Chapter II: Part 2

“You are hardly polite,” answered the fairy, without putting herself in a passion. “Well, then, since you are so disobliging, I give you for a gift, that at every word you speak there shall come out of your mouth a snake or a toad.”

As soon as her mother saw her coming, she cried out, “Well, daughter?”

“Well, mother,” answered the rude girl, throwing out of her mouth a viper and a toad.

“Oh, mercy!” cried the mother, “what is this I see? It is her sister who is the cause of all this, but she shall pay for it”; and immediately she ran to beat her.

The poor child fled away from her and went to hide herself in the forest near by. The King’s son, as he was returning from hunting, met her, and seeing how beautiful she was, asked her what she was doing there all alone, and why she was crying.

“Alas, sir, my mother has turned me out of doors!”

The King’s son, seeing five or six pearls and as many diamonds fall from her mouth, desired her to tell him how that happened. Then she told him the whole story.

The King’s son fell in love with her, and, considering that such a gift was worth more than any marriage portion any one else could bring, conducted her to the palace of the King, his father, and there married her.

As for her sister, she made herself so much hated that her own mother turned her out of doors. The miserable girl, after wandering about without finding any one who would take her in, went away to a corner of the wood and there died.

PUSS IN BOOTS

Once upon a time there was a miller who, when he died, had nothing to leave to his three sons but his mill, his ass, and his cat. The division was soon made. Neither the notary nor the attorney were sent for; they would soon have eaten up all the poor patrimony. The eldest had the mill, the second the ass, and the youngest nothing but the cat.

The youngest was quite downcast at having so poor a share.

“My brothers,” said he, “may get their living handsomely enough by joining their portions together; but as for me, when I have eaten my cat and made me a muff of his skin, I must die of hunger.”

The cat, who heard all this without appearing to do so, came up to him and said with a grave and serious air, “Do not thus afflict yourself, my good master; you have only to give me a bag, and get a pair of boots made for me,—that I may scamper through the dirt and the brambles,—and you shall see that you have not so poor a portion in me as you imagine.”

Though the cat’s master did not build great hopes on what he said, yet he had seen him play such cunning tricks to catch rats and mice,—such as hanging himself by his heels, or hiding himself in the meal to make believe he was dead,—that he did not altogether despair of his helping him in his misery. When the cat had what he asked for, he booted himself very gallantly, and putting his bag about his neck, he took hold of the two strings with his fore paws, and went into a warren where there were a great many rabbits. He put bran and parsley into his bag, and stretching himself out at full length as if he were dead, he waited for some young rabbits, not yet acquainted with the snares and tricks of this world, to come and rummage his bag for what he had put into it.

Scarcely had he lain down before his wish was fulfilled. A rash and foolish young rabbit jumped headlong into his bag, and Master Puss immediately drew close the strings, and killed him without mercy. Proud of his prey, he went with it to the palace and asked to speak with the King. He was shown upstairs into the King’s apartment, and making a low bow, said to him: “I have brought you, sire, a rabbit from the warren of my Lord the Marquis of Carabas [for that was the title which he was pleased to give his master], which he has commanded me to present to your Majesty with the assurance of his respect.”

“Tell your master,” said the King, “that I thank him, and that he has given me great pleasure.”

Another time he went and hid himself among some standing corn, holding his bag open as before, and when a brace of partridges ran into it, he drew the strings, and so caught them both. He then went and presented these to the King, as he had previously done with the rabbit which he took in the warren. The King in like manner received the partridges with great pleasure, and ordered his servants to reward him.

In this way the cat continued for two or three months to carry to his Majesty from time to time game of his master’s taking. One day when he knew that the King was intending to take the air along the riverside with his daughter, who was the most beautiful Princess in the world, he went to his master and said: “If you will follow my advice, your fortune is made. You have only to go and bathe in the river, just in the place I shall show you, and leave the rest to me.”

The Marquis of Carabas did what the cat advised, without knowing what would be the good of doing so. While he was bathing, the King passed by, and the cat began to cry out with all his might: “Help! help! my Lord Marquis of Carabas is drowning!”

At this noise the King put his head out of the coach window, and, seeing it was the cat who had so often brought him presents of game, commanded his guards to run immediately to the assistance of his lordship the Marquis of Carabas.

While they were drawing the poor marquis out of the river the cat came up to the coach and told the King that while his master was bathing there had come by some rogues who ran off with his clothes, though he had cried out “Thieves! thieves!” several times as loud as he could.

The cunning cat had hidden them under a great stone.

The King immediately commanded the officers of his wardrobe to run and fetch one of his best suits for the Lord Marquis of Carabas.

