never known in the palace of the Beast, and it was with a certain mixture of satisfaction and impatience that she beheld day break at last, which ended, for a while, her cruel disappointment.

Her father, enriched by the Beast's liberality, had left his country home, in order to facilitate the marriage of his daughters. He now dwelt in a large city, where his newly acquired fortune had attracted to him many new friends, or rather new acquaintances. The news of his youngest daughter's return soon spread among the persons whom he was in the habit of seeing. Everyone evinced a great impatience to see her, and when they saw her, all were as greatly charmed with her wit as with her person. The peaceful days she had spent in the deserted palace, the innocent pleasures which a gentle slumber had invariably procured her, the thousand amusements which had rapidly succeeded one another, so as to spare her a moment's dullness, all the care and attention, in short, that the monster had bestowed upon her, had combined to render her far more fascinating and beautiful than she had been on the day that her father first parted with her.

She was the admiration of all who saw her. Her sisters' suitors, without deigning to make the slightest excuse for their lack of constancy, fell in love with her. One and all, attracted by the magic of her charms, they abandoned their former mistresses, without a scruple and without a blush. But Beauty remained unmoved by the marked attentions of her adorers, and neglected naught that might induce them to return to the first objects of their affection. In spite, however, of all her care, she found herself unable to escape the jealousy of her sisters.

These volatile lovers, far from concealing their infatuation, had every day some fete or entertainment to propose, in the hope of finding opportunity of making love to her. They even begged her to present the prizes in the games which they wished to get up in her honour. But Beauty, who could not be blind to the mortification she was causing her sisters, and who yet was unwilling to entirely decline the favour they implored of her so ardently and in so flattering a manner, found a means of satisfying them all, by declaring that she would, alternately with her sisters, be pleased to present prizes to be competed for. What she selected was a flower, or some similar simple thing. She left to her elder sisters the glory of giving, when their turns came, costly jewels, diamond crowns, rich armour, and superb bracelets—presents which her liberal hand supplied to them, and for which she would take no credit. The treasures lavished on her by the monster left her in need of nothing. She divided amongst her sisters all the rarest and most beautiful of the things she had brought with her. Giving nothing but trifles herself, and leaving to them the satisfaction of giving largely, she hoped to secure for her sisters the hearts of the youths by ties of love and gratitude. But these lovers were set upon gaining her heart alone, and the little things she gave them were far more precious to them than the many and costly gifts heaped upon them by the others.

The pleasures she thus enjoyed in the midst of her family, though of a far quieter kind than those she had experienced in the home of the Beast, were yet sufficient to entertain her, without causing her any feelings of ennui. At the same time, however, neither the satisfaction of seeing her father, to whom she was devoted, nor the joy of being with her brothers, who endeavoured, in a hundred different ways, to prove to her all the extent of their affections for her, nor the delight of conversing with her sisters, of whom she was very fond, although they were not so of her, could prevent her regretting her agreeable dreams. Her unknown—how grievous for her !—came not in her father's home to visit her as was formerly his wont, in her sleep, and hold sweet converse with her. The court paid her by those, who had once been her sisters' lovers, was in no way a compensation for the loss of this most pleasing illusion. Had her nature been such as to feel flattered by such conquests, she would still have found an immense difference between the attentions they paid to her, as well as those of the Beast, and the devotion of the charming unknown.

Beauty repaid, indeed, the assiduous attentions of these suitors with the utmost indifference. But when she perceived that, in spite of her lack of interest, each was obstinately bent on outrivalling the other in his endeavours to prove to her the intensity of his passion, she deemed it her duty to make them all clearly understand that they were wasting their time. The first she tried to undeceive happened to be the one who had been the aspirant to her eldest sister's hand. She told him that she had only returned home in order to be present at the weddings of her sisters, especially at her eldest sister's, and that she was going to urge her father to arrange that it took place as soon as possible. Beauty found, however, that she had to deal with a man who no longer saw any charm in her sister. For her alone it was that he sighed, and coldness, disdain, the threat to depart before the two months had expired, were of no avail against his ardour. Greatly distressed at the non-success of her attempt, she proceeded to hold similar conversations with the others, only to have the mortification of finding them just as equally infatuated. To complete her vexation, her unjust sisters, who looked upon her only in the light of a rival, conceived a violent hatred for her—a hatred which they were quite powerless to dissemble. More still was in store for her ; for, whilst Beauty was deploring the all too great effect of her charms, she had the misery of learning that her new adorers—each, in their mutual jealousy and rivalry, regarding the other as the cause of his own rejection—were bent, in the maddest possible way, on fighting it out among themselves. All these annoyances induced her to form her plans for returning sooner than she had intended. Her father and her brothers did all they could to detain her. But constant to her word and firm in her resolution, neither the tears of the one nor the entreaties of the others were able to dissuade her from her purpose. All that they could obtain of her was to postpone her departure as long as she could.

The two months were now well-nigh expired, and though every morning Beauty made up her mind to bid farewell to her family, every evening found her without the heart to do so. In the combat between affection and gratitude, she felt it was impossible to follow one without doing injustice to the other. In the midst of this embarrassment, it needed nothing less than a dream to bring her to a decision. One night, as she lay asleep, she fancied she was back in the palace of the Beast. She saw herself walking in a remote and secluded avenue, the end of which was barred by a bramble thicket. This thicket concealed the entrance to a cave, from whose depths proceeded the most appalling groans, which she recognised as the voice of the Beast. She at once hastened to his aid. The monster, whom, in her dream, she saw stretched full-length upon the ground, and apparently in a dying condition, reproached her with being the cause of his unhappy state, and accused her of having repaid his love by the blackest ingratitude. She then perceived the lady whom she had already seen in her dreams, who said to her, in a severe tone, that if she had hesitated much longer about fulfilling her promises, very little would have been wanting to bring about her own destruction ; that she had pledged her word to the Beast to return to him in two months' time ; that the two months were expired ; that had she delayed her departure a day longer, the Beast would have died ; that the trouble her presence was causing in her father's house, and the hatred her sisters bore towards her, ought to make her only too anxious to depart, and all the more willingly, as in the palace of the Beast everything was arranged for her delight and pleasure.

Beauty, alarmed by this dream, and terrified at the idea of being the cause of the Beast's death, awoke with a start, and went forthwith to inform her family that she could defer her departure no longer. This piece of news produced various effects. Her father allowed his tears to speak for him. Her brothers protested vigorously that they would never allow her to go. Her many admirers, in their despair, swore that they would never leave the house. Her sisters alone, so far from being distressed at the idea of her going, did nothing but laud her good faith and loyalty. Assuming the air of possessing these virtues themselves, they had the audacity to assert that if, like Beauty, they had pledged their word to the Beast, they would never allow the question of his ugliness to interfere with their sense of duty, and that they should, long since, have returned to the marvellous palace. It was thus that they endeavoured to disguise the cruel jealousy that rankled in their hearts. Beauty, however, was charmed by their expressions of generosity, and thought only of convincing her brothers and her admirers of the necessity she was under of leaving them. Her brothers loved her too well to consent to her going, and her admirers were far too infatuated to listen to reason. As all of them were completely ignorant of the way in which Beauty had arrived at her father's, and as no one suspected that the horse, which had conveyed her on the first occasion to the palace of the Beast, would return again to fetch her, they decided amongst themselves to do everything in their power to prevent her going. Her sisters, who made a parade of sorrow merely to hide their delight, were terribly frightened at this. Very anxiously they watched the moment for her departure drawing near, fearing lest their brothers should accomplish their design and prevent Beauty from leaving. But the latter, firm in her resolutions, as she recognised the voice of duty, and having no time to lose if she would prolong the existence of her friend the Beast, took leave, as soon as night had come, of all the different members of her family, and of all those who interested themselves in her destiny. She assured them that, notwithstanding any steps they might take to prevent her, she would be with the Beast on the morning of the following day, long before they were up ; that it would be quite useless to attempt to stop her, as she was bent on returning to the enchanted palace.

Beauty then retired. Before getting into bed, she did not forget to turn her ring. She slept for long, awaking only as the clock struck midday, and chimed out her name. By this musical sound she knew that her wishes were accomplished. Just as she was about to get up, she saw herself surrounded by the many creatures who had before waited upon her. They showed their eagerness to serve her again, and evinced the greatest satisfaction at her return, as they related to her the sorrow that her long absence had caused them.

This day seemed to Beauty longer than any she had previously spent in the palace. Not that she regretted the society of those she had left. But she was impatient to see the Beast again, and she felt I prepared to do everything that was possible to atone for her conduct. She was animated also by another desire—that, namely, of renewing in her dreams the charming conversations she had had of old with the unknown. During the two months she had just spent with her family, she had been deprived of this pleasure, which was only to be experienced within the precincts of this palace.

The Beast, in short, and the unknown, were never absent from her mind. Turn by turn, they formed the subject of her reflections. At one moment she reproached herself for not being able to return the affection of a lover, who, though disguised as a monster, displayed so noble a soul ; at another moment she felt sad at having set her heart upon a purely visionary object—one that had no existence except in the land of her dreams. She was filled with doubt as to whether she (l should not rather prefer the very real affection of the Beast to this ' phantom love. The dreams in which she saw her charming unknown were always accompanied by warnings which bade her not to trust to her eyes alone. She feared it would all prove nothing but an empty delusion, born of the mists of dreams, and destined to die at the dawn of day.

Ever thus undecided, hovering between her love for the unknown and her reluctance to displease the Beast, Beauty determined to seek I respite from her thoughts in some entertainment. She went to the Comédie Française ; but she found it very dull. Abruptly shutting the window, she tried the Opera. The music appeared to be wretched. The Italian Opera was equally unable to amuse her. She found the piece insipid, and wanting in wit and action. Ennui and satiety pursued her everywhere, and prevented her taking pleasure in anything. The gardens had no attraction for her. The members of her court did their best to distract her, but their merry gambols, their amusing chattering, and their sweet song, were all alike in vain. She was lost in a whirlwind of impatience to receive the visit of the Beast, whose roar she expected every moment to hear. At length the longed-for hour arrived, but with it came no Beast. Alarmed and almost angry at this delay, she thought of everything that could account for his absence. Divided between hope and fear, with agitated mind and her heart in the grip of melancholy, she descended into the gardens. She was resolved not to re-enter the palace until she had found the Beast. She searched for him in every spot, but she could find no trace of him whatever. She called him aloud ; her echo alone repeated his name. Having passed upwards of three hours in this exercise, that was far from amusing, she sank, exhausted, upon a seat. She imagined that either the Beast was dead, or that he had abandoned the spot. She saw herself alone in the palace, without a hope of ever leaving it. She could not help regretting the interviews she had had with the Beast, all unentertaining though they had been ; and what appeared to her extraordinary was the feeling of tenderness she could not help perceiving she entertained for the 7 monster. She reproached herself for not having wedded him, and she accused herself of being the cause of his death, which she feared her prolonged absence had brought about. In short, she heaped upon herself the most bitter reproaches. In the midst of these gloomy thoughts, she suddenly perceived that she was in that very avenue which, on the last night she had passed under her father's roof, she had seen in a dream, and which then appeared to lead to a strange cavern, where the Beast lay dying. Convinced that it was not chance alone that had conducted her here, she guided her steps to the thicket, which she found was not wholly impenetrable. A moment later she discovered the entrance to a cave, which seemed to be the same as the one she had seen in her dream. As the moon was giving but a feeble light, several of the monkey pages straightway appeared, with a number of torches, which lighted up the entire chasm. There, inside, she saw the Beast. He was stretched upon the ground, and Beauty thought he was asleep. Far from being frightened at the sight of him, she was overjoyed at having found him, and going boldly up to him, she placed her hand upon his head, and called him several times by name. As he remained, however, cold and motionless, she no longer doubted that he was dead, whereupon she began to utter the most mournful cries, and to say the saddest and the most endearing things.

Though assured in her own mind that the Beast was dead, Beauty did not cease making every effort that might recall him to life. Placing her hand on his heart, she was overjoyed to find that it still beat. She wasted no time in vain compliments, but ran out of the cave to a spring close by, from which she took water in her joined hands, and hurrying back with it, sprinkled it over him. As she could only take a little water at a time, and as she could not avoid spilling some of it before reaching him, her efforts to revive him would have been well-nigh unavailing, had not the courteous monkeys, hieing back in all haste to the palace, fetched a bowl in which to carry the water, and brought as well fortifying drinks and other restoratives. These she made him smell and swallow, and such was their admirable effect, that in a very little while he began to move, and shortly afterwards he returned to consciousness. With voice and caresses she cheered him so that he soon recovered.

" What anxious moments you have caused me ! " she said to him. " I did not know that I loved you so fondly. The fear I was in of losing you has proved to me that I was attached to you by ties stronger than those of gratitude. I swear to you that I had made up my mind to die, if I did not bring you back to life."

At words so tender the Beast felt himself completely revived, though his voice was still feeble as he answered her.

" It is good of you, Beauty, to love a monster who is so ugly. But you do well. You are more dear to me than life itself. I thought you would never come back. It would have been my death. But now that you love me, I am going to live. Now go and rest yourself, and be fully assured that you are going to be as happy as your good heart deserves."

Beauty had never heard the Beast make such a long speech before. It was scarcely eloquent, but it pleased her on account of the gentleness and sincerity she discerned in it. She had expected a scolding, or at least reproaches. From that moment she formed a better opinion of the Beast's character ; she ceased to think him stupid ; she even regarded the shortness of his answers as a sign of prudence. More than ever prepossessed in his favour, she retired to her own room, her mind filled with the most flattering ideas. In her chamber she found all kinds of refreshments, which were most welcome to her, as she was very fatigued. Her sleep-laden eyelids promised her an agreeable night's rest. She was no sooner in bed than asleep, and her dear unknown presented himself forthwith. How many and how tender were the things he said to her, in his expressions of joy at seeing her again ! He assured her that she would be happy ; that all she had to do was to follow the dictates of her unselfish heart. Beauty asked him if her happiness depended on her marrying the Beast. The unknown replied that it could be secured in no other way. Beauty at this was shocked. She thought it extraordinary that her lover should advise her to do an act that would make his rival happy. This dream over, she had another, in which she saw the Beast dead, and stretched at her feet. An instant afterwards the unknown appeared, but he disappeared again immediately, giving place to the Beast. But what she saw the most distinctly was the lady, who seemed to say to her—

" I am pleased with you. Continue to obey the dictates of your reason. Do not be anxious about anything, for I undertake to make you happy."

