{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_74277/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_74277","id":"gutenberg_74277","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/74277","summary":null,"tags":["Category: British Literature","Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Fairy tales"],"text":"[Illustration: ONE COLD MARCH DAY, THE LITTLE MAID RAN DOWN TO THE\nOUTER COURT, WITH HER NEW SCARLET CLOAK, TO WRAP HER FRIEND THE OLD\nWATCH DOG IN! LEIGHTON, BROS.]\n\n\n\n\n                         BEAUTY AND THE BEAST.\n\n\n                 _An Old Tale New-Told, with Pictures,\n                             By E. V. B._\n\n\n                                LONDON:\n\n                SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, LOW, AND SEARLE,\n\n                  CROWN BUILDINGS, 188, FLEET STREET.\n\n\n\n\n                                LONDON:\n                 R. CLAY, SONS, AND TAYLOR, PRINTERS,\n                          BREAD STREET HILL.\n\n\n\n\nLIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.\n\n\n 1.--_Once, on a cold March day, the little maid ran down to the outer\n court with her new scarlet cloak, to wrap her friend the old watch-dog\n in!_\n\n 2.--_In the King\u2019s garden the feast is ready and the minstrels wait._\n\n 3.--_The merchant found a little door in the wall, and he opened it\n and went into the Beast\u2019s garden._\n\n 4.--_Upon the strange prickly leaves some one had curiously carved\n Beauty\u2019s name._\n\n 5.--_At dawn, a lady came to comfort her._\n\n 6.--_After supper every night, the Beast asked Beauty to be his wife;\n and every night she said him nay._\n\n 7.--_One sister\u2019s husband, like Narcissus of old, worshipped his own\n beauty: but the other was full of learning._\n\n 8.--_Only the raven in the brake saw the sisters\u2019 rage, and heard them\n plot her death._\n\n 9.--_\u201cAh, dear Beast!\u201d she said; \u201calas, that my unkindness should thus\n slay thee!\u201d_\n\n 10.--_Love is the magic that makes all things fair._\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nBEAUTY AND THE BEAST.\n\n\nOnce, long ago, in a certain city whose name is forgotten, there lived\na merchant-master. He had three sons and three daughters, but his\nwife was dead. The man was happy in his children; for the sons were\nwell-grown and brave, and the daughters beautiful. Men called both\nelder maidens passing fair. One, like dusky night, black-haired and\nbrown-eyed--the other, bright as the morning, with long tresses of\nred gold. But the third daughter, born years later, outshone both in\nher perfect loveliness. Such a lovely maid was never seen--so they\nnamed her simply, Beauty. No fairy godmother came with gifts to call\nher so; but she grew so sweet and lovely, that in the city where she\ndwelt they knew her by no other name. Howbeit, many a one said, it\nwas but her happy, innocent soul that gave the sunshine to her face.\nSometimes it would happen, that one of the great masters in painting\nor sculpture of those old times, journeying through that place, and\nbeholding her pass down the street, would beseech her to stay a while,\nthat with pencil or with chisel, he might do some image of that\ngracious, lovesome mien, to make him glad in after days. And thus, it\nmay be, Beauty lives still under the dimness of some old canvas--the\nSt. Catherine or the Virgin Mother of some Holy Family--or smiles\nmay-be, in the carven face of an angel, in the niche beside some old\ncathedral door. Even from the time when she was a little child, Beauty\npossessed the gift of a loving heart. And the love she so freely gave,\nwas paid back to her again in full measure. They who were despised and\nugly, in their wretchedness wanted never a kind word or look from her,\nnor were unholpen by her in their need. Most tenderly she loved all\nGod\u2019s suffering creatures, whether of bird or beast; she took them to\nher heart, and made joy to soothe and comfort them. And she withheld\nnot her small hand from succouring the most ill-favoured of earth\u2019s\nchildren. Self-forgetful, in her large charity, she tended even herbs,\nand such unlovely, blossomless, and scentless plants, as might call\nfor her tender care. And the child would oftentimes fetch water for\nsome poor neglected weed, fainting in the hot sun, or stay to prop some\nweak climbing plant torn down by the rough wind. And Beauty was greatly\nbeloved; and notwithstanding that she never knew a mother\u2019s love, her\nchild days went lightly by, and the rose-light of her own sweet joyous\nspirit shone back to her from all things round. But as the maiden grew\nfrom infancy into youth, her meek heart was pained by her sisters\u2019\npride and arrogance. Many were the sharp cruel words she heard; many a\nhard rebuke must she endure from that ungentle pair. Their pride and\nhardness knew no end. Vain were they of their many lovers, of their\ngold-embroidered gowns, of their goodly persons; for well they wist\nthat of all fair women thereabout,--but for their young sister,--they\nwere held peerless. So they envied Beauty the lovely face that God gave\nher, and the love her kindness won for her. Noble youths sought many a\ntime to gain in marriage one or another of them; but none seemed great\nenough, or rich enough. Yet they would not let them go, but with half\nsmiles and double words, kept the young men following in their train.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cIN THE KING\u2019S GARDEN THE FEAST IS READY, AND THE\nMINSTRELS WAIT.\u201d LEIGHTON, BROS.]\n\nTime sped quickly in the rich city where the merchant dwelt. Day and\nnight the hours danced on to the sound of music and feasting. Beauty\u2019s\nsisters reigned like queens amid their young companions,--damsels\nnigh as fair as they,--but of whom they made not much account, for the\nsplendour of the merchant\u2019s daughters cast a cold shadow all around.\n\nOn great feast days, when the house was set in order, and the sisters\nin their rich apparel, and gold crowns upon their heads, sat under\nsilken canopies, with all their lovers at their feet, right glad\nwere they when Beauty sat not with them. At such times the girl, in\nthe glory of her lustrous loveliness, would call the children, to\ncome forth into the fields and woods, and gather flowers with her;\nor perchance she might steal away to succour in their distress, poor\nmiserable ones, who lay sick and forlorn of hope, in rude dwellings\nbeyond the city walls. Then were the sisters left to reign alone; and\nno prayer did they ever make to Beauty, for her to share the joyance of\nsuch festal days.