The King loaded the marquis with a thousand attentions, and as the fine clothes he had given him set off his good looks (for he was well made and comely), the King’s daughter found him very much to her liking, and the Marquis of Carabas had no sooner cast two or three respectful and somewhat tender glances in her direction than she fell in love with him to distraction. The King insisted on his getting into the coach and taking the ride with them. The cat, overjoyed at seeing how well his plan was beginning to succeed, ran on before, and coming upon some countrymen who were mowing a meadow, he said to them, “Good people, if you do not tell the King, who will presently pass this way, that the meadow which you are mowing belongs to my Lord Marquis of Carabas, you shall be chopped as small as herbs for the pot.”

The King did not fail to ask the mowers to whom the meadow they were mowing belonged.

“To my Lord Marquis of Carabas,” they answered all together, for the cat’s threat had frightened them.

“You have here a very fine piece of land, my Lord Marquis,” said the King.

“Yes, sire,” replied the marquis, “this is a meadow which never fails to yield a plentiful harvest every year.”

The cat, who still went on before, met some reapers, and said to them, “Good people, if you do not say to the King, who will presently pass this way, that all this corn belongs to the Marquis of Carabas, you shall be chopped as small as herbs for the pot.”

The King, who passed by a moment after, wished to know to whom all that corn before him belonged.

“To my Lord Marquis of Carabas,” replied the reapers; and the King was again very well pleased with the marquis.

The cat continued to go before the carriage and say the same words to every one he met, and the King was astonished at the vast estates of my Lord Marquis of Carabas.

The cat came at last to a stately castle, the master of which was an ogre, the richest ever known; for all the lands the King had been passing through belonged to this castle. The cat, who had taken care to inform himself who this ogre was, and what he could do, asked to speak with him, saying he could not pass so near his castle without having the honor of paying his respects to him.

The ogre received him as civilly as an ogre could, and made him sit down.

“I have been assured,” said the cat, “that you have the gift of being able to change yourself into all sorts of animals, if you have a mind to; that you can, for example, transform yourself into a lion or an elephant.”

“That is true,” answered the ogre roughly; “and to convince you, you shall see me now become a lion.”

The cat was so terrified at the sight of a lion so near him that he sprang away, and climbed up on the roof, but not without much difficulty and danger, as his boots were of no use at all for walking upon tiles. A little while after, when he saw that the ogre had quitted the form of a lion, he came down, and owned that he had been a good deal frightened.

“I have been further informed (but I know not how to believe it),” said the cat, “that you have also the power of taking the form of the smallest animals,—for example, that you can change yourself into a rat or a mouse; but I must own that I hold this to be impossible.”

“Impossible!” cried the ogre; “you shall see.” And at the same instant he changed himself into a mouse and began to run about the floor.

The moment the cat saw the ogre in this form he sprang upon him and ate him up.

Meanwhile the King, who saw, as he passed, this fine castle of the ogre’s, had a mind to go into it. Master Puss, hearing the noise of his Majesty’s coach crossing the drawbridge, ran out, and said to the King, “Your Majesty is welcome to the castle of my Lord Marquis of Carabas.”

“What! my Lord Marquis,” cried the King, “and is this castle yours also? There can be nothing finer than this court, and all the stately buildings that surround it; let us see the interior, if you please.”

The marquis gave his hand to the young Princess, and followed the King who went before. They entered a spacious hall, where they found a splendid collation which the ogre had prepared for some friends who were to visit him that very day, but who dared not enter, hearing that the King was there. The King was so charmed with the good qualities of my Lord the Marquis of Carabas, and his daughter had fallen so violently in love with him, that, seeing the vast estate he possessed, he said to him at the end of the collation, “It depends only on you, my Lord Marquis, if you are not my son-in-law.”

The marquis, with low bows, accepted the honor which his Majesty conferred upon him, and forthwith that very same day married the Princess.

Puss in Boots became a great lord, and never ran after mice any more except for his amusement.

RAPUNZEL

Once upon a time there lived a man and his wife who were very sad because they had no children. These people had a little window at the back of their house which overlooked a beautiful garden full of fine flowers and herbs. There was a high wall around this garden, and no one dared to go into it, because it belonged to a witch of great power, who was feared by everybody.

One day the woman stood at this window, looking into the garden, and saw a bed full of the finest rampion. It looked so fresh and green that she longed to eat some of it. This desire grew every day, and as she knew that she could not possibly have any of it, she pined away and looked pale and miserable. Then her husband was alarmed, and said, “What ails you, dear wife?”

“Ah,” she replied sadly, “if I cannot get some of that nice rampion to eat out of the garden behind our house, I know that I shall die!”

Her husband, who loved her dearly, thought to himself, “Rather than let my wife die, I must bring her some rampion, let the cost be what it may.” So at dusk he climbed over the wall into the witch’s garden, hastily picked a handful of rampion leaves, and took them back to his wife.