Beauty then, although fast asleep, found herself distinguishing between the state of her feelings for the unknown and for the Beast. For the former she felt the strongest inclination, while for the latter she could not divest herself of a certain feeling of repugnance, as she thought of his general aspect and person. The lady smiled at her scruples, and bade her not to make herself uneasy on the score of her affection for the unknown, since the sympathy she felt for him was not incompatible with the intention she had of doing her duty. She added that she could follow her inclination without let or hindrance, and that her happiness would be complete when she was wedded to the Beast.

This dream, which came to an end only when she awoke, made her reflect long and calmly. In it, as in those that had preceded it, she noticed there was far more coherence than is met with usually in dreams. This fact determined her to consent to this unnatural union. But the image of the unknown kept coming to her mind and causing her pain. It was the only obstacle, but it was by no means a slight one. Still in an uncertain frame of mind, she betook herself to the Opera ; but she could not get rid of her embarrassment. On her return from the theatre, she sat down to supper. The arrival of the Beast alone was capable of bringing her to a decision.

Far from reproaching her for being so long away, the monster as though the pleasure of seeing her had made him forget all his past troubles appeared, on entering her room, to have no other desire but that of asking her if she had been well amused, how she had been received at home, and whether her general health had been good or otherwise. She answered all the questions he put to her, and she gently added that she had indeed paid dearly for all the pleasures his care had enabled her to enjoy, since she had had the cruel pain of finding him on her return in so sad a state.

Tersely the Beast thanked her. Then, as he was about to take his leave, he put to her the usual question—

"Will you let me sleep with you?"

Beauty was silent a little while before replying. Then, having made up her mind, she replied, in a trembling voice—

" Yes, Beast, I will let you, provided you pledge me your troth, and I give you mine."

"I pledge it you," answered the Beast; "and I promise to have no other wife but you."

" Then," said Beauty, " I accept you for my husband, and I swear to be faithful and loving to you always."

She had scarcely pronounced these words when a discharge of artillery was heard. Running to her window, Beauty saw that all the sky was ablaze with light, caused by the sudden illumination of more than twenty thousand different kinds of fireworks. There could be no doubt that the display was a sign of great rejoicing. It lasted for more than three hours, during which time Beauty saw, amidst the innumerable rockets, many true-lover's knots, and escutcheons bearing her initials, interwoven with those of the Beast, under which, in well-defined letters, were the words, " Long live Beauty and her Bridegroom." When this interesting sight had lasted a sufficient space, the Beast intimated to his bride that it was time they betook themselves to bed.

However slight was Beauty's impatience to find herself by the side of her most singular mate, she nevertheless got into bed. The lights went out immediately. Beauty could not help fearing that the enormous weight of the Beast's body would crush in the bed. She was agreeably astonished to find that the monster placed himself at her side with as much ease and agility as she had herself sprung into bed. Her surprise was greater still on hearing him begin to snore forthwith ; presently his silence convinced her that he was in a profound sleep.

Accustomed though she was to see the most extraordinary things, she was greatly astonished. But after spending several moments in reflection, she turned to go to sleep herself. She was satisfied by the thought that this sudden falling asleep of her companion was but another of the many mysteries that occurred in this palace. She was no sooner in the arms of Morpheus than her dear unknown paid her his accustomed visit. He appeared gayer than he had ever been, and he was far more richly attired than was his wont.

" How grateful I am to you, adorable Beauty ! " he said to her. "You have released me from a frightful prison, where for many a long day I have been languishing. Your marriage with the Beast will not only restore a king to his subjects, but a son to his mother, and renewed life and prosperity to a whole kingdom. We are all going to be so happy."

At these words, Beauty felt deeply wounded, and her mortification was great on perceiving that the unknown, so far from evincing the despair she expected her new engagement with the Beast would have caused him, gazed at her with eyes that expressed boundless delight. She was about to express her disappointment when the lady, in her turn, appeared to her.

" Behold you now victorious, Beauty," she said. " To you we . owe everything, since you have been so brave as to let your gratitude 1 triumph over every other feeling. No one but you would have had the courage to have done what you have done—sacrifice your inclination in order to keep your word, and expose your life to save you father's. In return for this, be assured that no one can ever hope to attain to such happiness as is in store for you, which your virtuous conduct has won you. At present you know but the smallest part of it ; but with the rising sun you shall know more."

When the lady had gone, Beauty again beheld the youth, but stretched on the ground as dead. All the night passed in similar dreams. She was becoming accustomed to agitations of this kind, and they did not prevent her sleeping long and soundly. It was broad daylight when she awoke. The sunlight streamed into her room more brightly than was usual, and she perceived that the apes had not closed the shutters. Then she turned her eyes in the direction of the Beast. The sight that met her made her think at first that she was still dreaming and not yet awakened from her sleep. Her surprise and joy were boundless when she had no longer any reason to doubt the reality of what she saw.

The night before she had contrived to place herself at the very edge of the bed, thinking she could not leave room enough for her unwieldy mate. He had snored at first, but she remembered that just before she fell asleep herself he had ceased doing so. The silence he had preserved when she awoke made her fancy that he was no longer beside her, and she imagined that he must have already got up. In order to ascertain the truth for herself, she turned round with the greatest precaution, and was agreeably surprised to find, instead of the monster, her charming unknown lover.

He looked a thousand times more handsome now than he had ever done in her dreams. To assure herself that it was really the same person, Beauty arose from bed, and fetched from her toilet-table the portrait that she usually wore upon her wrist. The comparison showed her she had made no mistake. Filled with wonder, she began to speak to him, in the hope of arousing him from the trance in which he appeared to be enveloped. Her voice proving ineffectual, she shook him gently by the arm. The effort was equally unavailing, and only served to convince her that he was under the influence of some enchantment. She then resolved to await the end of the charm, which it was only natural to suppose had an appointed period.

Being alone she was in no fear of scandalising anyone by the liberties she took with his person. Besides, was he not her husband ? So, giving free course to her tender feelings, she kissed him three times. Then she decided to wait patiently until this strange lethargy should end. How charmed she was to find herself united to that object which alone had caused her to hesitate between duty and affection ! How pleasant it was to find that in yielding to her conscience, she had been able also to follow her inclination ! She no longer doubted the promises of happiness that had been made to her in her dreams. She now recognised that what the lady had said to her was true, and that there was nothing incompatible in having at the same time a love for the unknown and an affection for the Beast, since they were one and the same person.

Meanwhile, however, her spouse did not awake. After partaking of a little food, she endeavoured to pass away the time by occupying herself with her usual morning occupations. But everything was now indifferent to her. As she was unwilling to leave her chamber, she took up some music, so as not to remain idle, and began to sing. Her birds, at the sound of her voice, joined in the concert, which was all the more charming, as Beauty expected every moment to see it interrupted by the return of her husband to consciousness, for she nattered herself that the enchantment might be broken by the sound of her rich harmonious voice.

The spell, indeed, was soon broken, but not in the way she had expected. Suddenly the unfamiliar sound of a carriage was heard, rolling beneath the windows of her apartment. Presently Beauty heard the voices of several persons, who appeared to be coming up the stairs. At the same instant, the ape who was captain of her guard announced, by means of the parrot who acted as his interpreter, the visit of several ladies. From her window Beauty saw the carriage that had brought them. It was of an entirely novel description and of quite unrivalled beauty of form. Attached to the vehicle were four white stags, with hoofs and horns of gold, and whose harness was superb. The singularity of the equipage only increased Beauty's eagerness to become acquainted with those to whom it belonged.

By the noise, which every moment became louder, Beauty perceived that the ladies were approaching. As soon as she reckoned that they had reached the antechamber, she thought it would be only right of her to go and receive them. She found that there were two ladies. One she recognised as the lady she had been accustomed to see in her dreams. The other was no less beautiful. Her noble and distinguished bearing clearly showed that she belonged to an illustrious family, and although no longer in the bloom of youth, she had yet so majestic a presence, that Beauty felt uncertain as to whether she should not address her compliments of welcome to her first rather than to the other.

Beauty was still in a state of indecision when the lady, with whose features she was already familiar, and who appeared to exercise some sort of superiority over the other, turned to her companion and said to her—

" Well, Queen, what think you of this beautiful girl ? To her it is that you owe the restoration of your son to life, for you must admit that the miserable circumstances in which he existed could scarcely be called living. Had it not been for her, you would never have seen the prince again, since he would have had to remain for ever in the horrible shape into which he had been transformed. Fortunately, however, there was found a maiden whose virtue and courage equalled her beauty. I little doubt but that you will be very pleased to see your son become the husband of the girl to whom he owes his restoration to life. They love each other dearly, and nothing but your consent is wanting to make them perfectly happy. Will you refuse it to them ? "

The Queen, at these words, embraced Beauty affectionately and exclaimed—

" Far from refusing my consent to their union, my own happiness depends on its taking place. Good and charming girl, to whom I am so much indebted, tell me who you are, and the name of the sovereigns who have had the good fortune to give birth to so perfect a princess ? "

" My lady," replied Beauty modestly, " it is long since I had a mother. My father is a merchant, better known in the world for his upright conduct and his misfortunes than for any nobility of birth."

At this frank speech, the Queen, astonished, stepped back a pace and said—

" What ! you are only a merchant's daughter! Ah, great Fairy ! " she added, as she cast a mortified look in the direction of her companion. This was all she said, but her looks expressed what she thought, and her disappointment was legible in her eyes.

" It seems to me," said the Fairy haughtily to her, " that you are not contented with my choice. You appear to look contemptuously on this young girl on account of her origin, and yet she was the only maiden in the world who was capable of executing my plans, and of making your son happy."

" I am more than grateful to her," replied the Queen, " for all she has done. But all the same, most powerful Fairy, I cannot refrain from pointing out to you how unnatural would be the mixture of the blood which runs in my son's veins—the noblest in the world—with that from which this young girl has sprung. I confess that I am but little flattered if the Prince's happiness is to be purchased at the price of an alliance as degrading for me as it is altogether unworthy of him. In searching throughout the whole world, would it not be possible to find a maiden whose good qualities were more on a par with her birth ? I know by name many a most estimable princess ; may I not be allowed to see him become the suitor to one of them ? "

They had reached this point in their conversation when the handsome unknown made his appearance. He had been awakened by the arrival of his mother and the Fairy, the noise that they made having had more effect upon him than all the efforts of Beauty. It was thus that the nature of the spell had willed it. The Queen held him for a long while clasped in her arms, without proffering a word. A son had been restored to her—a son whose noble qualities made him worthy of all her affection. What joy for the Prince to find himself freed of his odious face and from a stupidity that was all the more intolerable, in that it had not obscured his reason, but was only assumed. By means of the object of his love he had regained the right of appearing in his proper form again. This reflection did not render her less endearing to him.

When the first transports of joy, which the sight of his mother had caused him, were over, the Prince hastened to obey the voice of duty and gratitude, by returning thanks to the Fairy. This he did in the most courteous terms, albeit briefly, so as to be at liberty to devote his attentions to Beauty. Already, by his tender looks, he had conveyed to her all he felt towards her, and in order to confirm by words what his eyes had expressed, he was about to say the most touching things to her, when the Fairy stopped him, signifying that she wished him to act as judge between her and his mother.

" Your mother," said she, " condemns the engagement you have entered into with Beauty, considering that she is too far beneath you by birth. I, for my part, maintain that her virtues amply compensate for any inequalities in that quarter. It is for you, Prince, to say with which of us your own feelings most coincide ; and that you may be under no constraint in declaring what your real sentiments are to us, I bid you rest assured that no pressure of any kind will be brought to bear upon you. Although you may have pledged your word to this charming person, you are completely at liberty to take it back, if you wish so to do. I stand guarantee that Beauty, without the least hesitation, will release you from your promise, albeit by her means alone it is that you have been enabled to resume you natural shape. I assure you too that her disinterestedness and generosity will go so far as to leave you entirely free to bestow your hand on whomsoever the Queen may advise you to bestow it. ... What say you, Beauty ? " pursued the Fairy, as she turned in her direction. "Have I expressed your sentiments aright? You would not care to have for husband one who became so against his will?"

"Assuredly not, my lady," replied Beauty. "The Prince is free. I renounce the honour of becoming his bride. When I plighted my troth to him, I was under the impression that I was taking pity on something that was inferior to a man. I engaged myself to him only in the intent of conferring a very special favour on him. Ambition had no place in my thoughts. I implore you, therefore, mighty Fairy, to exact nothing of the Queen, in a matter in which it would be impossible for me to blame her scruples."

"Well, Queen, what do you say to that?" said the Fairy, in a displeased and scornful tone. "Think you that princesses, who are such only by the caprice of fortune, are any more worthy of the high rank in which their destiny has placed them than this young person ? For my part, I think it wrong to hold her responsible for her origin, for which her virtuous conduct is an ample compensation."

" Beauty is incomparable," replied the Queen, not without embarrassment. " Her merit is infinite ; nothing can surpass it. But, madame, can we not reward her in some other way ? Surely it is possible to do this without sacrificing the hand of my son."

Then turning towards Beauty, she went on, " Yes, Beauty, I owe you more than I can pay, more than I can possibly express. I put no limit to your demands. Ask therefore fearlessly ; with the exception of this one thing, I will grant you everything. For you the difference will not be great. Choose out a husband from among the lords of my court. However high his rank, he will have cause to bless his good fortune, and for your sake I will place him so near the throne, that there will be but little difference."

" I thank you very deeply, my lady," replied Beauty, " but I have no right to expect a reward from you. The pleasure of having been the means of breaking a spell which deprived a mother of her son, and a kingdom of its prince, has of itself more than repaid me. My happiness would have been perfect if it had been to my own sovereign that I had rendered this service. All that I ask is that the Fairy may deign to send me back to my father."