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nBut that sweet maiden gave no heed at all to such unkindness. She\nwould seek flowers of rare bloom, and therewith weave garlands and\nset them in her sisters\u2019 hair, all unaware that meanwhile sharp stings\nof envious hatred stung them, when they marked how men\u2019s faces lit up\nwith gladness whenever Beauty passed by, clad only in her simple gown.\nAnd so neglect and unkindness did not touch her gentle life. And home\nwas beyond all things dear to her, for the great love and reverence\nshe bore her father. Dearer moreover than aught else beside, save\nonly his gold (which was indeed no hoarded wealth), was the youngest\nborn to him. Yet the prince-merchant took most delight withal, in his\nmany-oared galleys and full-sailed ships, which ever and anon went\nout across the harbour bar, and in due course came back into port\ngold-laden, and heavy with precious merchandise from lands beyond the\nsunrise.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nBut Fortune is not always kind, and there be many winds both fair and\nfoul; and black days there be, when the Fates send forth a wind, which\nblows no good to any living soul. So fared it with the merchant. For on\na day, watchers upon the high watch-tower, out-worn with long waiting,\nand with gazing seawards in vain, heard the clatter of iron shoes upon\nthe beaten way below. And anon came messengers on swift coursers from\nsome outland place, who did their message, and cried out to the men\nto cease their watch, for that the ships would return no more. They\ntold how fierce storms had arisen, and had so buffeted the ships that\nthey drove right upon the rocks; the heavy cargo sank down, and all had\nperished in the sea. Thus sorrow and a great heaviness fell upon the\nmerchant and all his house. The elder daughters slept not, nor ate,\nfor two days and two nights. No more dreams of pride for them. No more\ndays of idle joy. Fortune hid her face, and the world hid hers, for it\nhad come to pass that the rich man, was on a sudden, poor. The suitors\nmelted away, every one, like ghosts at cockcrow. And not one had said,\n\u201cStay with us; my home is thine.\u201d Beauty, it is true, might abide\nin that city, a well-loved, honoured wife; but ruin and unhappiness\nhad crept up to the door, and, like a deadly snake, enfolded all her\nfather\u2019s house: and she cared not to live at ease, when they who were\ndear to her, might scarce have bread to eat. Her brothers knit their\nbrows, and spake no word good or bad; only, they laid by in the great\npainted chest, their swords, and gay clothing of furred mantles and\nplumed caps, and went to toil in the fields.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nLeagues away, on a barren sandy ridge above the sea, in long-past\nyears, the sea-kings had built them a stronghold. Little of it now had\nfire and war and time\u2019s long decay left whole, save one tempest-shaken\ntower. And under the tower a village, where dwelt rude fisher folk. A\npoor place withal for he who was once a rich lord! A possession that\nno man might take much pride in. But thither the ruined merchant now\nmust wend, to make his abode there, and strive to win some daily bread,\nin rough toil with the fishing-boats. So the man with his children\ndeparted, and came to dwell in the tower on the grey hill, amidst of\nwretched huts. And what scanty gear they had, was carried on the backs\nof one or two hired mules. It was a dark and windy night, the night\nwhen they came there, in the season of the year that leaves first turn\nfrom green to gold, and barley sheaves stand in the fields, and the\nvintage is done. The sun had arisen in the morning when Beauty opened\nthe old brown door and looked out from under its low-browed arch. Far\ndown, beyond the curving yellow sands, lay a great sea-plain, silver\nbright, glittering in changeful lights and colour. Up to the roots of\nthe far-off white mountains, olive woods clothed all the land with\nmists of shimmering grey. Corn-fields lay anear, between long stretches\nof purple-shadowed forest. And the girl laughed for gladness of heart,\ncalling aloud to her sisters to come and behold with her this glorious\nnew wonderland where Fate had led them. But they, so soon as they came\nand stood beside the open door, did but cast one glance down upon those\npoverty-stricken huts, below the steep hard by,--then muttering one to\nthe other, \u201cBetter in our graves than here!\u201d they turned away their\nfaces from God\u2019s earth and sea: and therewith, through sore repining\nand complaint, they both fell sick: and on their hard beds made what\ncheer they might with empty dreams, and lamentation for the goodly days\nthat had been.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n[Illustration]\n\nIn the old homestead on the hill, the year wore on merrily, for Beauty\nmade great sunshine in that place. Her light step and the music of her\nhappy voice seemed everywhere--all about the house, in the low dark\nrooms and up and down the creaking stair. A glory seemed to shine round\nher lovely face when you saw it at the door. Like the wild birds, she\nwas for ever flitting here and there, and singing as she went. She lent\nthe young strength of her white arms to the ancient crone who kept the\nhouse. She came wherever she was called. It was Beauty who drew the\nwater and kneaded the cakes, and led the cows to pasture in the dewy\ngrass-lands in the morning. It was Beauty who set the table, and made\nready for father and hungry brothers against their return at evening,\nfrom the long day\u2019s work. Right glad and willing was she, to labour\nfrom red dawn to dark, for the love she bore them. And whatever work\nshe set her hand to, wheresoever she did any service, all things she\ntouched seemed nobler, since that she had to do with them. But greater\njoy she had otherwhile, on the days when she was sent to keep goats\nupon the hill. Strong and light of foot herself as a young kid, she\nclimbed the rugged paths among the rocks, following after her wayward\nherd. Many a day would she wander with them through the great woods\ntill the sun was low. But ever as she went, on the hills under the\nblue sky, or through the forest amid the green darkness of noonday,\nsea and sky, and sun and shadow, taught the maiden marvellous things.