She made them into a salad, which she ate with great relish. Indeed, she liked it so very much that the next day she longed for it three times as much as before. She could have no peace until her husband descended into the garden and fetched her some more. So as soon as it was dusk he let himself down again into the garden; but when he had clambered down and was on the other side of the wall, he was terribly frightened, for there, standing before him, was the old witch with a frightful scowl on her face.

“How dare you climb into my garden like a thief and steal my rampion?” she said, with angry looks. “You shall suffer for it.”

“Ah,” he replied, “be merciful to me this time, I pray you! I am only here from necessity. My wife saw your rampion from her window, and had such a desire for it that she would have died if she had not had some of it to eat.”

Then the witch’s anger cooled a little, and she answered: “If that is the case, I will let you take away as much rampion as you like, but on one condition,—that you give me the child that your wife will shortly bring into the world. All shall go well with it, and I will care for it like a mother.”

In his anxiety to get away the man agreed to what she asked, and as soon as the child was born the witch appeared, and having given it the name of Rapunzel,—which is another name for rampion,—she took it away with her.

Rapunzel was the most beautiful child under the sun. When she was twelve years old the witch shut her up in a tower which lay in the middle of a great forest. This tower had neither stairs nor door,—only a little window high up at the very top of the wall. When the witch wanted to enter the tower she stood beneath this window and called:

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair,
That I may climb without a stair.”

Rapunzel had wonderful hair, long, and as fine as spun gold. When she heard the voice of the witch she unfastened her braided tresses, wound them round one of the hooks of the little window, and let them hang loose. They fell down about twenty yards, so that the witch could easily climb up by them.

After things had gone on in this way for a year or two, it happened one day that the King’s son was riding through that part of the forest and passed by the tower. He heard some one singing so beautifully that he stood spellbound, listening. It was Rapunzel, who in her solitude and loneliness was trying to while away the long hours by singing. The Prince longed to see the sweet singer and climb up to her, but he searched in vain for a door into the tower. None was to be found. He rode home, but the song had made such a deep impression on him that he went every day to the wood and listened. One day, when he was standing thus behind a tree, he saw the old witch approach and heard her call:

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair,
That I may climb without a stair.”

Then Rapunzel let down her braids, and the witch climbed up to her.

“So that is the ladder by which one mounts, is it?” said the Prince. “Then I, too, will climb it and try my luck.”

The next night, when it began to grow dark, he went to the foot of the tower and cried:

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair,
That I may climb without a stair.”

The hair fell down at once, and the Prince climbed up by it.

At first Rapunzel was terribly frightened when a man came in, for she had never seen one before; but the Prince spoke to her very kindly, and told her that his heart had been so touched by her singing that he could have no peace until he had seen her. So Rapunzel lost her fear, and when he asked her to marry him she thought, “He is young and handsome, and he will certainly love me far more than old Dame Gothel does”; so she said “Yes,” and put her hand in his.

“I will gladly go with you,” she continued, “but I do not see how I am to get down out of this tower. When you come, bring with you a skein of silk each time, and I will weave a ladder out of them; when it is finished, I will climb down by it, and you shall take me away on your horse.”

They arranged that until the ladder was ready he should come and see her every evening, bringing skeins of silk, for the witch came in the daytime.

The witch knew nothing of all this till one day Rapunzel, not thinking what she was saying, made this remark: “Tell me, Dame Gothel, how is it that you are so much harder to pull up than the young Prince? He is always with me in a moment.”

“Oh, you wicked, wicked child!” cried the witch. “What is this I hear? I thought I had separated you from the whole world, and yet you have deceived me.”

In her rage she seized Rapunzel’s beautiful hair, twisted it round and round her left hand, snatched up a pair of scissors with her right, and snip, snap, she cut it all off; and the beautiful tresses lay on the ground. Then she was so hard-hearted that she took poor Rapunzel to a lonely desert place and there left her to live in utter loneliness and misery.

But on the evening of the day on which she had carried Rapunzel away she fastened the braids which she had cut off to a hook by the window, and when the Prince came and called:

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair,
That I may climb without a stair,”

she let the hair down. The Prince climbed up, but instead of his beloved Rapunzel he found the old witch, who looked at him with angry, wicked eyes, and cried mockingly, “Aha! you thought to fetch your ladylove, but the pretty bird has flown, and the song is still; the cat caught it, and will scratch out your eyes too. Rapunzel is lost to you—you will never see her again.”