The Prince, who by order of the Fairy, had remained silent throughout this conversation, was unable to restrain his feelings any longer ; even his respect for the sorry orders he had received was powerless to master his agitation. Throwing himself at the feet of the Fairy and his mother, he implored them, in the strongest possible language, not to make him more wretched than he had been, which would be the case if they sent Beauty away, thus depriving him of the happiness of becoming her husband. At this, Beauty, gazing at him full tenderly, yet at the same time maintaining an attitude of noble self-respect, said to him—

" I am unable, Prince, to conceal from you the affection I bear you. Your disenchantment is a proof of it, and it would be vain for t me to attempt to disguise my feelings. Without a blush I confess that I love you more than I love myself. Why should I dissemble ? It is ' only evil impulses that we should disown. Mine are entirely innocent, and are authorised by the generous Fairy to whom we both owe so much. But if I was able to bring myself to sacrifice my feelings, when I believed my duty called me to give myself to the Beast, you may be assured that I shall not falter on this occasion, when it is no longer the interest of the Beast that is at stake, but your own. It is enough for to know who you are and to remember who I am, to make me renounce for ever the honour of becoming your wife. I dare even to say that, should the Queen, yielding to your entreaties, grant the consent you ask, it would in no way alter the matter, since you would find an insurmountable obstacle in my reason and even in the love I bear you I repeat, I ask for no other favour than permission to return to the bosom of my family, where I shall ever cherish the remembrance of your bounty and of your love."

" Generous Fairy," exclaimed the Prince, as he clasped his hands in supplication, " take pity on me ; I beseech you, do not let Beauty go ; or else give me back my monstrous form again, for then, at least, I should remain her husband. She has plighted her troth to the Beast, and I would rather enjoy that single advantage than partake of all the pleasures of my new existence, without her gentle presence near me."

The Fairy made no answer. She fixed her steadfast gaze upon the Queen, who was touched by these marks of true affection, but whose pride remained unshaken. She was in despair at her son's distress, and yet she was unable to forget that Beauty was a merchant's daughter. She dreaded the anger of the Fairy, whose manner and whose silence sufficiently testified to her indignation. Her embarrassment was extreme. Without the power to say a word, she feared to see a fatal termination to the conference, because of the wrath of the protecting spirit. For some moments no one spoke. At length the Fairy broke the silence, and casting an affectionate look in the direction of the lovers, she said to them—

" I find you worthy of each other. It would be a crime to dream of separating you. You will remain united ; it is I who promise that it shall be so, and I have sufficient power to perform what I say."

The Queen shuddered at these words ; she opened her mouth to make some observation, but the Fairy anticipated her by saying to her

" For you, Queen, the little value that you set upon virtue, unadorned by empty titles, which is all that you esteem, would justify me in heaping the bitterest reproaches upon you. But I pardon you your fault, on account of the pride which your rank inspires in you, and I shall take no other vengeance beyond doing this little violence to your prejudices, for which it will not be long before you return me thanks."

Beauty, at these words, embraced the Fairy's knees, and cried—

" Oh I Expose me not to the pain of having to hear all my life that I am unworthy of the rank to which your bounty would raise me. Reflect that the Prince, who at present thinks that his happiness consists in the possession of my hand, may very shortly be of the same opinion as the Queen."

" No, no, Beauty, fear nothing," replied the Fairy. " The evils you anticipate cannot come to pass. I know a sure way of protecting you from them. Even should the Prince be capable of despising you after having wedded you, he would have to seek some other motive for doing so than in the inequality of your condition. Your birth is not inferior to his own. Nay, the advantage is even very considerably on your side ; for the truth is," she added, turning proudly to the Queen, " that Beauty is no other than your niece, and what should render her still more worthy of your regard, is that she is my niece as well, being the child of my sister, who did not, like you, worship rank, when virtue was absent from it. This Fairy, then, knowing how precious was true worth, did the King of the Happy Islands, your brother, the honour of marrying him! I preserved the fruit of this union from the fury of another Fairy, who wanted to be the child's step-mother. From the moment of her birth I destined her for the hand of your son, and I desired, while concealing from you the result of this good service of mine, to give you an opportunity of showing your confidence in me. I was not without reasons for thinking that it would have been greater than it has been. You might have remembered how I have already watched over the destiny of the Prince. I had given you proofs enough of the interest I took in him, and you had no grounds for fearing that I was going to expose him to anything that would be disgraceful to himself or to you. I am persuaded, madame," she continued, with a smile, in which there was still a touch of irony, " that you will not want to urge your dissatisfaction any further, and that you will be pleased to honour us with your alliance."

The Queen, confounded and astonished, knew not what to reply. The only way to repair what she had done was to frankly acknowledge her error, and show how greatly she regretted it.

" I am very much at fault, generous Fairy," she said. " The many bounties I have already received at your hands should indeed have convinced me that you would not have allowed my son to contract an alliance that was unworthy of him. I beseech you to pardon in me the prejudices of my rank and birth, which bade me remember that a Prince of royal blood could not commit a misalliance without shame. I deserve, I know, no less a punishment than that you should give to Beauty a mother-in-law more worthy of her. But you take too kind an interest in my son to make him suffer for a fault of mine.

" As for you, dear Beauty," she continued, as she embraced the young girl, " you must not think too ill of me for my resistance. It was alone due to the desire I had to marry my son to my niece, whom the Fairy had assured me was living, in spite of every appearance to the contrary. She had drawn me so charming a picture of her that, not knowing you, I loved her so dearly as to run the risk of offending the Fairy, so as to preserve to her the throne and the heart of my son." So saying, she recommenced her caresses, which Beauty received with all respect.

The Prince, on his side, was delighted at this piece of news, and expressed his joy by the tenderest regards.

" Now we are all contented," said the Fairy, " and the only thing that is wanting, to end this happy adventure, is the consent of the King, the father of the Princess ; but it will not be long before he is here."

Beauty then begged the Fairy to permit the person who had brought her up, and whom she had hitherto regarded as her father, to be present to witness her good fortune.

" I love to see such consideration for others," replied the Fairy. " It is worthy of a noble mind, and since you desire it, I undertake to see that he is informed."

Then the Fairy took the Queen by the hand and led her away, under the pretext of showing her over the enchanted palace, but in reality in order to allow the newly-married couple to converse with each other, without constraint, and, for the first time, without the aid of illusion. They would have followed, but the Fairy forbade them. The happiness in store for them inspired them with an equal delight, and they were in no doubt as to their mutual fondness for each other.

Their conversation, confused and disconnected, their protestations of affection, a hundred times repeated, were to them more convincing proofs of their love than the most eloquent language. After having exhausted all the expressions that sincere affection inspires, under such circumstances, to those whose hearts are truly touched, Beauty inquired of her lover the nature of the misfortune that had so cruelly metamorphosed him into a Beast. She also begged him to relate to her all the events of his life which had preceded that inhuman transformation.

The Prince, who, though changed in feature, was no less eager to comply with her wishes than formerly, commenced, without more ado, the following narration.

The King, my father, died before I came into the world. The Queen would have been inconsolable at his loss, had not her interest in the child in her womb caused her to combat with her sorrow. My birth was for her a joy extreme, and the pleasure she took in rearing the offspring of so dearly-loved a husband made her forget her great affliction. The care of my education and the fear she was in of losing me, occupied all her time and attention. She was seconded in her task by a Fairy of her acquaintance, who evinced the utmost eagerness to preserve me from all kinds of accidents. The Queen felt infinitely obliged to her, though she was scarcely pleased when the Fairy asked her to place me entirely in her hands. This Fairy had not the best of reputations ; it was said that she was capricious in the distribution of her favours. People feared her more than they loved her. But even if my mother had been assured of the goodness of her nature, she could never have brought herself to consent to lose the sight of me.

By the advice, however, of certain prudent persons, and in fear of this vindictive Fairy's resentment, she did not wholly refuse her her request. If she handed me over to her of her own free will, there was no reason for supposing that the Fairy would do me harm. Experience had shown that the latter took pleasure only in hurting those by whom she considered she had been offended. The Queen admitted this, and her reluctance was due only to the thought of being deprived of the pleasure of gazing at me continually ; for her mother's eye discovered charms in me which I owed solely to her partiality.

She was still undecided as to the course she should adopt, when a powerful neighbour imagined that it would be an easy thing to seize upon the dominions of an infant, governed by a woman. He invaded my kingdom with a formidable army. The Queen hastily summoned her forces, and, with a courage far beyond her sex, placed herself at the head of her troops, and marched to the defence of our frontiers. It was then that, being forced to leave me, she determined to entrust the care of my education to the Fairy. I was placed then in her keeping, after she had sworn, in the most solemn way she could, to bring me back, without opposition, to the Court, as soon as the war was ended, which my mother reckoned would be in about a year's time.

In spite, however, of the many victories that my mother won, she found it impossible to return to the capital as soon as she had expected, as, in order to profit by her conquests, she found it necessary to pursue the enemy into his own dominions, after having driven him out of ours. She took entire provinces, won battle after battle, and finally reduced the vanquished monarch to sue for peace on the most degrading terms. He obtained it, but on the hardest conditions. After these brilliant successes, the Queen set out in triumph upon her return journey, looking forward all the while with the keenest joy to seeing me again. Being overtaken, however, while still upon the homeward journey by the news that her late ignoble foe, profiting by her absence, and in violence of every treaty had massacred our garrisons and retaken almost all the places he had been compelled to cede to us, my mother found herself obliged to retrace her steps. Her honour prevailed over her longing to see me, and she resolved never to sheathe sword until she had brought the enemy to such a pass as to make it impossible for him to commit fresh acts of treachery in the future.

The time employed in this second expedition was very considerable. My mother had hoped that two or three campaigns would suffice ; but she found that she had to contend with an adversary as skilful as he was cunning. He contrived to excite rebellion in certain of our provinces, and to corrupt whole battalions, which forced the Queen to remain with her army for no less than fifteen years. She never thought of sending for me, as she was always hoping that each month would prove to be the last that she would have to be away, and that it would not be long before she should see me again.

Meanwhile, the Fairy, in accordance with her promise, had paid every attention to my education. From the day that she took me away from my kingdom, she never left me, and she never ceased to give me proofs of the interest she took in all that concerned my health and my amusement. By the respect I bore her, I showed how grateful I was for all her goodness to me. I had the same deference for her as I should have had for my mother. I was just as eager to please her, and her goodness to me inspired me with the deepest affection for her.

For some time she appeared quite satisfied with my behaviour. But one day she set out upon a journey, the secret of which she never told me, which lasted several years. On her return, she was filled with admiration at the effects of the care she had bestowed upon me, and she began to conceive for me a love which was different from the love of a mother. She had previously permitted me to call her by this name, but now she forbade me to do so. I obeyed, without inquiring into the motives which had induced her to take this step, and without suspecting in the least what it was she desired of me. I saw clearly that she was dissatisfied. But could I imagine why she complained to me continually of my ingratitude ? I was all the more surprised at her reproaches, as I did not think I deserved them. They were always either followed or preceded by the most tender caresses. I had far too little experience to understand them. At length she was compelled to explain her conduct, which she did one day that I had been evincing my sorrow and impatience at the continued absence of the Queen. She reproached me for this ; whereupon I assured her that the love I bore my mother in no way diminished the affection that I had for her. To this she replied that she was not at all jealous, in spite of having done so much for me, and notwithstanding all she had in view to do for me in the future. She then added that, in order that she might have a free hand to carry out the designs she had formed for me, it was necessary for me to marry her ; she said that she did not want me to love her as a other, but as a mistress ; that she had no doubt but that I would receive this proposition with joy, and be filled with gratitude to her for it ; that I had nothing to do but abandon myself to the pleasure of possessing such a powerful Fairy, who would protect me from every danger, assure me an existence full of charm, and cover me with glory.

I was much embarrassed at this proposition. I was sufficiently acquainted with the world to have noticed that amongst married people those were the happiest in whom there existed a certain similarity of age and disposition, whereas many others were much to be pitied, in whom differences of character had excited feelings of mutual antipathy, thus causing endless misery. The Fairy, who was old and ugly and of a haughty disposition, was scarcely such as to make me flatter myself that my future would be as agreeable as she predicted. I was far from entertaining for her such feelings as one ought to entertain for the person with whom one looks forward to pass the rest of one's life. Besides, I was unwilling to enter into any such engagement at so early an age. The only longing I had was to see the Queen again and to signalise myself at the head of her armies. I sighed for my liberty ; it was the only thing I wanted, but it was the one thing that the Fairy would not grant me.

I had often implored her to let me go and share the perils to which I knew the Queen was exposing herself in my interests. But up to that day my prayers had been of no avail. Pressed to reply to the extraordinary avowal she had made to me, I, in no little confusion, begged her to remember how she had often told me that I had no right to dispose of my person in the absence of my mother and without her consent. " That is as I think," she replied. " I would not have you do otherwise ; I desire only that you refer the matter to the Queen."

I have already told you, fair Princess, that I had never been able to obtain from the Fairy permission to go to the Queen, my mother. She was now, however, so eager to have my mother's consent to this match, that she found herself driven to grant me what she had hitherto always refused. But she placed one condition on my going, which was by no means agreeable, which was, that she should accompany me herself. I did all I could to dissuade her, but found it impossible, so we set out together, accompanied by a numerous escort.

It was on the eve of a decisive action that we arrived. The Queen had so well arranged her plans, that the morrow was to decide the fate of the enemy, who, if he lost the battle, would be completely without resource. My presence created the greatest pleasure in the camp, and gave additional courage to our troops, who drew a favourable augury from my arrival. The Queen was ready to die with joy. But, after the first transports, her delight gave way to utmost alarm. Whilst I aspired to attaining both fame and glory, she trembled to think of the danger to which I was about to expose myself. Too generous to wish to prevent me, she implored me, in the name of the love she bore me, to be as careful of myself as my honour would permit me. She entreated the Fairy not to abandon me on this occasion. Her prayers were unnecessary, for that too susceptible person was as much alarmed for me as the Queen, as she knew of no secret that could protect me from the chances of war. By inspiring me in an instant, however, with the art of commanding an army, and with the prudence that was essential to so important an office, she did much for me. I received praise from the most experienced generals. The victory was complete, and I remained master of the field of battle. I had the good fortune to save the Queen's life, and to prevent her from being made a prisoner of war. We pursued our enemies so vigorously that they abandoned their camp, losing their baggage and three-fourths of their entire army. The loss on our side was inconsiderable.

A slight wound that I received was all that the enemy could boast of. But slight as it was, this event caused the Queen to fear that, if the war was continued, more serious catastrophes might befall me, and determined her, against the wishes of the whole army, which was only too proud of my presence, to make peace with the enemy, on terms that were far more advantageous for him than he could possibly have hoped for.