\nMany a secret did the wind whisper; many a strange tale her eyes read\nin the flowery grass; many a song, for her alone, sang the mountain\nstream, hurrying over the stones. And when Beauty led home her flock\nat sun-down, after such sweet days as these they noted how, when she\ncrossed the threshold and came into the dark house-room, her eyes would\nshine with a diviner light, than the full health of youth only might\ngive.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nDays and months went by; till in the second winter, one morning a\nweary horseman drew rein at the door. He told that the merchant\u2019s\nheaviest-laden ship, one of those long since given up for lost, had on\na sudden sailed into a distant sea-port, and now lay safely anchored in\nthe bay. Loud were the rejoicings that day within the grey old tower\non the hill. Joy and laughter filled all hearts. The elder sisters\nstraightway lost themselves in happy day-dreams of a golden coming\ntime; of a joyous life to be lived once more, when they should return\nto the great rich city. They hastened their father\u2019s quick departure\nfor the ship; but as needs must, their farewells were long, for they\nprayed him to bring back to them many a rich thing that their hearts\ndesired--jewelled coifs, and silken gowns and gold-embroidered stuffs;\nstores of perfumed gloves and precious stones; and golden chains, and\nstrings of pearls. Each sister longed after something better, and of\nhigher price than the other. So the merchant promised all, and made\nready to be gone. Then Beauty put up her sweet face to bid farewell,\nas she stood beside the horse, and held his stirrup for the beloved\nfather. And he stooped down to kiss her, saying, \u201cAnd wilt thou nought,\nthou best-loved child? Choose only what thing is most rare and longed\nfor, it is granted.\u201d\n\n[Illustration]\n\nBut Beauty whispered, \u201cBring me a white rose, my father,--a little\nwhite rose!\u201d\n\nAnd seeing that no words could move her in this, but that she would\nhave a rose, a white rose, he promised that and rode away.\n\nSo in this changing world the evil days for them seemed passed away\nfor evermore. It was now winter, and when that tide drew near that the\nmerchant should come home, Beauty\u2019s sisters sat all day in the little\nturret window watching; or they went pacing up and down the bare grey\nridge, waiting to behold from afar the long train of laden mules. From\nearly morning, through the glaring noon-tide, oftentimes till after\nmoonrise, when long shadows lengthened, still would they keep untiring\nwatch. Small care indeed had they to see again their father\u2019s face; but\ntheir souls yearned for the gold and the silver and the treasure he\nshould bring with him.\n\n[Illustration: THE MERCHANT FOUND A LITTLE DOOR IN THE WALL, AND HE\nOPENED IT, AND WENT INTO THE BEAST\u2019S GARDEN. LEIGHTON, BROS.]\n\nAlas! the longed-for hour, when at last it came, was in no wise like\nthe picture that eager greed had held up before their minds\u2019 eye. Bad\nluck still clave fast to the ill-starred merchant; or so it seemed;\nfor when he came anear the wished-for harbour, he saw indeed amidst\ncrowded masts a little smouldering smoke and flame, and folks running\nto and fro upon the quay; but his own good ship with her bales of\ncostly merchandize, he never saw. That very night, by misadventure,\nsome spark from the shipmen\u2019s fire had fallen unheeded, and the ship\nhad burned down to the edge of the cold water. Thus sore smitten, and\nin great heaviness, the merchant must wend home again. Poor had he left\nit, and poor must he return. Full well might cruel fancy now paint\nfor him--as wearily, with down-bent head, he turned to fare back the\nway that he had come--the grief of such an empty home-coming. \u201cAlas!\u201d\nhe sighed, as he looked round across the wide wintry plain, \u201cunhappy\nthat I am! I cannot even take home with me the one little white rose\nfor Beauty.\u201d And so, very sorrowfully, did he ride on for many a weary\nmile, in the rain and the wind. Lost in troubled thought, he forgot\nto mark which way his horse might go. On a sudden the creaking sound\nof thick branches overhead, with storms of dry dead leaves whirled\npast his face, and many a wild sound, as of the great north wind in\nwinter battling with the strong-limbed forest-trees, aroused him and\nrecalled him to himself. All around seemed strange, and unlike the\nroad he knew. Painfully for a time the merchant and his tired beast\nmade head against the driving blast. The forest path seemed as though\nit would never end; the wind blew as though it would never cease.\nBut at sundown there fell a calm. The dark clouds broke, and in the\nclear evening light, the man turned into a way he deemed that he had\ngone, once in older times, under shelter of a grey stone wall. On the\nright hand, between straight red bolls of tall fir-trees, shone the\nfar-off open country. The wall closed in upon the left; and above the\nmouldering weed-grown coping, from within, rose dark cypress spires\nagainst the sky. Arbutus trees, all a-flame with rich ripe fruit amidst\ngold-green leaves, tossed down their scarlet balls upon the wet stony\nway below. And withal, from the other side came a great sweetness as\nof summer roses upon the air; but a few paces farther on, white roses,\nlike floods of surging foam, overtopped the high wall. Between the\nwhiteness of uncounted roses scarce any green at all might show.\nNow as the merchant beheld these foam-white flowers, he thought on\nBeauty\u2019s simple wish. Then he cast about in his mind how to reach up\nto them; and anon he spied a quaintly-painted gateway in the wall, and\na little door set therein. Without more ado he dismounted, and pushing\nopen the little door, passed through into a fairy garden. Within the\ngreenness of that enchanted space there was not any more winter. Green\npaths overhung by pale-blossomed acacias, led to grassy lawns closed\nin by well-clipt hedges of box and rosemary, and broidered all over\nwith little flowers,--blue, pink, and lilac,--mixt with the short thick\ngrass. Long narrow terraces rising in green steps one above the other,\nset with fruit-trees in full bloom, made lines of lovely colour. Wild\nviolets crept fragrantly about their roots, or hung in purple draperies\nfrom step to step. Under the shadowy dark-stemmed trees blood-red\nlilies burnt with a sultry glow. Here and there, in the blackness of\nsome deeper gloom, pure star-like flowers, poised on tall slender\nstalks, gleamed white and ghostly. But everywhere about that garden,\nroses grew and bloomed, scattering their delicate petals upon the\ngrass. Through the silence came a low murmuring of unseen waters; the\nthrush sang hidden amid thick leaves. The man scarce could tell if all\nthe sweetness of that place were truth, or but woven magic. How this\nmight be seemed nought to him, so he might pluck a living rose or two\nfor Beauty. Yet he trod lightly, lest a spell should snap, and the\ndream melt away, leaving him alone in some drear bleak waste.