The Prince was beside himself with grief, and in his despair he jumped right down from the tower. He escaped with his life, but the thorns into which he fell pierced his eyes out. Then he wandered, blind, about the forest, eating nothing but roots and berries, and constantly lamenting and weeping for the loss of his lovely bride. For some years he wandered about in great misery, and at last he came to the desert place where Rapunzel was living. Suddenly he heard a voice which seemed familiar to him. He walked eagerly toward it, and as he came near, Rapunzel recognized him and fell on his neck and wept. Two of her tears fell upon his eyes, and they became clear again, so that he could see as well as ever.

Then he led her to his kingdom, where they were welcomed with great joy, and they lived happily ever after.

BEAUTY AND THE BEAST

There was once a very rich merchant who had three sons and three daughters. These children had everything money could buy them. The daughters were all pretty, but the youngest was so very beautiful that from her childhood she was always called “Beauty.” This made her sisters very jealous; but they were proud of their wealth and of their position in society, and took pains to be haughty with any people who were not as rich as they.

One day the merchant suddenly lost all his fortune. All that he had left of his vast property was a little house in the country, a long distance from the town. He told his children that they must go there now and work for a living. The two eldest replied that they need not leave town, for they had several lovers who would be glad to marry them. In this they found they were mistaken; their lovers would not look at them now. Because of their pride they had not made real friends, and nobody was very sorry to see them humbled. But every one pitied Beauty, who had always been kind and friendly to every one. Indeed, several gentlemen offered to marry her, though they knew she had not a penny; but she told them she could not think of leaving her father in his trouble.

When they were settled in the country the merchant and his three sons set to work to till the fields. Beauty took care of the house. She rose at four o’clock in the morning, lighted the fires, swept and dusted the house, and got breakfast for the family. At first she found all this very hard, for she was not used to it; but she soon grew stronger and healthier, and prettier than ever. When her work was over she would read, or play on the harpsichord, or sing as she sat at her spinning wheel.

Her two sisters did not know what to do with themselves. They would get up at ten, and idle away the whole day, fretting for the loss of their fine clothes and gay parties. “Do but see that girl!” they would say to one another. “What stupid, low tastes she has to be contented with this kind of life!” But their father thought differently, and loved his youngest daughter more than ever.

After two years, when they were all beginning to get accustomed to this new life, something happened to disturb them again. The merchant received the news that one of his ships, which he had believed to be lost, had come safely into port with a rich cargo. All the sons and daughters were much excited at this news, and believed that their poverty was at an end. The two eldest daughters were wild with joy, and wanted to set out for town at once. When their father was ready to start, they begged him to bring them jewels and rings and rich dresses. Beauty was the only one of the children who had any doubt that this one ship would bring back their fortune; so, not wishing to trouble her father, she asked for nothing. But her father noticed her silence, and inquired, “What shall I bring you, Beauty?”

“Well, dear father,” she said, “since you ask me, I should like to have you bring me a rose. They do not grow about here, and I am very fond of them.”

Beauty did not particularly desire a rose, but she did not wish to seem to blame her sisters by saying she did not want anything.

The merchant set off on his journey, but when he reached the port he was obliged to go to law about the cargo, and it ended in his returning home as poor as he came. He was within thirty miles of home when, in the middle of a large forest, he was overtaken by a heavy snowstorm. He lost his way, and was beginning to fear he should die of hunger and cold, when all of a sudden he saw a light at the end of a long avenue of trees. As he came nearer he found it came from a splendid palace, the windows of which were blazing with light. He entered the courtyard, but, to his surprise, did not meet any one. His horse followed him, and seeing a stable door open, he walked in. The manger was filled with hay and oats, and the poor beast, who was almost famished, fell to eating heartily. His master walked toward the palace, and passed through several splendidly furnished rooms, but still saw nobody. He came to the dining room, where he found a good fire, and a table plentifully spread, and set for one person. As he was wet to the skin, he drew near the fire to dry his clothes, saying to himself, “I hope the master of the house or his servants will excuse the liberty I am taking; I suppose it will not be long before some of them appear.”

He waited for some time, and still no one came; at last the clock struck eleven, and as he was so hungry he could not wait any longer, he helped himself to some chicken, and drank a little wine. Then he opened a door at the end of the hall, and found himself in a room with a very good bed in it. As he was very tired, he closed the door and went to bed.

It was ten o’clock in the morning before the merchant awoke. As he was getting up, he was surprised to find a new suit of clothes in place of his own which were torn and spoiled.

“This palace,” said he to himself, “certainly belongs to some good fairy who has seen and pitied my misfortunes.”

He looked out of the window, but instead of snowy woods he saw the most delightful arbors, filled with beautiful blooming flowers.

He returned to the great hall where he had had supper the night before, and found breakfast ready on a little table. He drank his chocolate, and then went out to look for his horse. As he was passing under an arbor of roses, he remembered Beauty’s request to him, and gathered a branch on which were several roses. Immediately he heard a loud roar, and saw stalking towards him so frightful a beast that he was ready to faint with fear.

