"Yes," said Beauty, trembling.
"You are a good girl," said the Beast, and then, turning to the old man, he told him that he might sleep there for that night, but in the morning he must go and leave his daughter behind him.
They went to bed and slept soundly, and the next morning the father departed, weeping bitterly.
Beauty, left alone, tried not to feel frightened. She ran here and there through the palace, and found it more beautiful than anything she had ever imagined.
The most beautiful set of rooms in the palace had written over the doors, "Beauty's Rooms," and in them she found books and music, canary-birds and Persian cats, and everything that could be thought of to make the time pass pleasantly.
"Oh, dear!" she said; "if only I could see my poor father I should be almost happy."
As she spoke, she happened to look at a big mirror, and in it she saw the form of her father reflected, just riding up to the door of his cottage.
That night, when Beauty sat down to supper, the Beast came in.
"May I have supper with you?" said he.