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nBut as he held the plucked flowers in his hand, a dread of some\nnameless unknown thing began to chill the man\u2019s heart. Night seemed\ngathering round. The loud birds ceased their music; the merry-voiced\nfountains ran dully; and a shuddering dreadful sound, creeping up\na-nigh him, turned all his blood to ice. The heavy dragging rustle\nas of some huge beast beneath the trees, became at length a grizzly\nshape, on the open green. The man was \u2019ware of great blackness and\nthe grating of teeth. What more he could never tell, for betwixt the\nstrange darkness and his mortal fear, standing there unarmed,--nought\nin his right hand but some stolen roses,--sight failed him. Then the\nBeast stayed still, and the roses dropt from the man\u2019s grasp; and that\nBeast spake in a voice which was terrible to hearken to, so shaken was\nit by despair and rage.\n\n\u201cWho, wretched man! art thou, that darest enter here and steal my\nroses? Meet were it did I slay thee there where thou standest!\u201d\n\nBut now the merchant, in whose breast there beat no woman\u2019s heart, gat\ntogether all his strength and wit. So he turned and faced the Beast.\n\n\u201cThat were poorly done, fair sir,\u201d said he, \u201cto slay an unarmed\nman--one, too, less mighty than thyself. The child shall yet win\nsweeter flowers than these; take back thy roses and let me be gone.\u201d\nAnd he cast down the flowers, and spurned them with his foot.\n\nBut the Beast\u2019s wrath on a sudden changed, as with a grievous voice he\ngroaned, \u201cFor whom, then, art thou thus lost?\u201d\n\n[Illustration: UPON THE STRANGE PRICKLY LEAVES, SOME ONE HAD CURIOUSLY\nCARVED BEAUTY\u2019S NAME.... THE BEAST CAME NEAR, AND THE ROSES FELL FROM\nHIS GRASP. LEIGHTON, BROS.]\n\nThen the man told him all; of his bootless journey to the distant\nseaport,--of how his eldest daughters had desired jewels and gold\nraiment, and of Beauty\u2019s wish for one white rose.\n\nSilently, the Beast heard; then, drawing a deep breath, like a human\nsigh, he spake again very softly. \u201cMerchant,\u201d he said, \u201cdeath is the\nprice they pay who steal that without which life to me were one long\ndeath. But if life still to thee is sweet, thou must bring hither\nthat young maid of whom thou spakest. Half a year will I await her\ncoming; but if she come not then, in thine own house will I seek her,\nand little more joy will life hold then for thee or her. So get thee\ngone, and take this rose for Beauty.\u201d With that the Beast brake off\na rose, and thrust it into the merchant\u2019s hand, who, for a moment\nstood still, and heard in the glimmering twilight that huge creature\ndepart, crashing and sliding backward amid the trees. Then the man,\ndazed and bewildered, hasted back to the little door in the wall. Hard\nby stood the chestnut horse, tied to a tree, watchful and impatient.\nOn the earth lay a white thin covering of snow, and on the snow the\nmorning sun shone fair. The horse and his rider made good speed along\nthe echoing white road, till at the border of the wood the merchant\nslacked rein, and there, a little way down the hill before him, he saw\nthe well-known homestead. The grey ridge and the ancient tower, the\ncurving shore, and blue sea beyond. And now, slowly pacing down the\nsteep way, he fell on meditation. Almost he thought within himself,\nlast night\u2019s strange chance to be a fearsome dream. But the rose in his\nhand shot back a terror that no vision, but indeed a dismal fate, had\novertaken him; and that now, joyless and unholpen must he abide. Wild\nthoughts beset him: thoughts of the deep broad water and safe haven\non that other side; deadly thoughts to make an end of life and misery\nfor him and for the child he loved. Yet, as day drew on, Care and Fear\nfled. Hope once more danced lightly in the man\u2019s soul, for neither\nage nor misfortune had yet quite dulled his cheer; and now, upon the\nlevel road, he joyously spurred on to meet his children waiting at\nthe door. You may well believe how with bitter and hard words Beauty\u2019s\nsisters bemoaned themselves to see their father\u2019s poor return. No long\ntrain of sumpter mules and servants! Only Beauty was glad. She laughed\ngently, and made him joy and sweet welcome as he kissed her, putting\nthe dear-bought rose into her hand. But soon must the bitter tale be\ntold. So with set white face, and amid choking sobs, the father must\nconfess how with that hateful vow he had sold his child\u2019s life. But she\nembraced him in her arms, and with loving smiles bade him take heart,\nand put fear from him; for that although half a year was but a little\nspace to live, there yet was time for a few happy days, and for hope,\nwithin a while to light upon some escape from misery. As for the three\nbrothers, they made light of the matter; but when they knew all the\ntruth, swore great oaths that their sister should not go.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nDays and weeks went quickly by in cloud and sunshine. Each night\nthe little load of trouble, or it might be peace, that the day had\ngathered, slipped away into the Great Storehouse, and was forgotten.\nOne wretched thought only remained in the darkness and silence to\nperplex the hapless merchant with a dull surprise and bewildered dread\nof what soon or late must come. As for Beauty, since her father hid\nwithin himself the secret terror that after the busy day was done,\nlaid wait and beset for him the dark hours, she wasted small care on\naught, but how best to make cheer in their poor house. But ofttimes\nwould a sharp pain strike athwart the father\u2019s heart, when at evening\nhe wended home from the fishing or the field. Then, perchance, after\nthe cliff was climbed, he would look towards Beauty\u2019s casement in the\ntower--there, amid bud and blossom, a face would smile down upon him,\nfairer than any rose. For in some old earthen pot, that dear-bought\nbriar had been set, and it had taken root and grown into a goodly\nplant. And Beauty tended it well, and loved her blooming rose-tree, and\nnever a doubt nor fear of any deadly Beast beclouded her strong heart.