“You are most ungrateful,” said the beast in a terrible voice. “I saved your life by admitting you to my palace, and in return you steal my roses, which I value more than anything in the world. But your insolence shall not go unpunished; you shall die for it.”

The poor merchant threw himself on his knees before the beast, and cried: “Pardon me, my lord. I had no intention of offending you by gathering a rose for one of my daughters, who desired me to bring her one.”

“I am not a lord, but a beast,” replied the monster. “I hate flattery and compliments; so do not fancy you can move me by your fine speeches. You say you have daughters; now I will spare you if you will give me one of your daughters. If not, promise that you will yourself return in three months.”

The merchant had no intention of sacrificing one of his daughters, but he knew that if he agreed to come back he should see his children once more. So he promised to return, and the beast told him he might set out when he pleased; “but,” he added, “you need not go empty-handed. Go back to the room in which you slept, and you will see a great empty chest; fill it with whatever you like best, and I will have it taken to your house for you.” Then the beast left him.

“Well,” said the good man to himself, “if I must die, I shall at least have the comfort of leaving my children provided for.”

He returned to the room, and found there heaps of gold pieces. With these he filled the chest. Then he went to the stable, took his horse, and left the palace in a far sadder mood than that in which he had entered it.

In a few hours he reached home, and his children came running out to meet him. Instead of embracing them with joy, he gazed at them sadly and, holding out the branch of roses he had in his hand, said, “Here, Beauty, take them; you little know how much they have cost your poor father.”

Then he told them all that had happened to him. The two eldest sisters began to lament loudly, and to reproach Beauty, saying that it was all her fault.

“See,” they said, “what comes from her pride. She would not ask for such things as we did, but wanted to seem wiser than we; so now she will be the death of our poor father, and yet she does not so much as shed a tear.”

“Why should I?” said Beauty. “It would be useless, for my father shall not suffer on my account. As the beast will accept one of the daughters, I will gladly give myself up in his stead.”

“No, indeed!” said her three brothers; “that shall not be. We will go and find the monster, and either kill him or perish in the attempt.”

“Do not imagine you can do any such thing,” said the merchant. “I have seen him and know that his power is too great. But I will not consent to Beauty’s offer. I am old, and have not long to live, so I can lose only a few years. I am only sorry for you, my children.”

But Beauty insisted, saying, “Indeed, father, you shall not go to the palace without me; you cannot hinder me from following you.”

The merchant was so distressed at the thought of losing his daughter that he quite forgot the chest filled with gold; but at night, when he retired to his room, he found, to his great surprise, the chest standing by his bedside. He decided to say nothing of his riches to his eldest daughters, for he knew they would want to return to town at once; but he told Beauty his secret, and she then told him that while he was away two gentlemen came and courted her sisters. She begged her father to consent to their marriage, and give them their portions, for she was so sweet-tempered that she wished them to be happy.

When the day came Beauty got ready to set out with her father for the home of the beast. The horse took the direct road to the palace, and they arrived there all too soon. As they approached they found the windows brilliantly lighted as before. The horse went at once to the stable of his own accord, and the merchant and his daughter went into the great hall, where they found a table loaded with every dainty and set with two plates. The merchant had no heart to eat, but Beauty, trying to appear cheerful, sat down and served both him and herself. After supper they heard a great noise, and the merchant began to bid his child a sad farewell. In a moment the beast entered. Beauty was terrified at the frightful form, but she tried not to show her fear.

“Good evening, Beauty,” said the beast. “Have you come here willingly?”

“Yes,” she faltered.

“You are very good, and I am greatly obliged to you,” he growled; and turning to the father, he added: “As for you, old man, you are to go your way to-morrow morning, and never to return here again. Good night, merchant. Good night, Beauty.”

“Good night, Beast,” she answered, and the monster withdrew.

Again the merchant tried to persuade Beauty to go back without him, but she would not hear to it. They went to bed, thinking they should not close their eyes all night; but as soon as they lay down they fell fast asleep. Beauty dreamed that a stately and beautiful lady came to her, and said: “I am very much pleased, dear Beauty, with the goodness you have shown in giving yourself to save your father. Do not be afraid; you shall be rewarded. Only do not trust to appearances.”

Beauty told this dream to her father in the morning; but though it comforted him a little, he wept bitterly when he took leave of his dear child, for he feared he might never see her again.

When her father was out of sight poor Beauty could not help crying, but she had made up her mind to be brave, and she proceeded to explore the various rooms of the palace. What was her surprise when she came to a door over which was written, “BEAUTY’S ROOM.” She opened it in haste, and found a magnificently furnished room; but what delighted her most was a large library, a harpsichord, and several music books. She concluded that all this would not be provided for her if she had only a day to live, and she took courage. Her surprise increased when she opened one of the books and found on the first page, in letters of gold, these words:

“Welcome, Beauty! banish fear!
You are queen and mistress here;
Speak your wishes, speak your will,—
You will find them granted still.”