Shortly afterwards we set out for the capital, which we entered in triumph. My continual occupations during the war, and the everlasting presence of my senile adorer, had prevented me from informing the Queen of what had occurred. She was, therefore, taken completely by surprise when this decrepit vixen informed her, in so many words, that she had made up her mind to marry me forthwith. She made this declaration in this very palace where we are now, which was then far from being so superb as it is to-day. It used to be the country seat of the late King, who was prevented, by a thousand anxieties, from completing its embellishment. My mother, who cherished everything that had been dear to him, made it her favourite place of retirement when the war was over. She was so surprised at the Fairy's declaration that, unable to control her feelings, and all unused as she was to dissemble, she exclaimed, " Have you reflected, madame, on the absurdity of the arrangement you propose to me?"

It would certainly have been impossible to conceive anything more ridiculous. Besides her venerable age, the Fairy was quite horribly ugly. It was not lapse of years that had made her hideous, for had she been beautiful in her youth, she might have been able to preserve at least some portion of it, in having recourse to her art. But she was naturally ugly, and the secret power she possessed could do no more for her than make her beautiful for one day in the year only, and that day over, she had to content herself with her former state.

The Fairy showed surprise at the exclamation of the Queen. Her pride concealed from her all that was horrible in her person, and she thought that the power she possessed was a sufficient compensation for the charms of youth that she lacked.

" What mean you," she said to the Queen, " by your expression an absurd arrangement? You would do well to reflect that it might be imprudent of you to bring to my recollection what I have deigned to forget. You should think only of congratulating yourself on being possessed of so amiable a son, and one whose merit is such as to make me accept him in preference to the most powerful sprite in all the elements. It is fitting, since I have condescended to descend to him, that you receive with all respect the honour I am good enough to confer upon you, without giving me time to change my mind."

The Queen, who was no less proud than the Fairy, had never conceived that there was a rank on earth higher than the throne. She set little value on the pretended honour that the Fairy offered her. Having always been in the habit of giving orders to all who approached her, she was by no means flattered by the thought of having a daughter-in-law to whom she would be obliged to pay homage. Far, therefore, from giving to the Fairy the answer she expected, she did nothing but remain motionless, contenting herself with fixing her eyes on me. I was as much astounded as she was, and as I looked at her in the same way as she looked at me, it was not hard for the Fairy to perceive that our views on the matter were very far from being what she had expected.

" What means this," she said sharply, " and how comes it that both mother and son are silent ? Has this agreeable surprise deprived you of the power of speech, or can it be that you have the temerity to decline my offer? Tell me, Prince," she said to me, "can you be so ungrateful and so imprudent as to disdain my kind offer? Do you not immediately consent to give me your hand ? "

" No, madame, I assure you," I answered quickly. " Although I am sincerely grateful for what you have done for me, I cannot consent to discharge my debt to you in this way. With the Queen's permission, I would rather not part with my liberty so soon. Name an other way by which I can requite your kindness ; I am sure not to find it impossible. But as to do what you propose, exempt me from it, I beg of you, for ... ."

"What! insignificant creature!" interrupted the Fairy furiously. " You dare to refuse me ! And you, foolish Queen, you can behold such arrogance as this, and yet not be indignant? What is it I am saying? It is you who authorise him to do it, for it is your own insolent looks that have inspired him with the audacity to refuse me ! "

The Queen, stung by the contemptuous language of the Fairy, was no longer mistress of herself, and her eyes, happening to light upon a looking-glass, before which we were standing at that moment, she turned to the Fairy and said to her—

" The only answer I can make to you is one that you ought to have made to yourself. Deign to look at the object which this mirror presents to you, and let that reply for me."

The Fairy had no difficulty in comprehending what was in the Queen's mind.

" So it is the beauty, then, of this precious son of yours," she cried, " that renders you so vain ; and that it is which has exposed me to so degrading a refusal. I appear to you to be unworthy of him. Well," she went on, in a furious tone, " after having taken so much pains to make him so nice, it is only fitting that I should put the crown to my work, and that I should give you both cause to remember what you owe to me. Away, wretch ! " she said to me, "and boast that you refused your heart and your hand to me ; away, and give them to the girl you find more worthy of them than I."

So saying, my terrible admirer dealt me a blow on the head. It was so heavy that I fell with my face to the ground, and felt as though I had been crushed by the weight of a mountain. Full of wrath at this insult, I sought to rise, but found it impossible : the weight of my body was so great that I was unable to lift myself. All that I could do was to sustain myself on my hands, which in an instant had become two horrible paws, the sight of which made me conscious of the change I had undergone. My form was that in which you found me. At the same instant I cast my eyes on the fatal mirror, and could no longer doubt of my sudden and cruel metamorphosis.

The pain that I endured made it impossible for me to move. The Queen was beside herself at the tragic spectacle. To put the last seal to her barbarity, the furious Fairy said to me, with all the irony she could—

" Now go and make conquests of which you may be proud, conquests worthier of you than an august Fairy. And as there is no need to have wit when one is handsome, I ordain that you appear as stupid as you are ugly, and that you remain in this state, without assuming your old form, until a young and beauteous maiden comes of her own accord to seek you out, fully persuaded beforehand that you are going to eat her. She must also, once her fears respecting her life are appeased, conceive for you a sufficiently tender affection as to induce her to propose to you. Until you meet with this rare person, it is my pleasure that you remain an object of horror to yourself and to everyone who meets you. As for you," she said, turning to the Queen, " blessed mother of so charming a child, I warn you that if you tell anyone that this monster is your son, all chance of his ever regaining his ancient form will be lost. Neither by the charm of his conversation, nor by the intervention of any exterior aid, may he attempt to regain what he has lost. Farewell ; do not be too impatient, you will not have long to wait ! Such a cherub ought soon to be able to find a way out of his difficulties 1 "

" Ah ! cruel Fairy," cried the Queen, " if I have offended you by my refusal, let your vengeance fall on me. Take my life, but do not, I conjure you, destroy the work of your own hands."

" You are not serious, great Princess," replied the Fairy ironically. " You demean yourself too much ; I am not beautiful enough for you to condescend to talk to me ; but I am firm in my resolutions. Goodbye, puissant Queen ; goodbye, handsome Prince ! It is not right that I should tire you with my odious presence. I withdraw ; but I have yet the chanty to tell you," addressing herself to me, " that it is absolutely necessary for you to forget who you are. If you allow yourself to be flattered by the respect that others may have for you, or by any highstanding titles that may be bestowed on you, you will be irretrievably lost ; and you will be equally lost, if you should ever attempt to make use of your wit in order to shine in conversation."

With these words she disappeared, leaving the Queen and me in such a state as can neither be described nor imagined. Tears are the consolation of the unhappy ; but our misery was too great to seek relief in them. My mother decided to stab herself, and I to fling myself into the adjacent canal. Without communicating our intentions to each other, we set out to execute our sanguinary designs. On the way, however, we were met by a lady of majestic mien and form, whose manners inspired profound respect, who stopped us and bade us remember that it was a cowardly thing to succumb to misfortune, and that with time and courage there was no calamity which could not be remedied. But the Queen was inconsolable ; tears streamed from her eyes, and not knowing how to inform her subjects that their sovereign had been transformed into a horrible beast, she had no other resource than that of abandoning herself to despair. The Fairy for she was one and the same that you have already seen here perceiving her wretched plight and her embarrassment, recalled to her mind the indispensable obligation she was under to conceal from her people this frightful adventure, and counselled her to seek a remedy for her ills instead of yielding to despair.

" Is there a remedy to be found," inquired the Queen, " that is _ potent enough to prevent the fulfilment of the Fairy's sentence ? "

" Yes, there is, madame," replied the Fairy ; " there is always a remedy for everything. I too am a Fairy, just as much as she whose anger you have just experienced, and my power is quite equal to hers. It is true that I cannot immediately repair the harm she has done you, for it is not permitted us to put ourselves directly into opposition with each other. She, who has caused your misfortune, has lived longer than I, and amongst us age has a particular claim to respect. But as she could not avoid attaching a condition, by the aid of which the spell might be broken, I will do what I can to assist you in breaking it. I grant you that it will by no means be an easy task to break this spell, but it does not appear to be impossible. Let me see what I can do for you, by making use of all the means in my power ! "

Upon this she drew forth a book from under her robe, and taking several mysterious steps, she went to seat herself at a table and read for a considerable time, with such intensity that she perspired. Then she closed the book and meditated profoundly. Her countenance wore so serious an expression that for some time we believed that my misfortune was irreparable. Recovering, however, from her trance, her face resumed its natural beauty, and she then told us that she had discovered a remedy for our ills. " It will be slow," she said, " but it will be sure. Keep the secret carefully to yourselves, let no one know of it, and above all, let no one suspect that it is the Prince who is concealed beneath this humble disguise, otherwise you will deprive me of the power of ridding you of it. Your enemy flatters herself that you will divulge the secret, and it is for that reason that she did not deprive you of the power of speech."

The Queen declared that this was an impossible condition, since two of her female attendants, who had been present at the fatal transformation, had fled from the room in the greatest alarm, a circumstance which could hardly have failed to excite the curiosity of the guards and the courtiers. She imagined that the whole court was already informed of it, and that ere long the noise of it would have spread not only throughout her kingdom, but throughout all the world. The Fairy, however, knew of a means of preventing the disclosure of the secret. She began to walk round several times in a circle, sometimes stepping with the utmost gravity, sometimes taking hasty steps, uttering all the while words which we did not understand. She ended at length by raising her hand, with the gesture of one who is about to give a most authoritative command. This gesture, coupled with the words she had uttered, had so powerful an effect that every breathing creature in the palace became motionless, and was in an instant changed into a statue. They are all still in the same state. These are the figures that you see in different places, and they are all still in the very same attitudes in which they happened to be, when the Fairy's potent spell fell upon them.

The Queen, who, at that moment, cast her eyes on the great outer court of the palace, saw that this transformation had taken place in an immense number of persons. The silence, which suddenly succeeded to the agitation of a great multitude, awoke in her heart a feeling of compassion for the many innocent persons who had been thus deprived of life for my sake. But the Fairy comforted her by saying that she would keep her subjects in the condition only for as long a time as she found she could not dispense with their discretion. It was a precaution she was compelled to take. She promised that she would make up to them for it, and that the period they passed in that state would not be counted in their lives. " They will be all the younger for it," she said to the Queen ; " so cease to pity them, and let us leave them here with your son. He will be quite safe here, for I have raised such thick fogs around the castle, that it will be impossible for anyone to enter it against our will. I am now going to bring you back," she continued, " to where your presence is necessary, for there is reason to believe that your enemies are plotting against you. See that you proclaim to your people, that the Fairy who brought up your son, still keeps him near her for important reasons, and that she is also looking after all the persons who were in attendance on you."

My mother shed endless tears before she could bring herself to leave me. The Fairy renewed her promises to watch over me always, and assured the Queen that I had only to wish in order to see my desires fulfilled. She added that there was no doubt about my misfortunes coming to an end, provided that neither of us raised obstacles by any imprudent act. All these promises could not, however, console my mother. She would have preferred to remain with me, leaving to the Fairy, or to whomsoever the latter might appoint, the task of governing her kingdom. But when fairies command, the expect to be obeyed. My mother, fearing lest her refusal would only increase my miseries and deprive me of the aid of this beneficent spirit, consented to all she insisted on. She saw approaching a beautiful chariot, drawn by the same white stags that brought her here today. The Fairy bade her mount by her side. She had scarcely time to embrace me, being warned that her interests demanded her presence elsewhere, and that to stay longer in this place would be prejudicial to me. She was transported, with an incredible speed, to the spot where her army was encamped. No surprise was shown at seeing her arrive in this equipage. Everyone believed she had been with the old Fairy, for the one who brought her departed immediately, without making herself known. This obliging Fairy came back to this palace, which, in an instant, she embellished with everything that her imagination could suggest to her. She permitted me also to add anything I fancied I might like. Then, after doing for me everything she could, she left me, exhorting me to take courage, and promising to return from time to time and inform me of any fresh hopes she might be able to conceive in my favour.

I appeared to be all alone in the palace. I was only so, however, as far as my eyes were concerned, for I was waited on as though I were still at court. I occupied myself at first in very much the same way as you yourself did later on. I read, I went to the theatres, I cultivated a garden, which I had dug to amuse myself, and I was able to take pleasure in everything that I undertook to do. Whatever I planted arrived at perfection within the space of a day. That was all the time it took to produce the rose-tree, to which I owe the happiness of seeing you here.

My benefactress came very often to see me. The promises she made me and her presence near me did much to alleviate my distress. Through her the Queen received news of me and I news of the Queen. One day I saw the Fairy arrive. Her eyes sparkled with joy. She said to me, " Dear Prince, the moment of your happiness approaches." Then she spoke to me of him whom you regarded as your father, and how he had passed a very uncomfortable night in the forest. In a few words she related to me the adventure which had caused him to undertake the journey, without, however, revealing to me the nature of your birth. She added that the worthy man was compelled to seek an asylum from the misery he had endured for twenty-four hours.

" I go," said she, " to give orders for his reception. I want it to be a nice one for him. He has a charming daughter, who, I hope, will be the person to release you. I have carefully examined the conditions that my cruel sister has attached to the breaking of the spell that surrounds you. It is fortunate that she did not ordain that she who is to deliver you should come here out of love for you. She insisted, on the contrary, that it was death she should fear, and that she should voluntarily make up her mind to run the risk of being put to death. I have thought of a scheme that will oblige the maiden to take that step. This is, to make her think that her father's life is in danger, and that there is no other means of saving him. I happen to know that, in order to save the old man unnecessary expense, she has only asked him to bring her home a rose, whereas her sisters have overwhelmed him with all sorts of extravagant commissions. Whenever he finds a favourable opportunity to obtain the rose, he will naturally seize it. Hide yourself, therefore, in this arbour, seize him the instant he begins to pick the flowers, and threaten him with death unless he gives you one of his daughters, or rather, unless she sacrifice herself, according to our enemy's decree. This man has five other daughters, besides the one I have destined for you. But not one of them has the necessary courage or the generosity to purchase her father's life at the expense of her own. Beauty alone is capable of so noble an action."

