He was standing lost in thought, when of a sudden it came into his mind that some kindly power had perhaps prepared this palace of wonder for him, that it with all its riches might indeed be his. Possessed by this notion he once again made a tour of the rooms and took stock of their treasures, planning in his mind how he would divide them amongst his children, assigning this apartment to one and that to another, and whispering to himself what joy he would carry home after all from his journey. Then he went down into the garden, where—though it was the depth of winter—the birds were singing and the air breathed the scent of a thousand flowers.
'Surely,' he told himself, 'my daughters will be happy here and never desire any more to go back to the city. Quick! Let me saddle my horse at once and ride home with the news!'
The way to the stable was an alley fenced on either hand with palings, and over the palings hung great clusters of roses in bloom. They reminded him of his promise to Beauty. He plucked one, and was about to pluck a whole nosegay, when he was startled by a horrible noise behind him, and attempted to turn. But behind him stood a hideous Beast who was overtaking him and reaching out towards him.
'Who gave you leave to pluck my roses?' roared this monster. 'Was it not enough that I made you welcome in my palace and treated you kindly? And you show your gratitude by stealing my flowers! But your insolence shall not go unpunished!'
The good merchant, terrified no less by the sight of this Beast than by his threats, let drop the rose and flung himself on his knees.
'My Lord,' he cried, 'have pity on me! I am not ungrateful; but after all your kindness I could not guess that so small a thing would offend you.'
This speech did not at all abate the Beast's wrath. 'Hold your tongue, sir,' he commanded, 'if you can offer me nothing but flatteries and false titles. I am not "my lord." I am the Beast; and your words will not save you from the death you deserve.'
The merchant, although in fear of his life, plucked up courage to tell the monster that the rose which he had been bold to pluck was for one of his daughters, by name Beauty. Then, in hope either to delay the Beast's vengeance or to touch his compassion, he launched into the tale of all his misfortunes, and of his reasons for the journey, not forgetting to mention Beauty again and her request.
The Beast considered for a moment before answering him in a somewhat milder tone: 'I will forgive you; but only on condition that you give me one of your daughters. Some one must make amends for this trespass.'
'Heaven forgive me,' the merchant entreated, 'but how can I promise such a thing! Even were I cruel enough to purchase my life at the cost of a child, on what excuse could I bring her?'