Once there was a rich merchant who had three daughters, and the youngest was so lovely and so good that everyone called her Beauty. Her two elder sisters were proud and vain, and cared for nothing but fine clothes and grand company, and they mocked Beauty for her plainness of heart, for she was happiest among her books and in the keeping of her father’s house.
Now it happened that the merchant lost his fortune all at once, when his ships were wrecked and his goods lost at sea, and the family was forced to leave the city and go to live in a small cottage in the country, and work for their bread. The two elder sisters grumbled and pined for their old life, but Beauty rose early and worked cheerfully, and made the best of everything, and in time even came to love the quiet of the country.
One day news came that a single ship of the merchant’s had come safe to port after all, and he set out for the city, hoping to recover a little of what he had lost. Before he went he asked his daughters what they would have him bring them. The elder two asked for gowns and jewels and rich things, but Beauty asked only for a single rose, for none grew where they lived, and she longed to see one again.
But the merchant’s journey came to nothing; the cargo was seized to pay his debts, and he set off home as poor as he had come. On the way a great storm caught him in a forest, and he lost his path in the snow and the dark, and gave himself up for lost, until through the trees he saw a light. He came to a splendid palace, its gates standing open, and within, a fire burning and a table laid, but not a soul to be seen. Cold and starving, he ate and warmed himself and, finding a bed made ready, slept, and still he saw no one, though all his wants were met as though by invisible hands.
In the morning, as he made to leave, he passed through a garden where roses bloomed though it was deep winter, and remembering Beauty’s wish, he plucked a single one. At once there rose a terrible roar, and before him stood a Beast, monstrous and dreadful to look upon. “Is this how you repay me?” the Beast thundered. “I gave you shelter and food, and you steal my roses, which I love above all things. For this you shall die.”
The merchant fell to his knees and begged for mercy, and explained that the rose was for his daughter. The Beast grew quieter, but not kind. “I will let you go,” he said, “on one condition. You must send me one of your daughters in your place, one who will come willingly, knowing the cost. If none will come, you must return yourself.” And he gave the merchant a chest of gold to take with him, for the Beast, for all his fierceness, was not without a strange courtesy.
The merchant went home heavy with grief, and told his tale, meaning never to send a daughter but to return himself and die. But Beauty would not hear of it. “The wish was mine,” she said, “and the rose was mine, and so the debt is mine. I will go.” And though her father wept and forbade it, in the end her gentle will prevailed, and she went with him to the palace, and there she bade him farewell, and sent him home, and stayed alone with the Beast.
She expected to die that very night. But instead she found a chamber prepared for her, marked “Beauty’s Room,” full of everything she loved, books and music and a mirror in which, it seemed, she could see whatever she wished. And each evening the Beast came to her at supper, and though his form was frightful, his words were gentle and sad, and each night before he left he asked her, “Beauty, will you marry me?” And each night, as kindly as she could, she answered, “No, Beast.” And he would sigh, and go away, and leave her in peace.
So the days passed, and Beauty, to her own surprise, grew less afraid. She found the Beast to be gentle and wise and kind, and she came to look forward to his company at evening, and to be sorry for the sadness in him. Only she could not love him as a husband, and could not say yes, and every night his going grieved her a little more.
One evening, looking in her mirror, she saw her father lying ill and pining for her, and she was seized with longing to see him. She begged the Beast to let her go, and though it plainly wounded him, he could refuse her nothing. “Go, then,” he said, “but if you do not return within the week, I shall die of grief, for I cannot live without you. Take this ring; turn it upon your finger when you would come back, and you shall be here at once.” And he let her go, though it broke his heart.
Beauty went home, and her father grew well again for joy at seeing her, and the days slipped by so sweetly among those she loved that she let the week pass without marking it, for her jealous sisters, seeing how happy she was, begged and wept and delayed her on purpose, hoping the Beast would be angry and devour her.
But on the tenth night Beauty dreamed she saw the Beast lying in the garden, half dead among his roses, reproaching her gently for her broken promise. She woke in terror, and turned the ring upon her finger, and in a moment she was back in the palace. She ran through the empty halls calling for him, and found him at last in the garden, lying just as in her dream, cold and still and near to death.
“Oh, Beast,” she cried, gathering him up, “do not die! I could not bear it. I know now what I did not know before. Live, and I will marry you, for I love you with all my heart.” And her tears fell upon him.
And at her words a wonder came to pass. The Beast was gone, and in her arms lay a handsome prince, who looked up at her with the Beast’s own gentle eyes. A wicked fairy, he told her, had laid a spell upon him in his youth, so that he must live as a monster until a maiden should love him for his kindness alone, in spite of his ugliness, and consent to marry him. “You have broken the spell,” he said, “and saved my life, and I am yours.”
So Beauty married her prince, and her father and even her sisters were brought to the palace, and there was such rejoicing as had never been seen; and Beauty and her prince lived long and happily together, for their love had been founded, not upon fair looks, but upon a kind and faithful heart.
It is a poor eye that sees only the face, and a rich one that learns to love what is good; for beauty fades, but kindness keeps.