I carefully executed the orders of the Fairy. You are aware, lovely Princess, with what result. To save his life, the merchant promised me all I asked. I saw him depart, without, however, possessing the certainty that he would return with you. I hoped it would be so, but I was far from being sure of it. What torments I suffered during the long month he had begged me to allow him ! I longed for the period to end, so as to possess the certainty of my disappointment. I could not imagine that a young, lovely and charming girl would have the courage to come to a monster, believing that she was about to become his prey. Even supposing that she had the fortitude required to do this, it was still necessary that she remained with me, without in any way repenting the step she had taken. That appeared to me an invincible obstacle. Besides, how could she remain in my presence without dying of fright?

It was in the midst of these melancholy reflections that my miserable life was spent, and I was never more to be pitied than I was then. However, the month came to an end at length, and my protectress announced to me your arrival. You remember, no doubt, the pomp with which you were received. Not daring to express my delight in words, I had recourse to a magnificent display, in my attempt to prove my joy to you. The Fairy, ever full of solicitude for me, prohibited me again from making myself known. No matter the terror I might cause you, no matter the kindness you might have for me, it was expressly forbidden me, either to attempt to please you, or to show any love for you, or in any way to discover myself to you. All I could do was to show you an extreme liberality, as, fortunately, the malicious Fairy had forgotten to forbid me that.

These regulations seemed hard to me, but I was compelled to subscribe to them. I resolved, therefore, to present myself before you for a few moments only every day, and to avoid protracted conversations with you. This I did to prevent my heart exhibiting any signs of affection. You came, charming Princess, and the very first glance that I had of you produced upon me an entirely different effect from that which my monstrous appearance must have produced upon you. To see you was instantly to fall in love with you. I trembled as I entered your apartment, but my joy was excessive on finding that you were able to look on me with less dread than I was able to look at myself. I was filled with boundless delight on hearing you say that you were willing to remain with me. By an effect of self-conceit, which I retained even under that most odious form, I was led to fancy that you had not found me as hideous as you had anticipated.

Your father departed satisfied. But my sorrow increased when I reflected that I had to thank the strangeness of your taste for the sympathy you accorded me. Your whole demeanour, your conversation, as sensible as it was modest, everything, in short, in you convinced me that you were obeying solely the dictates of your reason and your conscience. I felt, consequently, that nothing permitted me hope that you were falling in love with me. I was in despair at not being able to make use of means to show you how I felt towards you other than those prescribed to me by the Fairy, means which she had expressly chosen for their coarseness and their stupidity. In vain did I represent to her that it was unnatural to expect that you would accept my proposition to let me sleep with you. Her only answer was : " Be patient and persevere, or else all is lost." To make up for my inane conversations, she told me that she was about to procure you all sorts of pleasures, and at the same time afford me the happiness of seeing you constantly, without causing you alarm and without being compelled to say rude things to you. She made it so that I became invisible. I then had the satisfaction of seeing you waited on by spirits, who, like me, were also invisible, or who presented themselves before you in the shapes of different animals. More than this, the Fairy undertook the direction of your dreams, causing you to behold my natural form in your nightly slumbers, and directing your attention by day to various portraits of myself. She enabled me, besides, to hold converse with you in your dreams, and to speak to you just as I should speak to you in my natural self. You thus, in a confused manner, became acquainted with my secret, and with my hopes, which the Fairy invited you to gratify. I meanwhile, by means of a starry mirror, was able to witness all these interviews, and to ascertain all that you imagined you said, as well as all that you actually thought. This position, however, did not suffice to make me happy. I was so only in the land of dreams, and my misfortunes were none the less real. The great love that you had inspired in me obliged me to complain of the restraint under which I lived. But my lot became all the crueller, when I perceived that these beautiful scenes ceased to have any charms for you. I saw you shed tears, which pierced my heart, and brought me near losing myself. When you asked me if I was here alone, I was on the point of discarding my feigned stupidity, and of assuring you, in the most passionate language, that I was. Had I then spoken to you, my words would have surprised you, and would have made you suspect that I was far from being so coarse a creature as I looked. Once, when I was on the verge of telling you who I was, the Fairy, invisible to you, appeared before me. Assuming a threatening attitude, which terrified me, she found a means of imposing silence on me. Great Heavens ! What do you think it was ? She went up to you, with a poignard in her hand, and made signs to me that at the first word I uttered she would take your life. I was so frightened that I relapsed naturally into the stupidity she had ordered me to affect.

I was not yet at the end of my troubles. You expressed a desire to see your father. I gave you permission without hesitation. Could I refuse you anything? But I regarded your departure as my death-blow, and were it not for the watchfulness of the Fairy, I would never have survived it. All the time that you were away, this generous Fairy never left me. She prevented me from putting an end to myself, which I otherwise certainly would have done, not daring to hope that you would come back. The time that you had passed in this palace rendered my condition far more insupportable than it had been at first. More than ever I looked upon myself as the most miserable wretch alive, and I conceived no hope of ever being able to inform you who I really was. My most agreeable occupation was to wander among the places that you were most in the habit of frequenting, but my grief redoubled when I no longer saw you there. The evenings, and the hours that I used to have the pleasure of conversing for a moment with you, only increased my affliction, and rendered my lot all the harder to bear. These two months, the longest I have ever known, ended at last ; but there was yet no sign of you. It was then that my misery reached its climax, and even all the Fairy's art was insufficient to prevent me from sinking under my despair, The precautions she took to prevent me from attempting my life were useless. I had a sure way of eluding her power, which was to refrain from taking food. By some magic contrivance she was able to sustain me for a little while ; but, after exhausting on me all the secret of her spells, she still saw me growing weaker and weaker. At length, I had but a moment to live, when your arrival came to snatch me out of the jaws of death.

Your precious tears, more efficacious far than all the cordials of disguised genii, delayed my soul upon the point of flight. On learning by your lamentations that I was dear to you, I tasted of perfect felicity, a felicity that reached its zenith when you accepted me for husband. I was not yet, however, permitted to disclose to you my secret, and the Beast was obliged to sleep at your side without daring to disclose to you the Prince. I was scarcely in your bed when all my troubles ceased. You know how I fell at once into a lethargy which only ended on the arrival of the Fairy and the Queen. When I awoke, I found myself as you now behold me, without being able to say how the change took place. You are yourself a witness of that and of everything that followed. But what you could only judge imperfectly was the pain caused me by my mother's obstinacy, when she set herself to oppose a marriage that we both desired, and which is so glorious a one for me. I had determined, Princess, to become a monster again, rather than abandon all hope of becoming the husband of so good and so charming a person as you. Even had the secret of your birth remained ever unknown to me, my gratitude and my love for you would none the less have assured me that in possessing you I was the most fortunate of all men.

The Prince thus ended his narration. Beauty was about to reply, when she was interrupted by a great burst of shouting, accompanied by the sound of martial music. It was not a noise, however, that foretold disaster. The Prince and Beauty looked out of the window, as did also the Fairy and the Queen, who had returned from their promenade. They perceived that the clamour was occasioned by the arrival of a man, who, judging by his appearance, could be no less a personage than a King. The escort which surrounded him had all the signs pertaining to royalty, and there was an air of majesty in his demeanour, which accorded with the pomp that surrounded him. The perfect figure of this Prince, although no longer in the flower of youth, showed that he must have been without a rival in the springtime of his life. He was followed by twelve bodyguards, and by several courtiers in hunting costume, all of whom appeared as astonished as their master to find themselves before a castle that was quite unknown to them. He was received with the same honours as would have been paid to him in his own dominions, but all at the hands of invisible persons. Shouts of joy and flourishes of trumpets were heard, but not a person was to be seen.

As soon as the Fairy saw him, she turned to the Queen and said—

" Behold the King, your brother and Beauty's father ! He little expects the pleasure of finding you here. He will be all the more pleased, in that, as you know, he has long looked upon his daughter as dead. He mourns her no less than he does his wife, of whom he retains a fond remembrance."

These words made the Queen and Princess all impatient to embrace the monarch. They descended at once into the court, which they reached just as he was dismounting from his horse. He saw them coming without being able to recognise them. Not doubting, however, that they were advancing to greet him, he was debating in his mind how to address them, when Beauty, flinging herself at his knees, embraced them, calling him " Father."

The King raised her, and pressed her tenderly in his arms, without, however, comprehending why she addressed him by the name of " Father." He imagined that she was some orphan princess in trouble, who came to implore his protection, and who made use of touching phrases in order to obtain her request. He was about to assure her that he would do for her all that lay in his power, when he recognised the Queen, his sister, who, embracing him in her turn, presented her son to him. She informed him then of some of the obligations that she and her son were under to Beauty, not omitting the frightful adventure which had just come to an end. The King praised the young Princess, and desired to learn her name. But before the Queen could reply, the Fairy interrupted her by asking the King if he thought it really necessary to name her parents, and if he had never known anyone whom she resembled sufficiently to enable him to guess them.

" If I was to judge her only by her features," said he, gazing earnestly at her, while a few tears fell from his eyes, " the name by which she has just called me would be indeed mine by right, but notwithstanding these signs, and the emotion which her presence occasions me, I dare not go so far as to hope that she is the daughter whose loss I have so long deplored ; for I had the most convincing proof that she was devoured by wild beasts. And yet," he continued, as he gazed steadfastly at her, " she is a perfect likeness of my tender and incomparable wife, whom death deprived me of. How delightful it would be if I could venture to hope that I behold in her the fruit of our happy union, the bonds of which were broken all too soon."

"You may do so, my liege," replied the Fairy. "Beauty is your daughter. Her birth is no longer a secret here. The Queen and the Prince know who she is, and my sole reason for bringing you here was to tell you also of it. But this is scarcely a suitable place to enter into all the details of this adventure. Let us enter the palace ; you will rest yourself a little while, and after that I will relate to you all that you desire to know. When you have indulged your delight at the discovery of so beautiful and virtuous a daughter, I will communicate to you another piece of news, which will afford you no less satisfaction."

The King, accompanied by his daughter and the Prince, was ushered by the monkey officers into the apartment which had been destined for him by the Fairy. The latter, in the meanwhile, set about restoring to the statues their liberty of speech and of telling of all that they had -seen. As their fate had excited the compassion of the Queen, the Fairy willed that she should have the pleasure of restoring them to life and light. She placed her wand in the hand of the Queen, who, acting under her instructions, described seven circles in the air with it, and then uttered these words, in her natural voice : " Come back to life, for your King is saved." All the lifeless figures, at this, began to move, and forthwith proceeded to walk and act as formerly, retaining only a confused idea of what had happened to them.

After this ceremony, the Fairy and the Queen returned to the King, whom they found in conversation with Beauty and the Prince. Turn by turn he had caressed them both, especially his daughter, whom he had questioned a hundred times as to how she had been preserved from the wild beasts who had carried her off. His joy was such that he was incapable of remembering that from the first she had said that she knew nothing about it, having always been ignorant even of the secret of her birth. The Prince, on his side, repeated again and again the obligations he was under to Princess Beauty, but he talked without being listened to. He wanted to tell the King about the promises which the Fairy had made him, and to beg him not to refuse his consent to the marriage. Such was the conversation and such the caresses which the entry of the Queen and the Fairy came to interrupt. The King had recovered his daughter, and he knew all the joy of unexpected bliss : but he was still ignorant as to whom he was indebted for this precious gift.

" It is all due to me," said the Fairy, " and I it is who must explain to you the whole adventure. It is not my intention to confine my acts of kindness to the mere recital of them ; for I have other news in store for you, which will be no less agreeable to you. Therefore, great King, you may note this day as among the happiest of your life." The company, perceiving that the Fairy was about to speak at length, instantly became silent and showed every mark of a profound attention. To satisfy their curiosity the Fairy thus addressed the King

" Beauty, my liege, and perhaps the Prince, are the only persons present who are not acquainted with the laws of the Happy Island. I am therefore going to explain these laws to them. All the inhabitants of this island, even the King himself, are allowed perfect freedom in the selection of their wives. They have nothing to consult but their own tastes and inclinations. In this way no obstacle is placed to their happiness. It was in virtue of this privilege, Sire, that you selected for your bride a young shepherdess, whom you met one day while hunting. Her beauty and her wise conduct made her in your eyes worthy of this honour. Any other but she, and many a girl brought up in honourable society, would have been only too pleased to have become your mistress. Not so she ! Her virtue would have made her disdain such an offer as that. You raised her, therefore, to the throne, and placed her in a rank from which the humbleness of her condition would seem to have excluded her, but of which her noble character and her purity of mind rendered her full worthy. You well remember that you never had any reason to regret the choice you had made. Her gentleness, her obliging disposition, and her affection for you, equalled the charms of her person. But you did not long enjoy the happiness of seeing her. After making you the father of Beauty, you found yourself one day obliged to set out on a journey to the frontiers of your kingdom, in order to suppress a revolution in the bud, of which you had been informed. It was during this period that you had the mortification to lose your dear wife—a loss which you felt all the more keenly, because, in addition to the love which her beauty had inspired in you, you had an infinite respect for the many rare qualities that adorned her mind. Despite her youth and the little education she had received, you had found her gifted by nature with an extraordinary prudence, and your most able courtiers were astonished at the wise counsels she was in the habit of giving you, as well as at the expedients she found for enabling you to succeed in all that you undertook to do."

The King, who had never been able to forget his loss, and who had the image of his dear wife always before his eyes, was unable to listen to this account without being deeply affected. The Fairy, therefore, noticing his emotion, thus addressed him—

" Your feelings prove that you deserved that happiness. I will no longer dwell on a subject that is so painful to you. But I must now reveal to you that this supposed shepherdess was a Fairy, and no other than my sister. From the many reports that reached her of the charms of the Happy Isle, and of the gentle nature of your government there, she conceived a great longing to visit the country. In the intention, therefore, of enjoying for awhile the pleasures of a pastoral life, she assumed the disguise of a shepherdess. You encountered her during her stay in your domains. Your youth and beauty touched her heart. Anxious to ascertain if the qualities of your mind equalled those of your person, she abandoned herself to you, without constraint. She trusted to her condition and to her power, as a Fairy, to place herself beyond the reach of your attentions, should they become too pressing, or if you should presume to take advantage of the humble condition in which you found her. She was in no alarm at the sentiments which your person might inspire in her, as she was persuaded that her virtue was a sufficient guarantee against the snares of love. She attributed the feeling she had for you to a simple curiosity to ascertain if there were still upon the earth men capable of loving virtue for its own sake alone, unadorned by any outward ornaments. For to the vulgar eye it is its ornaments alone which render virtue attractive, and it is often forgotten that these very same ornaments, by the fatal aid they bring, often cause the name of virtue to be given to the most abominable vices.