“Alas!” said she, sighing, “there is nothing I wish so much as to see my father and know what he is doing.”

She happened to turn towards a large mirror that was hanging near her, and there she saw her father arriving sadly at home. Her sisters came out to meet him, and in spite of their efforts to look sorrowful, it was plain that in their hearts they were very glad to see him return alone. The picture disappeared, and Beauty felt very grateful to the beast for thus giving her her wish.

At noon she found dinner ready, and was entertained at table with music, though she could see no player. After dinner she found she was very sleepy, and went to lie down in her room. She fell asleep instantly, and dreamed that a handsome young Prince came to her, and said: “Beauty, you need not be so unhappy here as you expect. All your wishes will be granted. Only try to find me out, and love me as I love you, and above all do not trust to appearances.”

In the evening, as she was going to sit down to supper, the beast came and asked leave to sit with her at table. She was frightened, but tried not to show it, saying, “That is as you please.”

“No,” replied the beast, “you alone are mistress here. You need only tell me to go, if my presence troubles you, and I will withdraw at once. Everything here is yours, and I should be much distressed if you were not happy.”

Presently he inquired if she did not think him very ugly.

“Yes,” said Beauty, “but I think you are very kind, too.”

They talked for some time, and Beauty found her fear of him almost gone, when suddenly, just as they were leaving the table, the beast said, “Beauty, will you marry me?”

Beauty was so startled that she could hardly speak, but she faltered out, “Oh, no! Beast.”

“Then good night, Beauty,” said the beast, very sadly, and left the room.

Beauty felt very sorry for him, but she soon went to bed and dreamed of the unknown prince who had been in her mind all day. This time she thought he came and said to her: “Ah, Beauty! why are you so unkind to me? Must I be unhappy always?”

She could not understand it, but when she woke she thought that he must be in some way in the power of the beast, and began to wonder how she could help him.

The days passed quickly enough in the lovely palace. Every evening the beast came to her, and they had entertaining talks together. Beauty began to look forward to his visits, for she had become accustomed to his ugliness, and found him very kind and interesting. But one thing gave her great concern: every night, before he left her, the beast asked her to become his wife. One night she said to him: “Beast, you make me unhappy, for I can only offer you friendship. I cannot love you.”

He begged her at least to promise never to leave him; but Beauty had seen in the glass that day that her father was sick with grief at the loss of her. Her sisters were married and her brothers had gone into the army, so he was all alone. She had so great a longing to see him that she told the beast that she should die if he refused her leave.

“Indeed, I had rather die of grief for your absence,” replied the beast, “than that you should be unhappy. You shall be there to-morrow morning.”

Beauty promised to return in a week, and the beast told her that she had only to lay her ring on the table before she went to bed, when she wanted to come back, and she would find herself in the palace.

When she woke the next morning she found herself in her father’s cottage, and his delight at seeing her soon made him well again. He sent for her sisters, who came with their husbands. They were both unhappily married, one to a man who was so vain of his good looks that he cared nothing for his wife, the other to a man who was so sarcastic that he tired everybody out with his speeches, and teased his poor wife most of all. The sisters were so jealous at seeing Beauty so magnificently dressed, and hearing how kind the beast was to her, that they laid a plan to detain her longer than the week she had intended to stay, in hopes that this might make the beast angry, so that he would devour her. Accordingly, when the week was over, they affected such grief at her departure that Beauty was touched by their affection and agreed to stay longer. She could not help reproaching herself for staying, but she could not make up her mind to wish herself back when they urged her so strongly.

But on the night of the tenth day she dreamed that she saw the beast lying half-dead on the grass in the palace garden. Waking in tears, she reproached herself bitterly for her ingratitude, and rose, put her ring on the table, and then went back to bed, where she fell asleep again. When she woke the next morning she was overjoyed to find herself back at the palace. She put on one of her richest dresses to please him, and waited impatiently till evening; but nine o’clock struck, and still no beast appeared. Then Beauty remembered her dream and ran to the garden to search for him. At last she found the path she had seen in her dream, and there lay the poor beast senseless on the grass. Forgetting his ugliness, she threw herself on him in despair, and felt that his heart was still beating. Then she ran to fetch some water from the spring, and weeping, poured it on his head. The beast opened his eyes, and said faintly: “You forgot your promise, and I did not care to live without you, so I determined to starve myself; but since you are come, I shall die happy.”

“No, you shall not die, dear Beast!” cried Beauty; “for I love you, and want you to be my husband.”