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nBut now, when summer-tide was full, on a blue June day, when his\nsons were all away in the fields, the man looked wanly in his young\ndaughter\u2019s face; and she, well knowing what that was he would say to\nher, went and wrapt a grey mantle round her, and set forth with him\nto the outward gate. And there she bade farewell to her sisters, who\nfollowed, making some hollow show of false sorrow. Tenderly her father\nlifted up the maid and set her upon a lean rough-coated farm horse,\nwhich awaited them, tied to the gate. And then, leading the horse by\nthe bridle-rein,--as in a dream,--they fared forth together on their\nfateful way. Soon the steep path that had wound through barren rocks,\nbegan to cross the sandy plain, and before the sun was high, they had\npassed on into a beautiful green world of young corn, all bedashed\nwith jewelled blooms of blue and scarlet and gold, between the\nthin-eared ranks. Loud sang under the white clouds, whole heavenward\ncompanies of the quivering, grey-winged bird. White cottage walls\ngleamed under deep thatch, each one in its little close of orchard\nor of fragrant walnut-trees. And upon the upland slopes lay many a\nfair homestead, half seen amid the crowding of rich corn-stacks. And\nso the narrowing way led on to the storm blown pines and thickets of\ndwarf oak, which crowned a dark line of hill above. Slowly they toiled\nup the height, for the noonday sun shone hotly down; and there under\nthe shade the twain stayed a while, and undid the little store of\nfood they had to eat by the way, and let their wearied beast go, in\nthe scanty grass near by. When long shadows stretched over the land,\nthey were afoot once more. And now the merchant followed, dumb with\na despair that had no words, while Beauty on her horse went shining\nthrough the wood. Sorrowfully the winds made dole in the leafy boughs\nabove their heads. And ever as they went the trees grew more thick\ntogether, with black night down within the forest depths. Twisted roots\ncrawled serpent-wise across the path, and needs must the travellers go\ncarefully and slow. Night drew on, and the man began to mark the way\nwith care, and sought through the darkness for the old stone wall, he\nthought to be not far from that place. Right so there came to them some\nglimmer of moon-litten stone between the trees, anigh the dimness of\ntheir path. And now the long garden wall echoed back the sound of the\niron-shod hoofs. But smooth and without break seemed that length of\nordered stones. And though the man sought painfully, feeling with his\nhands where the shadows fell thickest, yet it seemed he might never\nfind the little door. Many an odorous wave of delicious fragrance came\nover from the other side. And in the uncertain light, Beauty perceived\nan over-hanging of white roses amidst tangled weeds. And therewithal,\nas in a dream strange things do happen with great ease and likelihood,\nso whilst yet they sought the entrance, on a sudden they were within\nthe garden of the Beast. Light seemed to shine from the far end of a\nwide grassy way, and onward to that light, must they go. After a few\npaces the travellers came anear the lighted windows and open gates of a\nlarge fair manor. Gently her father lifted down Beauty from the horse,\nand leaving him to go whither he would, they entered, dazzled with a\ngreat silvery blaze of light. These twain were utterly alone. No sound,\nno living creature greeted them there.\n\nSo in shivering silence, treading lightly in that marble-pillared\nplace, where the lightest footstep echoed and rang again, they came\nto a marvellous painted hall. Beauty gazed with wonder on the red\nrose-leaves that strewed the floor, on the golden hangings and the\nfestal garlands on the walls, and the banquet spread with care awaiting\nthem. And because their bodies were faint from weariness and hunger,\nthey sat them down on the gold-wrought chairs to make what cheer they\nmight, notwithstanding that their very souls were chilled with dread\nof the yet unseen presence. So they ate and drank; and afterwards,\nas they still sat there, there seemed to grow upon the air, drawing\nfrom distant corners of the house, and along the corridors, a dreadful\nsound, which made them tremble with affright; and the man knew that the\nBeast came nigh. So they began to bid each other farewell. Vainly did\nthe maiden strive to hide her trouble when that perilous shape came\nanear. And first the creature gazed at Beauty, as she shrank back,\nclinging to her father, to whom he spake with a man\u2019s voice, but in\nslow and halting speech: \u201cGood friend, ye be welcome, for well and\ntruly ye have holden your promise.\u201d And then to her--\u201cBeauty, come you\nhere of your will?\u201d\n\nAnd she answered quickly, \u201cYea, in good sooth.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: THE ROOM WHERE BEAUTY SLEPT. AT DAWN, A LADY CAME TO\nCOMFORT HER. LEIGHTON, BROS.]\n\nThe Beast seemed well pleased at that. Nevertheless, in gruesome tones,\nhe required of the merchant to be gone on the morrow, and that he\nmight never behold him any more. Then, with a strange, wistful\nlook at the girl, of mingled ruth and kindness, from under the shaggy\nbeast-like brows, he turned from the lighted chamber, and gat him away\nto the darkness of his unknown den.\n\nSo that night, long after moonset, Beauty and her father still sat\ntogether, hand laid to hand, speaking of past things, and loth to\npart--these two, for whom all the joy of life seemed done--while the\nlights burned low and the summer night waned fast. Overmuch sorrow\nhad made their eyes heavy, and they longed for some short rest before\nthe coming of the day that was to bring such bitter parting. Two fair\nsleeping rooms they found prepared. And at dawn, in the grey light, a\npale woman, clad in long white raiment, stood beside Beauty\u2019s bed. She\ncalled very softly to the girl, bidding her have no fear of aught in\nthat place, but to keep her heart strong and true. Beauty was fain to\ntell this dream to her father, that their parting might not be all too\ndark and hopeless.