" Absorbed as she was by this idea, my sister, so far from retiring to our common home, as she had at first intended, made up her mind to live in a little cottage, which she had built for herself in the solitude of the woods. It was there that you found her, living with another fairy-like person, who represented her mother. These two persons appeared to live upon the produce of a curious phantom flock, which had no fear of wolves, being, in fact, composed of genii in disguise. It was in this cottage that she received your attentions. They produced all the effect that you could possibly have desired, and when you offered to share your crown with her she was unable to resist. You now know the extent of the obligations you were under to her, although at the time you imagined she owed everything to you.

" What I am telling you now is a positive proof that it was not ambition that induced her to consent to your wishes. You are aware that we look on the greatest kingdoms merely as presents, which it is in our power to bestow on whom we please. But she appreciated your generous behaviour, and, esteeming herself happy in uniting herself to so upright a man, she rashly entered into this engagement, without reflecting on the danger which she thereby incurred ; for our laws expressly forbid our marrying with anyone whose power is not equal to our own, especially when we have not arrived at that age at which we are allowed to exercise authority over others and enjoy the right of presiding. Before attaining to that age we are under the control of our elders, and the only right we have as regards the disposal of our persons is to accept in marriage some sprite or sage, whose power is at least as great as our own. It is true that once we have reached the veteran stage, we are free to contract any alliance we please. But it is seldom that we avail ourselves of this right, and we can never do so without causing scandal to our order. Those who do so are generally aged fairies, who almost always pay dearly for their folly, for they marry young men who despise them, and although they are not punished in any open way, the contemptuous treatment they receive at the hands of their husbands is a punishment none the less, and it is the only one for which there is no redress. This is the only penalty we impose upon them. The mutual antipathy for each other which almost invariably follows the indiscretion they have committed, deprives them of the desire of revealing to the profane from whom they expect respect and attention—the secrets of our art. My sister was not, however, placed in either of these positions. Endowed with every charm that could inspire affection, the only thing that was wanting to her was her lack of age. But she thought of nothing except her love. She flattered herself that she could keep her marriage secret, and she succeeded in so doing for a short time. We rarely make inquiries about such of us who happen to be away. Each is occupied with her own affairs, and we spread ourselves throughout the world, doing good or ill, according as we feel inclined. On our return home, we are not obliged to give an account of what we have done, unless indeed we have been guilty of some act which causes us to be talked about, or unless some beneficent fairy, moved by the unhappy plight of some unfortunate wretch, unjustly persecuted, should lay a complaint against the offender. There must arise, in short, some unforeseen event, to make us go and consult the general book, in which all that we do is written down, without the aid of hands, at the very same instant that the action takes place. Except on such occasions as these, we are only obliged to appear in the general assembly three times a year, and as we travel very speedily, the whole affair does not occupy us more than a couple of hours.

" My sister was obliged to ' enlighten the throne' that is how we call this duty. Whenever she had to do this, she would prepare for you some distant hunting party, or some other pleasure excursion, and as soon as you were gone she would feign so as to remain alone in her chamber some indisposition, or say that she had letters to write, or that she had need of repose. Neither in your palace nor amongst ourselves was there any suspicion of what it was so much to her interest to conceal. I, however, was acquainted with her secret. The consequences of her step were likely to be dangerous, and I warned her of them. But she loved you too well to repent of what she had done, and, as she wished to justify herself in my eyes, she insisted on my paying her a visit.

" Without attempting to flatter you, Sire, I must confess that, if your appearance did not wholly cause me to excuse my sister's folly, it at least considerably diminished my surprise at it, as it also increased my anxiety to keep the matter secret. For two years her attempt at dissimulation was successful ; but at length she betrayed herself. I must tell you that part of our duty is to do a certain number of good actions throughout the world generally, and we are obliged to render an account of them. When my sister sent in her report, it was noticed that all her actions had been performed within the confines of the Happy Isle. Several of our ill-natured fairies found fault with this conduct, and our Queen, in consequence, asked her why she had bestowed her benefits on this small corner of the earth alone, since she could not be ignorant that it was the duty of a young fairy to travel far and wide, and make known to the universe at large the extent of our might and our renown.

" As this was no new regulation, my sister had no reason to murmur against its enforcement, nor could she find a pretext for avoiding to obey it. She promised, therefore, to conform to it. But her impatience to see you again, her fear lest her absence should be noticed, and the impossibility she was in of attending to her secret affairs when on the throne, prevented her from absenting herself long enough and as often as her duties towards her order required ; and so it happened that at the next assembly she was unable to prove that she had been out of the Happy Isle for more than a quarter of an hour at a time.

" Our Queen, greatly incensed with her, threatened to destroy the island, and so prevent her continuing to violate our laws. My sister became so agitated at this threat, that the least sharp-witted fairy could see to what a point she was interested in that fatal region. It was then that the wicked Fairy the same that turned the young Prince here into the frightful Beast perceiving her confusion, became convinced that if she were to open the great book, she would find in it an important entry, which would enable her to exercise her evil inclinations. ' It is there,' she exclaimed, ' that the truth will be found, and there it is that we shall be able to learn what she has really been doing with herself! ' So saying, she fetched and opened the book and read aloud to the whole assembly all that my sister had done during the past two years.

" All the fairies made a great uproar on hearing of this degrading alliance, and they all overwhelmed my unhappy sister with the most bitter reproaches. She was degraded from our order, and condemned to remain a prisoner amongst us. Had her punishment been confined to the first penalty only, she would have been able to console herself ; but the second sentence, far more terrible than the first, made her feel all the rigour of both. The loss of her dignity affected her but little ; but loving you fondly, she implored them, with tears in her eyes, to degrade her only, and not to deprive her of the pleasure of living, as a simple mortal, with her husband and her dear daughter.

" Her tears and her supplications touched the hearts of the younger judges, and I felt, from the murmur that arose, that if the matter had been put to the vote there and then, she would doubtless have got off with a reprimand. But one of the oldest fairies present—one who, on account of her extreme decrepitude, we call the ' Mother of the Seasons ' did not give the Queen time to speak and tell the company how touched she was at my sister's distress.

" ' There is no excuse for this crime,' cried the detestable old creature, in a cracked voice ; ' and if it is allowed to go unpunished, we shall be daily exposed to similar insults. The honour of the order is involved. This miserable being, attached as she is to the things of earth, does not regret the loss of a dignity which placed her as far above kings as kings are above their subjects. She tells us that her affection, her fears, and her wishes are all set upon this worthless family. It is through her affections, therefore, that we must punish her. Let her husband mourn for her ! Let her daughter, the shameful fruit of her illicit love, become the bride of a monster, to expiate the folly of a mother who had the frailty to let herself be captivated by the fleeting and contemptible beauty of a mortal.'

" These cruel words revived the severity of many present, who previously had seemed inclined to clemency. Those who continued to pity her were too few in number to offer any opposition. So the sentence was enforced in all its rigour. Even our Queen herself, whose features had before shown compassion, resumed her severe look, and cast her vote in favour of the motion of the ill-natured old Fairy. My sister, however, in her endeavours to obtain a revocation of this cruel decree, tried to touch the hearts of her judges and excuse her marriage, by drawing the most charming portrait imaginable of you. Her description only served to inflame the heart of the fairy-governess of the Prince—she who had opened the book—but this nascent affection did no more than redouble the hatred which this wicked fairy already bore towards your unfortunate bride.

' Unable to resist her longing to see you, she dissimulated her passion under the pretext that she was anxious to learn if you deserved that a Fairy should make you the sacrifice that my sister had done. As the assembly had appointed her to the guardianship of the young Prince, she would never have dared to leave him, had not the ingenuity of love inspired her with the idea of placing a protecting genius and two subaltern and invisible fairies to watch over him in her absence. After taking this precaution, she thought only of yielding to her desires, and they took her to the Happy Isle.

" In the meanwhile, the women and officers of the imprisoned Queen, astonished that she did not come out of her secret chamber, became greatly alarmed. The express orders she had given them not to disturb her, made them pass the night without knocking at her door. Their impatience at length taking the place of all other considerations, they knocked loudly, and when no one answered they broke in the doors, fully believing that some accident had happened to the Queen. Prepared though they were for some terrible calamity, their consternation knew no bounds when they could find no trace whatever of her. They called her by name, they hunted for her everywhere, but all in vain. Not the least trace of anything could they find that might tend to lessen their despair. They imagined a thousand reasons for her absence, each more absurd than the other. They never dreamed it possible that she should have taken herself off of her own accord. She was all-powerful in your kingdom, and the sovereign jurisdiction that you had confided in her was not contested by anyone. Everyone obeyed her cheerfully. The great love that existed between you and her, her affection for her daughter, and the interest she took in her subjects, made it impossible to believe that she had fled. If greater happiness were her object, whither could she go in search of it ? On the other hand, what man would dare to carry off a queen from the midst of her guards and from the very centre of her palace ? It would have been an easy thing to ascertain the road that such a ravisher would have taken.

" There was no doubt that a disaster had happened, though the circumstances attending it were unknown. A further calamity was to be feared, and that was, my liege, the effect that the news would have upon you. The fact that those who were responsible for the safety of the Queen's person, were convinced of their own innocence, did not altogether reassure them on the score of your righteous indignation. They felt that they must either make up their minds to fly the country, and thereby declare themselves guilty of a crime they had not committed, or they must find some means of concealing the catastrophe from you.

"After much deliberation, they could imagine nothing better than to persuade you that the Queen was dead. This plan they at once put into execution. They sent off a courier to inform you that she was suddenly taken ill. They sent a second a few hours later to bear the tidings of her death, so as to prevent you returning post-haste to court, where your appearance would have deranged all the measures they had taken. They paid to the supposed defunct all the funeral honours due to her rank, to the love that you bore her, and to the regrets of a whole people, who adored her, and who mourned her loss no less bitterly than you did yourself.

" This cruel adventure was always kept a profound secret from you, although there was not a single individual in all the Happy Isle who was ignorant of it. Astonishment had given publicity to the whole affair. Your grief at this loss was proportionate to your love, and your only consolation was to send for the little Princess, and to keep her beside you. Her innocent caresses comforted you, and you determined never again to be separated from her. She was a charming girl, and her face was a living portrait of the Queen, her mother. The hostile Fairy, who, by opening the great book and revealing to all the other fairies my sister's marriage, had been the original cause of all the trouble, did not escape paying the penalty of her curiosity when she went to see you. Your personal appearance produced the same effect upon her heart as it had previously done on that of your wife. Instead, however, of being induced by that experience to refrain from following in the steps of my sister, she ardently desired to commit the same offence. Hovering about you invisibly, she could not make up her mind to leave you, and, seeing you so inconsolable, she scarcely dared hope that you would requite her love. She dreaded to incur the shame of a disdainful reception at your hands, and so did not dare to make herself known to you. All the while, however, she thought that she ought to do so, since, by showing off her wit, it was possible that she might accustom you to tolerate her, and even perhaps induce you to make love to her. What she wanted was an introduction to you, so as to have the means of conversing frequently with you. She pondered long as to how she could present herself to you in a decorous manner ; after much thought she hit on the following plan.

" In the neighbourhood there happened to be a Queen, who had been driven out of her dominions by a usurper, who had taken and slain her husband. This unhappy lady was roaming the world in search of an asylum and an avenger. The Fairy carried her off, deposited her in a safe place, and, after putting her to sleep, assumed her form. You then saw her, Sire this disguised Fairy coming to you and throwing herself at your feet, imploring your protection and your assistance, in order to punish, so she said, the assassin of a husband whose loss she mourned as greatly as you did that of the Queen. She swore to you that conjugal love alone impelled her to act as she did, and she added that she would cheerfully renounce all her right to her crown, and offer it to him who would help her to avenge her dear spouse.

" Those who are unhappy are full of pity for each other. You interested yourself in her misfortune, all the more readily in that she too was mourning the loss of a much-loved companion, and because, mingling her tears with yours, she spoke to you incessantly of the Queen. You accorded her your protection, and you lost no time in replacing her on her pretended throne, and you punished the usurper and the rebels, just as she seemed to desire. But when all was done, she would not return to her country, as she was unwilling to leave you. She implored you, for her own security, so she said, to govern the kingdom in her name, since you were far too generous to wish to accept it from her as a gift. In return, she begged you to grant her leave to reside at your court. You had not the heart to refuse her this new request. Besides, her presence appeared to you desirable on account of the bringing-up of your little girl, for the cunning creature knew full well that this child was the sole object of your affections. She feigned an extreme fondness for her, and was ever holding her in her arms. Anticipating the request that you were about to make her, she earnestly begged you to allow her to take charge of her education, saying that she would have no other heir than that dear child, that she already looked on her as her own, and that she was the only being she now loved in the world. She said she reminded her of a daughter she had had by her husband, and who had perished along with him.

" This proposal seemed to you so advantageous, that you had no hesitation in entrusting the Princess to her care, even giving her the fullest authority over her. She acquitted herself of her duties to perfection, and by her talent and the affection she displayed she completely gained your confidence. You had for her all the tender affection that a brother would have for a sister. This was not, however, what she wanted. Her one desire was to become your wife, and she neglected nothing to attain this end. But even had you never been the husband of the most beautiful of all fairies, this one was hardly formed to inspire you with love. The face and form she had assumed could not compare with hers whose place at your side she desired to fill ; and being naturally of an extreme ugliness, she had the power of appearing beautiful for the space of one day only in the year.

" The knowledge of this discouraging fact convinced her that, in order to succeed, recourse must be had to other charms than those of beauty. She intrigued, therefore, secretly with certain of the nobility in order" to get them to beg you to marry again, and to point her out to you as a suitable person. But certain ambiguous remarks she had let fall, when attempting to sound the state of your feelings, enabled you easily to discover whence came the pressing solicitations with which you were importuned. You made it, therefore, clearly to be understood that you would not hear of giving a step-mother to your daughter, as you did not wish to place her in a subordinate position, and so make it possible that she should lose the high rank she held, as the acknowledged heir to your throne. You also intimated to the false Princess that she would do well to return to her own country without more ado, promising her that, when she was settled in her kingdom, you would be happy to render her all the good services which she might of right expect from a faithful friend and a generous neighbour. But you did not conceal from her that if she did not willingly take this course, she ran the risk of being compelled to do so.