She had scarcely spoken these words when a blaze of light streamed from the palace windows, fireworks were displayed, and triumphant strains of music sounded. Beauty turned to the beast to inquire what had happened, but he had disappeared, and in his place stood the Prince of her dreams, whom she had loved so long. He thanked her for having broken his enchantment.

“But where is my poor beast?” asked Beauty, anxiously.

“I am he,” replied the Prince. “A wicked fairy condemned me to remain in that form till some beautiful maiden should love me and consent to marry me in spite of my ugliness.”

The Prince conducted Beauty to the palace, where they were welcomed by the stately lady of her dream, who was the mother of the Prince, and who thanked her for restoring her son to his proper form. She found her father there, too. The young couple were married the very next day, and the Prince and his beautiful bride were heartily welcomed by his subjects, who had long mourned his absence. Beauty and the Prince reigned happily for many, many, long years.

THE STEADFAST TIN SOLDIER

There were once five and twenty tin soldiers. They were brothers, for they had all been made out of the same old tin spoon. They all shouldered their muskets and looked straight before them. Their uniforms were very smart—red and blue—and very splendid. The first thing they heard in the world, when the lid was taken off the box in which they lay, was the words, “Tin soldiers!” These words were spoken by a little boy, who clapped his hands for joy. The soldiers had been given him because it was his birthday, and now he was setting them out on the table.

Each was exactly like the rest, except one, who had but one leg. He had been cast last of all, and there had not been quite enough tin to finish him; but he stood as firmly on his one leg as the others on their two, and it was he whose fortunes became so remarkable.

On the table on which the tin soldiers were being set out were many other toys, but the nicest of all was a pretty little castle made of cardboard. Through its tiny windows one could see right into the rooms. In front of the castle stood little trees, clustering round a small mirror which was meant to represent a transparent lake. Waxen swans swam on its surface, and it reflected their images.

All this was very pretty, but prettiest of all was a little lady who stood at the open door of the castle. She, too, was cut out of cardboard; but she had on a dress of the finest gauze, with a narrow blue ribbon over her shoulders like a scarf, fastened in the middle with a shining tinsel rose. The little lady was stretching out both her arms (for she was a dancer), and was lifting one leg so high that the soldier could see nothing of it. He thought that, like himself, she had but one leg.

“That would be just the wife for me,” thought he, “if she were not so grand; but she lives in a castle, while I have only a box, and there are five and twenty of us in that. It would be no place for her. Still, I must try to make her acquaintance.”

And so he lay down at full length behind a snuffbox on the table, where he could easily watch the dainty little lady, who continued to stand on one leg without losing her balance.

When the evening came, all the other tin soldiers were put away in their box, and the people of the house went to bed. Now the playthings began to play in their turn. They visited, fought battles, and gave balls. The tin soldiers rattled in their box, for they wanted to join the rest; but they could not lift the lid. The nutcrackers turned somersaults, and the slate-pencil ran about on the slate. There was such a din that the canary woke and began to speak, and in verse, too. The only ones who did not stir from their places were the Tin Soldier and the Lady Dancer. She still stood on tiptoe with outstretched arms, and he was just as persevering on his one leg; he never once turned his eyes away from her.

Twelve o’clock struck—crash! up sprang the lid of the snuffbox. There was no snuff in it, but a little black goblin. You see it was not a real snuffbox but a Jack-in-the-box.

“Tin soldier,” said the Goblin, “keep thine eyes to thyself. Don’t stare at what does not concern thee!”

But the Tin Soldier pretended not to hear.

“Very well, you just wait till to-morrow,” said the Goblin.

Next morning, when the children got up, the Tin Soldier was placed on the window-ledge. Whether it was the Goblin or the wind that did it, all at once the window flew open, and the Tin Soldier fell head foremost from the third story to the street below. It was a tremendous fall. Over and over he turned in the air, till he landed at last on his head, with his bayonet sticking fast between two paving-stones, while his one leg stood upright in the air.

The maidservant and the little boy ran down to look for him; but though they nearly trod on him, they could not find him. If the Soldier had only called out “Here I am!” they might easily enough have found him; but he did not think it becoming to cry out for help, because he was in uniform.

Now it began to rain. Faster and faster came the drops, till it became a regular downpour. When it was over, two street boys came by.

“Look here!” said one, “here lies a tin soldier. He shall have a sail in a boat.”

So they made a boat out of an old newspaper, and put the Tin Soldier in the middle of it, and away he sailed down the gutter, while the two boys ran along by his side, clapping their hands.

Goodness! how the waves rocked that paper boat, and how swift the current was! The Tin Soldier became quite giddy, the boat veered round so quickly; still he moved not a muscle, but looked straight before him, and held his bayonet firmly.

