She ought, you will say, to have been happy as the day was long. But no: a life becomes flat and stale which is a perpetual round of pleasure and leaves nothing to sigh or to hope for. Beauty began to long for a sight of her father and her brothers and sisters. She concealed this for a while, however, and turned her thoughts to what was more pressing; for she could not beg leave to go home until something had been done to rescue her dear Unknown and restore him to liberty. The Beast alone (she reflected) could tell her the secret; and she thought to herself that, being himself so blunt of speech, he would forgive some bluntness in her. So one evening she asked him point-blank: 'Beast, are we alone in this palace, with nobody but ourselves?'
'Of course we are,' he answered gruffly; but the question appeared in some way to sting him, for almost at once he rose and bade her good night.
Now Beauty, whatever else she thought of the Beast, had by this time learnt to trust him for honest. It was a dreadful disappointment, therefore, to be forced to believe on his word that her Prince Charming had no existence outside of her fancy. She slept ill that night. In her dream she was wandering again and sorrowfully alongside the canal when her lover appeared and took her hands between his while he scanned her face all bathed in tears.
'What has gone wrong, dear Beauty?' he demanded. 'Why are you in this distress?... Ah, it is the Beast who persecutes you! But, never fear, you shall be delivered here and now from his attention'—and with these words the Prince snatched out a dagger and rushed on the monster, who now for the first time came into the dream, advancing slowly down the bank of the canal. Strange to say, he offered no resistance even when the dagger almost touched his throat. But Beauty, whom an unseen power held back as she would have run to prevent the murder, on the instant found voice to cry, 'Stay! Stay, rash fool! or kill me before you kill him who has been my best friend!' 'Friend?' answered back the Prince, still with his dagger lifted; 'and am I no more than that?' 'You are an unfaithful one, at any rate,' persisted Beauty; 'if, knowing well that I would lay down my life for you, you would take the life of one who has done me so much kindness. 'But while she pleaded the figures wavered in her dream, still struggling together, and vanished, giving place to the same stately lady she had seen in her former vision. 'Courage, Beauty!' said this fresh phantom; 'your happiness is not far off, if only you will go your own way and trust not to appearances.'
This dream left Beauty so uneasy that next day she opened one window after another to cure her restlessness; and, when this would not do, all the windows together; but still in vain. That night, when the Beast paid his usual visit, he detected almost at once that she had been weeping, and demanded the reason.
'Ah, sir,' said Beauty, 'if only I might go home!'
'You wish to go home? 'The Beast's face turned pale—which, for such a face, was no easy matter. He staggered backwards with a deep sigh, or rather, a roar of grief. 'Ah, Beauty, Beauty! Would you desert a poor Beast? What more can I do to make you happy? Or is it because you hate me, that you wish to be gone?'