" This invincible obstacle, by which you thus thwarted her love, threw her into a terrific rage. But she affected so much indifference about the matter, that she succeeded in persuading you that she had only allowed herself to be carried away by her ambition, and by the fear she was in lest you should eventually take possession of her dominions. Thus she preferred to let you believe she had insincerely offered you her kingdom in spite of all the eagerness she had displayed to make you accept it rather than that you should suspect her real sentiments. But her anger was no less violent in that it was suppressed. Certain in her own mind that it was all on Beauty's account who, so she thought, controlled your mind more than did the affairs of state that you rejected the opportunity of increasing your empire in so glorious a manner, she conceived a hatred for her every whit as intense as that which she had felt against your wife. She went so far as to resolve to get rid of her, believing that if she were dead your subjects would solicit you anew to take another wife, so as to ensure a successor to the throne. The good dame was scarcely of an age herself to present you with an offspring ; but of that she cared little. The Queen, whose figure and form she had assumed, was still of an age to have many children, and she considered her ugliness no obstacle to an alliance that was both royal and political.

" Notwithstanding the official declaration you had made, there were still many persons who thought that if your daughter were to die, you would yield to the pressing solicitations of your council. In this case it was thought that your choice would certainly light upon this factitious Queen, an idea which was the cause of her being surrounded by innumerable flatterers. With the aid, therefore, of one of these parasites, whose wife was as infamous as he, this wicked Fairy, planned the destruction of your daughter. Some time before, she had appointed the wife of this particular parasite governess to the little Princess. They now agreed amongst themselves to smother the child and then give out that it had suddenly died. For greater security, they arranged to commit the murder in a neighbouring forest, so that no one might surprise them in the execution of the barbarous deed. They counted on no one having the slightest knowledge of it, and they reckoned that it would be impossible for anyone to blame them for not having called for assistance before she expired, having the good excuse that they were too far away. The husband of the governess proposed to go in search of aid, as soon as the Princess was dead ; and that no one might have any suspicion of their guilt, it was arranged that, on his return to the spot where he had left this tender victim in the hands of these furies, he should appear greatly surprised at finding that he had arrived too late to help her. He also carefully rehearsed the sorrow and consternation that he was to affect.

" When my unfortunate sister found herself deprived of her power, and condemned to the rude treatment of a cruel prison, she requested me to do what I could to console you and to watch over the safety of her child. That precaution was hardly necessary on her part. The bond of union that exists between us, and the pity that I felt for her, would have sufficed to ensure you my protection, and her entreaties could not increase my eagerness to do as she desired. I went to see you as frequently as I dared, and as often as I thought it prudent to do so ; for I did not wish to incur the risk of arousing the suspicions of our enemy, who would have denounced me as a fairy in whom sisterly affection prevailed over the honour of the order, and as one who was affording protection to a race of guilty people. I neglected nothing, however, to convince the fairies that I had abandoned my sister to her unhappy lot, and by so doing I trusted to have all the more liberty to be of use to her. As every move of your false-hearted admirer was carefully watched, not only by myself, but by such of the genii as are devoted to me, I became acquainted with her odious intention. It was not possible for me to oppose her in an open manner, for, although I could have easily annihilated those into whose hands she had abandoned the poor little creature, prudence warned me not to do so. For had I carried off the child, the spiteful Fairy would have retaken her from me, without it being in my power to defend myself and her.

There is a law amongst us which ordains that we must be at least a thousand years old before we can dispute a matter with our elders, unless, indeed, we have passed through the serpent period. But the perils which accompany this latter condition are the cause of our calling it The Terrible Annals. The bravest amongst us shudder at the thought of undertaking this step, and we hesitate for long before deciding to expose ourselves to the risks it incurs. Without some very urgent reason, such as a violent hatred, a love-passion, or a desire for vengeance, there are few of us who would not prefer to await the veteran stage rather than acquire the desired privilege by this dangerous means, where the greater number perish. I, too, was of that opinion. I wanted but ten years to complete my thousand, so the only resource I had was stratagem. This I employed in an eminently successful manner.

" I took the form of a monster she-bear, and hid myself in the forest, close to the spot selected for the execution of the detestable deed ; so that when these wretches arrived, I was able to fling myself upon the woman who had the child in her arms, just as she was preparing to strangle it. Her fright caused her to drop the precious burden. But I was not inclined to let her off so easily. The horror I felt at her; unnatural conduct inspired me with the ferocity of the animal whose I form I had assumed. I strangled her as well as the traitor who had accompanied her, and I carried off Beauty, after having quickly stripped off her clothes, and dyed them in the blood of her enemies. I scattered the garments throughout the forest, taking the precaution to tear them in pieces, so that it might not be suggested that the Princess had escaped. Then I withdrew, well satisfied with my success.

" The Fairy believed that she had attained her end. The death of her two accomplices was to her advantage, and the fate they had met with differed little from the lot she had reserved for them, as she had intended to have them put to death as a reward for their guilty services. Henceforth she was sole mistress of her secret. There was another circumstance that was even still more favourable to her. This was, that certain shepherds, who had witnessed the affair from a distance, had hastened to the spot, calling loudly for help on their way ; but they arrived on the scene only in time to see the infamous wretches expire. This incident prevented anyone suspecting that she had had a hand in the crime.

" The same circumstances were, however, equally favourable to my enterprise. The wicked Fairy was just as fully convinced as the common people. The event appeared so natural that she never doubted its genuineness, and she did not even deign to make use of her secret means to assure herself of the fact. I was delighted at her assurance ; for had she attempted to recover little Beauty, I could not have resisted her, because, in addition to the reasons which made her my superior, and which I have explained to you, she possessed the advantage of having received the child from you. You had deputed to her your authority, and you alone had the power of depriving her of this authority ; so that, unless you yourself wished to interfere, nothing could relieve her of the control she had a right to exercise, up to the time of the Princess's marriage.

" Relieved of this anxiety, I next found myself overwhelmed by another, when I recollected that the 'Mother of the Seasons' had condemned by niece to marry a monster. But as she was then only three years old, I hoped, by having recourse to my books, to be able to discover some method by which I might prevent this curse from being literally fulfilled, and perhaps be enabled to evade it altogether by some equivocation. I had plenty of time to think about it, so I occupied myself entirely in searching for a suitable spot where I could place my precious charge in safety.

" Profound secrecy was absolutely necessary to me. I dared not place her in a castle, nor surround her with any magnificence. Our enemy would have noticed it ; her anxiety would have been awakened ; and the result would have been disastrous for us. I thought it would be better to assume an humble garb, and confide the infant to the first individual that I might meet who struck me as being a man of means, and under whose roof I could feel assured that she would have all the necessary comforts of life.

" Chance soon favoured my intentions. I found what suited me exactly. This was a little house in a hamlet. The door of this cottage was open. I entered. It appeared to belong to a peasant in easy circumstances. I saw, by the light of a lamp, three persons asleep beside a cradle, which, I concluded, contained a baby. This cradle had nothing in common with the simplicity of the rest of the chamber. Everything about it was sumptuous. I thought that the little creature in it must be ill, and that the deep sleep into which the nurses had fallen was the consequence of long watching over it. I drew near noiselessly, with the intention of relieving the infant, and looking forward with pleasure to the surprise these women would have, on awakening, to find their invalid restored to health. I hastened to take the child out of its cradle, in order to breathe fresh life into it ; but my good intentions were in vain, as the moment I touched it it expired.

" The sudden death of this child instantly inspired me with the idea of substituting my niece in its place ; for, by good fortune, it also was a girl. I had the happiness of being able to realise my desire. Delighted with this occurrence, I carried off the lifeless body of the infant, taking care to bury it with all due regard. Then I returned to the house and knocked loudly at the door, so as to awaken the sleeping women.

" I told them, feigning a provincial accent, that I was a stranger in those parts, and I begged them to let me have a night's lodging. They kindly gave me what I asked, and then they turned to look after the babe. They found it sleeping peacefully and as though enjoying perfect health. They were astonished and delighted, never dreaming of the deception I had practised upon them.

" They informed me that this little girl was the daughter of a rich merchant, and that one of them was its nurse ; that this woman, after having weaned the child, had restored it to its parents ; but that, as it had fallen ill at home, it had been sent back to the country, in the hope that the change of air would do it good ; they added, with satisfied faces, that the experiment had succeeded, having produced a better effect upon the infant than all the remedies which had been tried before it had been sent to them. They determined to carry the child back to its father at break of day, so as not to delay the pleasure he would have on hearing of its restoration to health, and in order also to receive the fat reward they expected he would give them, because he was exceedingly fond of this particular child, although it was the youngest of his twelve children.

" At sunrise they set out on their journey ; as for me, I made a pretence of continuing my journey, congratulating myself on having provided so advantageously for my niece. To ensure her safety all the more completely, and in order to increase, if possible, the sympathy of the presumptive father for the little girl, I assumed the form and dress of one of those women who go about telling people's fortunes. Thus dressed, I followed the nurses to the door of the merchant's house, which I reached at the same time as they did, and I went into the house along with them. The father received them with the greatest delight, and taking the little child in his arms he became the dupe of his paternal affection, as he firmly believed that what he held in his arms was the fruit of his own loins. I seized this moment for increasing his tenderness towards the infant.

" ' Look well after this little one, my good gentleman,' said I to him, in the customary language of the persons whose garb I had assumed ; ' she will bring great honour on your family ; she will be a source of great wealth to yourself, and she will be a means of saving not only your life, but also the lives of all your children. She will be so beautiful—so very beautiful—that the name of Beauty will be given to her by everyone who sees her.' As a reward for my prediction, he gave me a piece of gold, and I withdrew, well satisfied with myself.

" I had now no reason for remaining any longer with Adam's race. To profit by the leisure that was at my disposal, I returned to Fairyland, having made up my mind to remain there for some little time. I lived there quietly, passing the time in consoling my sister, and in giving her all the news of her darling daughter. I assured her that, so far from being forgotten by you, you cherished her memory no less fondly than you formerly did her person.

" Such, great King, was the situation of affairs at the time that you "were suffering from the fresh calamity that had deprived you of your child, and which renewed the affliction you had felt at the loss of her mother. Although you could not positively accuse the person to whom you had confided the infant of being the cause of the accident, it was yet impossible for you to do otherwise than look upon her with distrustful eyes. If her guilt was not wholly apparent, it was yet impossible for her to justify her negligence in the matter, a negligence which was well-nigh criminal.

" After the first paroxysms of your grief had subsided, the Fairy had the effrontery to imagine that there was now no obstacle to prevent you from marrying her. She sent her emissaries to you to renew the proposition. But she was greatly undeceived, and her mortification was extreme, when you declared that not only were your intentions unchanged as regards marrying again, but that, even if you were to alter your mind, it would certainly never be in her favour. To this declaration you added a pressing injunction that she was to leave your kingdom immediately ; her presence continually reminded you of your child, and thus renewed your grief. Such, at least, was the reason that you assigned for this step ; but your real object was to put an end to the intrigues she was continually carrying on, in the hope of attaining her ends.

" She was furious, but she was obliged to obey, without even being able to avenge herself. I had persuaded one of the oldest of my companions to protect you. The power of this Fairy was considerable, for she was not only in the veteran stage, but she had the advantage of having been no less than four times a serpent. As the dangers in undergoing this process are extreme, so are the honours proportionately great, once the stage is safely passed. This Fairy then, out of consideration for me, placed you under her protection, and prevented your indignant lover from doing you any harm.

" What proved an unfortunate affair for the wicked Fairy turned out to the advantage of the Queen whose form she had assumed, as it enabled her to awake from her magic slumber. The wicked Fairy hid from her the criminal use she had made of her features, and placed her conduct in the best light before her. She dwelt at length on the good deeds she had done for her, the trouble she had spared her, and she gave her salutary advice as to how to maintain herself in her proper position in the future. It was then that, seeking to console herself for your indifference towards her, she returned to the young Prince and resumed her care of him. She adored him, she became too fond of him, and, finding that she could not win his love, she made him undergo the terrible consequences of her fury.

" In the meantime, the moment arrived when I attained to the veteran stage. My power was considerably augmented, but, on account of my great wish to succour both my sister and you, I refrained from making use of it, fearing lest it might not prove sufficient. The friendship I bore you both blinded me to the dangers of the serpent ordeal, and I resolved to undergo it. I became a snake, and fortunately passed through the stage without misfortune. I was then in a position to act openly in favour of those who were persecuted by my malicious companions. If I cannot at all times entirely destroy their potent spells, I am at least able to diminish their force, as well by the resources I now have at my command as by my counsels.

" My niece was amongst the number of those whom I could not altogether favour. Not daring to let the interest I took in her be known, I considered that the best thing I could do was to let her remain as the merchant's daughter. I visited her under various disguises, and always returned satisfied. Her virtue and good looks were equalled by her good sense. Although only fourteen years of age, she had already given proof of an admirable fortitude, during the change of fortune that had befallen her supposed father. I was charmed to find that the most cruel reverses had not been able to destroy her peace of mind. On the contrary, by her cheerfulness, by the graceful ease of her conversation, she had made it her task to restore tranquillity to the hearts of her father and her brothers. I had the pleasure, too, of observing that her sentiments were worthy of her birth. These pleasant reflections were, however, mingled with much bitterness, when I recollected that all these charming perfections were destined for a monster. I worked, I strove night and day, to find a means of saving her from so great a misfortune, and I was in despair at finding none.

" This anxiety, however, did not prevent me from paying occasional visits to you. Your wife, who was deprived of that liberty, implored me ceaselessly to go and see you ; for, notwithstanding the protection of our friend, her tenderness for you caused her to be continually fretting about you, and she was ever thinking that the moments I was not with you were about to be the last in your life, and those which our enemy would choose to vent her rage upon you. This fear possessed her so strongly, that she scarcely gave me a moment's rest. No sooner did I bring her news of you than she implored me so earnestly to return to you again, that it was impossible for me to refuse her.

" Touched by her great sorrow, and all the more desirous of ending it, so as to save myself the trouble it caused me, I employed against our heartless foe the very same weapons that she had made use of against you. I proceeded to open the great book. By good fortune, it happened to be the very moment in which she was conversing with the Queen and the Prince—the conversation which ended in the latter's transformation. I heard all that took place, and my joy was extreme on finding that, the better to ensure her vengeance, she had managed to destroy the effect of the harm which the Mother of the Seasons had done us, when she had doomed Beauty to be the bride of a monster. To crown my happiness, she added conditions so advantageous for us, that it almost seemed as though she made them purposely to oblige me, for she thereby furnished my sister's child with an opportunity of proving that she was worthy of being the issue of the purest fairy-blood.