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nWhen the sun was risen, the merchant looked out, and saw his horse\nwaiting, saddled, by the door. So with white set face he made him\nready; and as though constrained by some dreadful fate, he slowly\ndeparted, nor once looked back to the gate, where Beauty stood in the\ndewy morning light. There was no red in her cheek, and her grey eyes\nwere bright with unshed tears, as from the threshold she watched him\ngo. And so to her the world became desolate; and yesterday seemed far\naway; and full far away and strange, already seemed to her the familiar\nfaces and sounds of home, as ever, fainter and fainter came back the\nring of horse-hoofs along the road, and died at last in the distance.\n\nTherewithal Beauty went back into the silent house. She made no sorrow\nout of measure, for she was great of heart; and the young are strong,\nand slow to cast hope away. And within her soul also lay a little\nhidden hope, most like to prophecy, that even in this place--where\nsome grizzly death might steal out and seize her unawares from the dim\ncorners of her prison--she might light soon upon the golden treasure\nkey, whereby a door should open on the secret way leading back to old\nhappier days, or perchance to some undreamed-of, goodlier world, and\nher heart should win its scarce-known, unpronounced desire.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nDay followed day, and the girl forgot to call the Beast\u2019s house her\nprison. No troublous season of fear and doubt had she, but only long\nsummer days of peaceful sweetness, and nights of dreamless sleep. Daily\nwhen the sun went down, and Beauty sat in the golden hall at supper,\nthe Beast came and sat there with her; and his dreadful noise had\ngrown less fearsome in her ears, and even was as it were, an unheard\nterror. She ate and drank, conversing kindly, and heeding little the\nugliness of the presence that sat anear. Each night after supper,\nthat ill-favoured Beast did ask the lady, \u201cWould she have him to her\nhusband?\u201d And every time she made answer, \u201cNo--that might she never\ndo.\u201d And therewith the Beast would hang down his head, and sigh so\ndolorously that it were marvel to hear. And then Beauty grieved\nvery sorely for him, and full fain was she to pray him to come back,\nwhereas he shuffled from out of the sight of her. But yet her lips\ncould never shape fair words which her true heart forbade.\n\n[Illustration: AFTER SUPPER, EVERY NIGHT, THE BEAST ASKED BEAUTY TO BE\nHIS WIFE: EVERY NIGHT SHE SAID HIM NAY. LEIGHTON, BROS.]\n\nDays went by, until the added sum of them at last made three long\nyears: and still Beauty\u2019s life passed on dreamfully, in the palace\nof the Beast. But for the sweet-voiced thrushes and nightingales,\nwhich made melody in the rose-garden without, all day long and after\nsun-down,--the silence of that solitude might have made the girl\u2019s\nheart sad. Within the dusky pine-branches, wild doves had their nests,\nand to her ear their note had human tones. Often as she listened would\ntheir never-ending love-plaint seem to bring anigh old home-scenes in\nthat other world, she used, she thought, to know full well.\n\nAfter the three twelvemonths--which in that spellbound place seemed\nbut one summer long--there came a day when the lonely maid wandered\nfurther in the garden than had been her wont. The gold hem of her\ngown slid shining over the daisies and pink petals drifted down from\nthorny brakes upon the grass, as she passed along green paths, to where\nthe flowers and the broad sunshine ceased. Under the beeches, in the\nsun-flecked shade, her feet pressed last year\u2019s crisp brown leaves;\nhard by, under a knot of firs, a little thread of clear water, fell\nsparkling into a marble basin. And Beauty leaned over the sculptured\nedge, while many thoughts both sweet and bitter, went to and fro\nacross her brain. Down in the clear pool wavered gleams of some other\nblue--shadows of other, not familiar, branching trees; till, as she\ngazed into that little shallow, she deemed some picture lay there.\nThrough the leaves she dimly beheld, as in a very far distance, an old\ngrey tower, on a sandy ridge, beside the rippling sea. Coldly shone the\ndistant sunlight on the tower. The heavy iron-studded door stood wide\nopen; and there in the weed-grown court browsed the white goats, or\nclimbed the ruined wall, to reach down wandering tendrils of wild vine\nrooted in the stones. Very solitary did that old grey tower seem, as,\ndimmed with gathering tears, her eyes sought, but all in vain, one whom\nshe might nowhere find; then, as she gazed steadfastly, a dead leaf\nfell and blurred the image, erewhile distinct and living.\n\nBeauty was passing heavy when she rose and left the beechen grove. And\nwhen, as she moved again along the fresh grassy pleasance, grey clouds\nhad dulled the sunshine, and a new fear oppressed her joyous spirit.\n\nThat evening-tide, at supper, the Beast might well discover how the\nlady strove, but could not, to hide some sharp grief. Yet so daffish\nwas he withal, that no manner of cheer could he make her, nor yet\nrequire her to say what had gone amiss; but only might he sit before\nher in troubled thought and look askance with down-hung head.\n\nThen at last spake Beauty, in naught misdoubting the Beast (for he had\never shown himself kind and courteous to her, like a knight of old\ntime)--\n\n\u201cSir, I fain would go to see my father for a space. In the little\nfountain under the fir-tree, I saw an image of the tower; but my\nfather, nor none else, I could nowhere see, and therefore I greatly\nfear for him.\u201d\n\nThereupon the Beast made great dole; yet he could in no wise refuse so\nsweet a one anything she would ask, were it much or little.\n\n\u201cFull woe am I of your departing,\u201d he said, \u201cfor I fear me sore that\nyou will not come again.\u201d\n\nBut Beauty answered again, \u201cI promise you of my faith; for and I be not\nsick, that in seven days\u2019 time will I return.\u201d\n\nThen was the Beast comforted; and he gave her a golden ring of quaint\ndevice, whereon was graven an unknown word in antique letters. And this\nring she was to lay under her pillow, on the night before the day set\nfor her return. Then was Beauty cut to the heart when she heard the\nBeast groan, as he turned and went his way.