All at once the boat passed into a drain, and it became as dark as his own old home in the box.

“Where am I going now?” thought he. “Yes, to be sure, it must be all that Goblin’s doing. Ah, if the little lady were but sailing with me in the boat, I would not care if it were twice as dark!”

Just then a great water-rat, that lived under the drain, came out.

“Have you a passport?” asked the rat. “Where is your passport?”

But the Tin Soldier kept silence, and only held his bayonet tighter than ever. The boat sailed on, but the rat followed. Whew! how he gnashed his teeth, and shouted to the sticks and straws, “Stop him! stop him! He hasn’t paid toll! he hasn’t shown his passport!”

But the current became swifter and swifter. Already the Tin Soldier could see the daylight at the point where the tunnel ended; but at the same time he heard a rushing, roaring noise, at which a bolder man might well have trembled. Think! where the tunnel ended, the drain widened into a great canal. It was as dangerous for the Soldier as sailing down a mighty waterfall would be for us.

He was now so near it that he could not stop. The boat dashed on, and the Tin Soldier held himself so stiff and straight that no one might say of him that he so much as winked an eye. Three or four times the boat whirled round and round; it was full of water to the brim, and must certainly sink.

The Tin Soldier stood up to his neck in water. Deeper and deeper sank the boat, and softer and softer grew the paper; and now the water closed over the Soldier’s head. He thought of the pretty little dancer whom he should never see again, and in his ears rang the words of the song,

Fare thee well, thou valiant stranger;
Thou goest into mortal danger.

The paper boat parted in the middle, and the Tin Soldier fell down, down—but at that moment he was swallowed by a great fish.

Oh, how dark it was inside the fish! darker even than it had been in the drain, and so narrow! But the Tin Soldier retained his courage; he lay at full length, shouldering his bayonet as before.

To and fro swam the fish; then he made the strangest movements and became quite still.

Something like a flash of lightning passed through him, and a voice said, “Tin Soldier!”

The fish had been caught, taken to market, sold, and bought, and taken to the kitchen, where the cook had cut it open with a large knife. She seized the Tin Soldier between her finger and thumb and carried him into the room where the family sat, and where all were eager to see the wonderful man who had traveled about in the stomach of a fish; but the Tin Soldier remained unmoved. He was not at all proud.

They set him upon a table there. But how could so curious a thing happen,—the Soldier was in the very same room in which he had been before? He saw the same children; the same toys stood upon the table, and among them was the castle with the pretty little dancing maiden. She was still balancing herself on one leg. She, too, was steadfast. That touched the Tin Soldier’s heart. He could have wept tin tears, but that would not have been proper. He looked at her, and she looked at him, but neither spoke a word.

And now one of the little boys took the Tin Soldier and threw him into the stove. He gave no reason for doing so, but no doubt the Goblin in the snuffbox had something to do with it.

The Tin Soldier stood now in a blaze of red light. The heat he felt was terrible: but whether it proceeded from the fire, or from the love in his heart, he did not know. He saw that the colors were quite gone from his uniform; but whether that happened on his journey, or had been caused by grief, no one could say. He looked at the little Lady, she looked at him, and he felt himself melting; still he stood firm, with his bayonet on his shoulder. Then suddenly a door flew open, the draft caught the Dancer, and she flew straight into the stove to the Tin Soldier, flashed up in a flame, and was gone! Then the Tin Soldier melted down into a little lump, and in the ashes the maid found him next day, in the shape of a little tin heart; while of the Dancer nothing remained save the tinsel rose, and that was burned as black as a coal.

HOP-O’-MY-THUMB

Once upon a time there was a fagot-maker and his wife who had seven children, all boys. The eldest was but ten years old, the youngest only seven.

They were very poor, and their seven children were a great burden to them, because not one of them was able to earn his own living. What worried them still more was that the youngest was a delicate little fellow, who hardly ever spoke a word. They took for stupidity this silence, which was really a sign of good sense. He was tiny, too; when he was born he was no bigger than a man’s thumb, so they called him Hop-o’-my-Thumb.

The poor child was the drudge of the whole household, and always bore the blame for everything that went wrong. However, he was really the cleverest and brightest of all the brothers, and if he spoke little, he heard and thought the more.

There came now a very bad year, and the famine was so great that these poor people felt obliged to get rid of their children. One evening, when the children had gone to bed and the fagot-maker was sitting with his wife at the fire, he said to her, with his heart ready to burst with grief: “You see plainly that we can no longer give our children food, and I cannot bear to see them die of hunger before my eyes. I am resolved to lose them in the forest to-morrow. This may very easily be done, for while they are amusing themselves in tying up fagots we have only to slip away and leave them without their taking any notice.”

“Ah!” cried out his wife; “do you think you could really take out your children and lose them?”