" A sign, or gesture, however slight, amongst us expresses as much as it would take an ordinary mortal three days to explain. One word only I uttered, which I pronounced in the most disdainful voice I could. It was enough to inform the assembly that in the sentence the Fairy had ten years previously pronounced against your wife, she had decreed her own doom. At the age my sister had reached a love-affair was more excusable than in a fairy whose rank was of the highest, and whose age was far advanced. I spoke of the base and ignoble deeds which had accompanied that senile passion. I urged that if so many infamous acts were allowed to pass unpunished, people would be right in saying that fairies existed only in the world in order to dishonour nature and afflict the human race. Presenting the book to them, I condensed my harangue into the one word ' Behold ! ' The effect of my speech was no less great for being short. Among those present were many young and old fairies, friends of mine, who did not hesitate to treat the antiquated lover as she deserved. As she had not succeeded in marrying you, to that disappointment was now added the dishonour of being degraded from our order ; besides which, she was made to undergo the same treatment that had been imposed upon the Queen of the Happy Isle.

"This council was held at the time that she happened to be with you. As soon as she appeared amongst us, the result of our deliberations was communicated to her, and I had the pleasure of being a witness to the scene. After which, closing the book, I descended rapidly from the middle region of air, where our empire is situated, and hastened to combat and relieve your despair. I took no more time in making this journey than I had taken to pronounce my laconic discourse. I arrived in time to promise you my assistance. All sorts of reasons combined to develop the sympathy I already had for you. Your virtues, your misfortunes," said she, turning to the Prince, " the advantages I saw therein for Beauty, all made me see in you the monster that I wanted. You appeared to me to be worthy of each other, and I felt convinced that, when you learned to know each other, your hearts would each do the other mutual justice.

" You know already," she continued, addressing the Queen, " what I have since done to attain my object, and by what means I obliged Beauty to come to this palace, where the sight of the Prince, and the conversations she had with him, in the dreams I conjured up for her, had all the effect I desired. They kindled love in her heart, without diminishing her virtue and without weakening either her sense of duty or the feelings of gratitude which bound her to the monster. In short, I have been able to bring everything to a happy ending.

" Yes, Prince," went on the Fairy, " you have now nothing to fear from your enemy. She is stripped of her authority, and will never be able to harm you by her charms again. You have exactly fulfilled the conditions which she imposed upon you ; had you not done so, you would have been still bound by them, notwithstanding her eternal disgrace. You have made yourself beloved without the aid of your rank, and without having recourse to any questionable measures. And you, Beauty, you are equally relieved from the curse which the Mother of the Seasons pronounced upon you. You have willingly accepted a monster as your husband. There is nothing more to exact from any of you ; all now tends to your happiness."

The Fairy ceased speaking, and the King threw himself at her feet.

" Great Fairy," he exclaimed, " how can I thank you for all the favours you have deigned to heap upon my family? My gratitude for all you have done for us is far more than I can possibly express. But, my august sister," added he, " the title of brother emboldens me to ask you yet another favour. Despite the obligations I am under to you already, I cannot avoid telling you that I shall never be truly happy so long as I am deprived of the presence of my beloved Fairy Queen. All that she has done, all that she has suffered for me, would increase my love and my affliction, were either of them capable of being augmented. Ah, madame, can you not crown all your goodness to me by enabling me to see her?"

This request was in vain. Had the Fairy been able to render him this service, she was far too willing to oblige him to have waited until he asked it. But she could not alter what the council of the fairies had decreed. The young Queen being a prisoner in the middle region of the air, there was not a shadow of a chance of his being enabled to see her. The Fairy was about to explain this gently to him and exhort him to wait patiently until some unforeseen event might put her in a position to help him, when a melodious symphony stole upon their ears and interrupted her.

The King, his daughter, the Queen and the Prince were in ecstasies ; but the Fairy experienced a different kind of surprise. This music indicated the triumph of a Fairy, and she could not imagine what one it might be. Her fear made her hark back to the old Fairy, or to the Mother of the Seasons, who, during her absence, had perhaps obtained, the former her liberty, the latter leave to persecute the lovers afresh. Her perplexity was ended in the happiest manner, for she suddenly saw before her her own sister, the Queen of the Happy Isle. A charming group of fairies surrounded her. She was no whit less lovely than she had been when she had lost her husband. The monarch, who had no difficulty in recognising her, made the respect he had for her give way to the love he bore her, and embraced her with such transports of joy that even the Queen herself was surprised at them.

The Fairy, her sister, could not imagine to what happy miracle she owed her liberty. But the Fairy Queen informed her that she owed her happiness solely to her own courage, which had impelled her to expose her life to preserve another's. " You are aware," said she to her sister, " that the daughter of our Queen was received into our Order at her birth, but that she owed her being, not to a sublunary father, but to the sage Amadabat, whose alliance is an honour to the fairy race, and whose power is far above ours, on account of his sublime knowledge. In spite of this fact, it was ordained that his daughter should become a serpent, as soon as ever she reached her hundredth birthday. When that fatal moment arrived, our Queen, as tender as a mortal mother for this dear child, and as greatly alarmed about her as any ordinary mother would be, was unable to resolve to let her expose herself to the many chances of destruction she would incur in that shape ; for the fair child was still young, and her mother had every reason to fear that her lack of experience would be a certain obstacle to her passing through the ordeal successfully, especially when much older fairies had so often failed to do so.

"The unhappy situation in which I found myself, depriving me, as it did, of all hope of ever again beholding my dear husband and daughter, made me conceive a perfect disgust for my life. Without any hesitation, therefore, I offered to undergo the ordeal of the serpent, in the place of the young fairy. I saw, with delight, that this was an effectual, speedy, and at the same time, honourable means of freeing myself from the miseries that overwhelmed me, either by dooming me to a certain death, or by a glorious emancipation, which, making me mistress once more of my actions, would enable me to rejoin my beloved husband.

" Our Queen hesitated as little about accepting my offer, so gratifying to her motherly love, as I had done in making it. She embraced me a hundred times, and promised to give me back my liberty unconditionally, in the event of my proving successful in the perilous enterprise. I passed through the ordeal without accident, and the result of my labour was attributed to the young fairy, whose substitute I had been. I immediately began to act for myself. The success of my first trial encouraged me to make a second for my own benefit. In this I was equally successful, and the result was that I attained to the veteran stage, and regained my independence. I was not long in profiting by my liberty, and my first thought was to fly hither and rejoin a family that is so dear to me."

As soon as the Fairy Queen had ended her tale, her fond auditors renewed their embraces. It was a charming confusion, where each caressed the other without well knowing what he or she was about. Beauty, more than all, was enchanted to find that she belonged to such an illustrious family, and to know that she need now have no scruples about contracting an alliance with the Prince, her cousin, for fear of degrading him. But although in ecstasies at this excess of happiness, she did not forget the worthy man, whom she had formerly regarded as her father. She recalled to her Fairy aunt the promise she had given her, that both he and his children should have the honour of being present at her marriage festival. She was still speaking to her on this subject, when she suddenly perceived, through the window, the arrival of sixteen persons, on horseback, most of whom had hunting horns, and all of whom seemed greatly embarrassed. It was evident that their steeds had run away with them, and thus thrown them into confusion. Beauty instantly recognised them as the six sons of the worthy merchant, her five sisters and their five admirers.

Everyone, except the Fairy, was surprised at the abrupt entry of this party. But they were less so than the people themselves, whose astonishment was great at finding themselves transported by their unmanageable horses into a palace which was totally unknown to them. The accident had happened in this manner. They were all out hunting, when their horses, as though acting in concert, had suddenly formed themselves into a squadron, and had rushed off precipitately to the palace, which they reached in spite of all the efforts their riders had made to restrain and stop them.

Beauty, forgetting her newly-acquired dignities, hastened to receive them and calm their fears. She embraced them all kindly. The worthy father appeared also, although not in the same disorder as the others. A horse had come to neigh and scratch at his door. He had no doubt but that it came to seek him by order of his dear daughter. He mounted without fear, and, quite satisfied as to the direction the steed was carrying him, he was not at all surprised to find himself in the courtyard of a palace, which he now saw for the third time, and to which he felt convinced he had been conducted so as to be present at the wedding of Beauty and the Beast.

The moment he perceived her, he ran to her with open arms, blessing the happy moment that presented her to his sight, and heaping benedictions on the generous Beast who had permitted him to return. He looked around on all sides for the monster, intending to offer him his humblest thanks for all the favours he had heaped upon his family, and particularly upon his youngest daughter. He was sorry at not seeing him, and he began to think that he was perhaps wrong in his conjectures. Still, the presence of his children encouraged him in his first idea, as they would scarcely all have been brought to this spot unless some solemn ceremony, such as a marriage, was about to be celebrated. This reflection, which the good man made to himself, did not prevent him pressing Beauty fondly in his arms, and bathing her cheek with the tears which his joy caused him to shed.

After allowing him to taste of his rapture a little while, the Fairy said to him : " Enough, worthy fellow, now that you have sufficiently caressed the Princess, the time has come for you to learn that you must cease to regard her as your daughter, for the honour of being her father does not belong to you ; know too that you owe her homage, which it is fitting that you should do her, as indeed to your sovereign. She is Princess of the Happy Isle, and daughter of this King and Queen, whom you see here. She is about to become the wife of this Prince. The person you see there is the Queen, her mother, and the sister of this King. I am a Fairy, the friend of Beauty, and her aunt as well. As to the Prince," she added, seeing that the good man regarded her with a perplexed countenance, " he is better known to you than you think, although he is much altered since you last saw him. In a word, it is he who was the Beast."

On learning these wonderful tidings, the father and the sons were delighted for Beauty's sake. The sisters, however, were terribly jealous, although they did their best to conceal the fact under a mask of feigned satisfaction, which deceived no one. All the same, Beauty and her family pretended not to notice their conduct. As for the lovers, whom the hope of possessing Beauty had rendered so inconstant, and who had only returned to their first attachments when in despair of being able to obtain her, they knew not what to think.

The merchant could not prevent himself shedding tears, although he did not know whether these tears were caused by the pleasure he had in seeing Beauty again, or by his sorrow at having to lose so perfect a daughter. His sons were agitated by similar sentiments. Beauty, extremely affected by this mark of their love, entreated those on whom she now depended, as also the Prince, her future husband, to permit her to reward such tender attachment. Her prayer testified too sincerely to the goodness of her heart not to be at once listened to. They were laden with presents, and, through the good pleasure of the King, the Prince and the Queen, Beauty continued affectionately to call them by the names of father, brothers, and even sisters, although, as far as the latter were concerned, she knew full well that they were as little her sisters in heart as they were by blood.

She desired also that they would all, in return, call her by the name they had all known her by when they believed her to be a member of their family. The old man and his children were given employment at Beauty's court, and they had the pleasure of living continually near her, in a station sufficiently exalted to be generally respected. The lovers of the sisters, whose passion might easily have been revived, had they not seen the futility of it, were happy enough to unite themselves to the good man's daughters, thus allying themselves to persons for whom Beauty retained so much goodwill.

All those she desired to be present at her wedding having now arrived, the celebration of it was no longer delayed. During the night which followed this happy day, no spell fell upon the Prince, as it had done on the night that Beauty had accepted him for husband, when he was still the Beast. To celebrate this august festival, many days were spent in feasting and merriment, and the festivities only came to an end when the Fairy, the aunt of the young bride, warned them that it was time to quit that beautiful retreat, and return to their dominions, in order to show themselves to their subjects.

It was quite time that she should recall their kingdom to their minds, and the indispensable duties which demanded their presence there. Enchanted with the spot where they were, entranced with the joy of loving and of telling of their love, they had entirely forgotten their royal state, as well as all the cares that attended it. The newly-married pair, indeed, proposed to the Fairy that they should abdicate, saying that they were willing to resign their power into the hands of anyone whom she should select. But that wise intelligence represented to them that they were under as great an obligation to fulfil the destiny which had confided to them the government of a nation, as it was the duty of that same nation to preserve for them an eternal respect.

They yielded to these just remonstrances, but the Prince and Beauty stipulated that they should be allowed to come and visit this spot from time to time, where they could cast aside for awhile the cares inseparable from their rank, and where they would be waited on by the invisible genii or by the animals who had attended on them formerly. They availed themselves as often as they could of this liberty ; their presence seemed to embellish the spot, and everyone there was eager to please them. The genii awaited their visits with impatience, and received them with joy, testifying in a hundred different ways how delighted they were at their return.

The Fairy, whose foresight neglected nothing, made them a present of a chariot, drawn by twelve white stags, with horns and antlers of gold, which was just like the chariot she drove herself. The speed of these animals was greater than thought itself, so that, drawn by them, one could make the tour of the world in two hours. By this means they lost no time in travelling. They profited by every moment of leisure to enjoy themselves. They also made frequent use of this equipage to go and visit their father, the King of the Happy Isle, who, since the return of the Fairy Queen, had grown so young again, that he well-nigh equalled in beauty and health his son-in-law, the Prince. He was also no less happy, being neither less enamoured nor less eager to give his wife repeated marks of his affection for her, while she, on her side, responded to his love with all that tenderness which had previously been the cause of so much misfortune to her. She had been received by her subjects with transports of joy as great as those of grief which the loss of her had formerly occasioned them. She continued to love them always dearly, and nothing ever again came to interrupt her power. For several centuries she showed them all the marks of her goodwill, and testified to her willingness to aid and protect them. Her power, assisted by the friendship of the Queen of the Fairies, preserved her life, and the health and youth of the King her husband. They only ceased to exist because no mortal can hope to live for ever.

The Fairy Queen and the Fairy, her sister, were always very attentive to Beauty, and had every care and attention for her husband, for the Queen, his mother, as well as for the old merchant and his family, so that no one was ever known to live so long as they did. The Queen, the mother of the Prince, did not forget to have this marvellous history inscribed among the archives of her empire and among those of the Happy Isle, so that it might be handed down to all posterity ; and copies of the tale were sent throughout the universe, so that the world at large might never cease to talk of the wonderful adventures of Beauty and the Beast.