\n\nOn the morrow that place was empty of her sweet presence. For when the\nmaiden awoke, all things were strange about her, and yet remembered\nwell; for she lay in the low poor sleeping room of old days, in her\nfather\u2019s tower by the sea. Beside the bed hung great store of silken\ngowns, very rich, and well beseen with gold and silver embroideries,\nand sewn with pearls and many stones of price. Ill might such royal\nweed beseem that poor dark place, which still she called her home;\nbut since there was no other, she did on in haste, the meanest of\nall that rich apparelling. Then lightly ran down the tottering stair\nto greet the beloved father. The merchant, sitting idle and alone in\nthe house-place, did certainly hear that which he thought to be a\nwell-known step. Yet so smitten was he with grief and long solitude,\nthat scarce he could find will to look up with dull eyes, when Beauty\ncame anear, and stood in the low arched doorway. There, for a moment,\nshe made sunlight in the dark with her lovely face and the sheen of\nher gold-wrought gown. And when she was kneeling at his feet, scarce\nindeed might Beauty persuade her father but that she were some hollow\nshape, sent of enchantment to mock his wretchedness; no, scarcely,\neven when she held him close, embracing him with loving arms, and had\nkissed him a hundred times could he believe it was herself. And as at\nlast he let yield to joyful welcome, and with hand clasping hand they\nsat together,--they each told other all that had befell since that\nbitter day they parted; she, her bootless fears, her days of unhoped\npeace; and he, of the elder sisters\u2019 marriages, of the three brothers\ngone away with many of that land to fight for the Holy Sepulchre. And\nwhile they made great joy together, and the aged crone began to set\nthe board, right so the trampling of horse-hoofs sounded upon the\nstones without. Beauty looked out, and beheld her sisters with their\nhusbands, at the door. Unbidden guests were they that morn; and with\ntheir coming all the new gladness seemed to die away within the house;\nhearts of those sisters were evil, and in their hands they brought\nno blessing. Yet did Beauty strive to give them such kindly welcoming\nas she might. Some pity, indeed, must she give them; for no happy life\nwas theirs. The elder had espoused a very proud and learned man, but\npoor; and by him she was greatly despised. And the younger had for\nhusband a rich man, of very seemly person, who cared nought for other\ngoodliness than his own; and had scorn for his wife, withal she was so\nfair. So when they were lighted down from their horses, and had come\ninto the house, and had begun to consider their young sister, how she\nwas well beseen like a princess, in her shining gown, though serving\nthem with such kindly grace, they were passing envious; and hatred,\nlike a sharp thorn, pierced through their jealous hearts. Sore grieved\nwere they when they knew that to her the Beast was in no wise perilous.\nBut to her sisters Beauty made but short the tale of how she fared in\nthat place. So within a while the two sisters departed secretly into\nthe green close behind the old tower, and came to a little hazel-brake\nanigh the wild; and there they sat them down and made complaint,\nbewailing them with tears and moans.\n\n[Illustration: ONE SISTER\u2019S HUSBAND, LIKE NARCISSUS OF OLD, WORSHIPPED\nHIS OWN BEAUTY. BUT THE OTHER WAS FULL OF LEARNING. LEIGHTON, BROS.]\n\n\u201cNow are we in most evil plight,\u201d said they, \u201cthat our sister, younger\nthan we, should go thus apparelled in silken stuffs, and live in a\nking\u2019s palace\u201d (for so they called the house of the Beast). And then\nthey took secret council one with the other; for they said, \u201cso we may\nbut prevail to keep her here yet another seven nights over and above\nthe time she appointed with the Beast, he will surely be avenged of her\nfalsehood; and then shall no gold save her life!\u201d\n\nAnd none heard save only the raven who abode in the trees. So these two\nwomen came softly back into the house; and they showed unwonted love\nfor their sister, making much of her, and praying her to forget their\nmauger, and the wrong they had done her in the old days before time\npast.\n\n[Illustration: ONLY THE RAVEN IN THE BRAKE, SAW THE SISTERS WEEP FOR\nRAGE, AND HEARD THEM PLOT HER DEATH. LEIGHTON, BROS.]\n\nAnd the maid, in her guilelessness, heard with joy their false words.\nAnd when the day was almost come that she should depart they made show\nof grief, and besought her to abide with them but one seven nights\nlonger. Beauty looked to her father; but he covered his face, and dared\nsay nought, for he was sore afeared of the Beast\u2019s wroth.\n\nAnd so for that while Beauty forgot her promise, and let herself be\nforsworn, and yielded her will to those two women, nought witting of\ntheir most felon device. Thus it came to pass that she was well-nigh\nlost for the bitter malice of them that wished her death.\n\nYet in all these days the maid was not glad; but greatly troubled\nwhen she thought on the Beast. Very pitiful waxed Beauty\u2019s heart, as\nshe remembered of all her friend\u2019s goodness, and his sorrow of her\ndeparting. And so it happened, that on the tenth night after, she\ndreamed a dream. She beheld the Beast as he lay a-dying under a great\ntree in the garden. And the garden was a very great way off, and she so\nfar away, she might not help him in his sore need; nor call to him, nor\nwith tender words hold him back from death. With that great horror she\nawoke in the darkness, and weeping, gave herself the blame.\n\n\u201cAlas!\u201d she said, \u201cmy broken faith; alas! that ever I should have thus\nforsook my friend; and if he die, now must I grieve to my life\u2019s end.\u201d\nThen she hastily laid her magic ring under the pillow, which was all\nwetted with her weeping. And soon for heaviness she fell on sleep. In\nthe springing of the day Beauty opened her eyes, and, behold, she lay\nin the green-hung chamber wherein she had so greatly longed to be.\n\nThe golden autumn day rose fair and still on the silent manor and the\ngarden of the Beast. All the long hours until evensong, must the maiden\nwait; then he would show himself, and she would comfort him, and tell\nhim of sweet coming days, wherein she never more would leave him.\n\nThe golden hours sped slowly. Slowly and softly fell the rose-leaves\nupon the grass. The song-birds that day hid in hushed silence, anear\nthe garden bowers where Beauty sat alone, weaving flowers and fruits\nand birds unknown to earth, upon the silken loom. And evermore the\nlonged-for evening hour drew on. Anon she heard the clock smite, and\nshe gat her with haste into the house.\n\nIn the hall the table was covered, and Beauty, arrayed in a broidered\ngown of red samite, sat in her place and waited. No fresh garlands\nbehanged the walls, but only brown and withered leaves. And she wist\nnot anything of the Beast; and she had no mind to eat and drink, for\na cold dread overcame her that some misadventure had befallen him,\nwhiles she listened for the least sound whereby she might know that\nhe approached. But when he came not within a while, she must needs go\nseek him throughout the manor. But the chambers were empty, and the\ngarden void, and whenas she called none answer came. Then she bethought\nher of the little fountain in the wood, and she ran thither. There,\nindeed, under a pine-tree upon the grass, lay that hapless Beast in\na deadly swoon. And Beauty sank down upon her knees beside him, and\nraised his head in her arms; and it dread her sore but that he were in\ngreat peril of death. And then she grieved, and gave herself reproach\nand upbraiding. And, \u201cOh, dear Beast! what aileth thee?\u201d she cried.\n\u201cAlas! that ever he saw me to have such sorrow.\u201d\n\nBut when she had fetched a little water, and had put it in his mouth,\nthe Beast came to himself. So he opened his eyes and looked upon the\ngirl full sadly. And therewithal he said, in a full weak voice, \u201cAlas!\nfair maid; why hast thou so long delayed? for now I fear me I shall\ndie: for I feel well, the deep draughts of death draw to my heart.\u201d\n\nThen did she make great moan, and besought the Beast of his love for\nher not to die and forsake her. But he seemed as though he heard not;\nand ever his breath came slower, and more faint. And then Beauty fell\nto weeping as though her heart would break; and remembering her of all\nhis gentleness and kindness, and that now he was like to die through\nher unkindness, in her anguish she called the Beast her love, her only\nlove.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nWith that word there befell a strange adventure. But one moment agone,\nthe maid had holden in her arms the Beast\u2019s grim, hairy head; and in\nher grief she knew not how it slid away from her embrace. For when\nshe looked, there was nought but crushed leaves and grass where the\ndying Beast had lain. Also a dreamlike brightness seemed to mingle\nsilverly about the dusk of evening, as though the moon had risen, or\nthat starlight trembled upon the gloom. Then all bewildered and amazed,\nshe deemed that some young prince, clad in rich clothes, with jewelled\nmantle and scarlet plume, stood anear. So, forgetting fear in her\ntrouble, she prayed him without more ado to tell her, \u201cHad he seen the\nBeast? For,\u201d she said, \u201cmine own dear Beast lay here but now, and like\nto die, and he is gone, and I know not where he is become.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: AH DEAR BEAST, SHE SAID: ALAS THAT MY UNKINDNESS SHOULD\nTHUS SLAY THEE. LEIGHTON, BROS.]\n\nBut the strange prince held his peace, and none answer gave he to her\nmost piteous cry; only he kneeled down beside the maid, and then full\ngently did he kiss her golden hair, that spread all wide adown\nher neck, and then he kissed her red lips; and whenas, wondering and\nangered, she drew from him, and would have started away, he took her in\nhis arms and said, \u201cOh lovely one, do you not then know me? Look at me,\nand see; for indeed I am that Beast, and he was me!\u201d\n\nBut Beauty trembled, nor durst she look; for well she knew there had\nbeen some enchantment; and, sithence, it was a man and no Beast that\nspake, yet in his voice, and in the words he said, she seemed to\nhearken to the friend that she had lost erewhile. Then quick tears, but\nnot of sorrow, filled her eyes, for an unwonted thing had happened;\nyet was it to her but as the fulfilment of some dear dream in old,\nforgotten, long-past days.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nAnd so, alone together there, amid the brown dusk of coming night, for\na little space, were they silent for very joy. And then did Beauty, in\nall maiden trust, give him, that had been the Beast, her true word, and\npromised that she would be his wedded wife. Then he lifted her to her\nfeet, and led her home along those same sweet grassy paths. And as they\nwent, he told her all the tale of the cruel spell which had bound him\nsince these many woful years, in that unhappy shape, and how nought\nbut a dear maiden\u2019s love might set him free, and of how great had been\nhis hopeless love for her.\n\nSilently the white moths floated by. The gentle winds of summer sighed\nodorously, and stirred the broad hazel-leaves on either hand the close\ngreen alley, as they went; while loose-petalled roses bloomed and fell\nin aisles of overarching sweetness.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTherewith a great clearness shone around them; and as they came nigh\nthe house, burning lights shone from the windows; and there was music,\nand the noise of merry voices mingling in songs and laughter. Strange\nsounds, long unheard in that still house! Then from the door the\nBeast\u2019s mother, a sweet and noble lady, came forth to meet them; and\ngreat joy made she, as she beheld her son, coming in his own likeness,\nas he was or that strange magic was laid on him. And then she embraced\nBeauty, and with her heart she made her right welcome.\n\nNow the lady was a queen. She was the same that came afore to Beauty in\na dream to comfort her.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n[Illustration]\n\nHere then endeth the tale; sith it were over-long to tell of the revels\nand the dances, and of how the golden Hall was engarlanded with roses,\nand of the great feast held there, on the day that Beauty and the Beast\nwere wedded together; nor need we tell, of how the merchant-master\nwas called from his lonely tower, and came thither on his fair child\u2019s\nmarriage morn; whenas his sorrowful days had end for evermore; and\nof how his three brave sons became most noble knights, and greatly\nrenowned for the destroying of many pagan knights and giants, and of\ndivers fell beasts and griffins of that time.\n\n[Illustration: LOVE IS THE MAGIC, THAT MAKES ALL THINGS FAIR. LEIGHTON,\nBROS.]\n\nBut Beauty\u2019s sisters, came never near that happy house. For wit you\nwell, the winter rasure of such-like cankers, may not approach the\ngreen summer, wherein the flower of true love flourisheth.\n\n\nTHE END.\n\n\n\n\n  Transcriber's Notes:\n\n  Italics are shown thus: _sloping_.\n\n  Variations in spelling and hyphenation are retained.\n\n  Perceived typographical errors have been changed.","title":"Beauty and the beast : $b An old tale new-told, with pictures","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":8999}