Then the man told him all; of his bootless journey to the distant seaport,--of how his eldest daughters had desired jewels and gold raiment, and of Beauty’s wish for one white rose. Silently, the Beast heard; then, drawing a deep breath, like a human sigh, he spake again very softly. “Merchant,” he said, “death is the price they pay who steal that without which life to me were one long death. But if life still to thee is sweet, thou must bring hither that young maid of whom thou spakest. Half a year will I await her coming; but if she come not then, in thine own house will I seek her, and little more joy will life hold then for thee or her. So get thee gone, and take this rose for Beauty.” With that the Beast brake off a rose, and thrust it into the merchant’s hand, who, for a moment stood still, and heard in the glimmering twilight that huge creature depart, crashing and sliding backward amid the trees. Then the man, dazed and bewildered, hasted back to the little door in the wall. Hard by stood the chestnut horse, tied to a tree, watchful and impatient. On the earth lay a white thin covering of snow, and on the snow the morning sun shone fair. The horse and his rider made good speed along the echoing white road, till at the border of the wood the merchant slacked rein, and there, a little way down the hill before him, he saw the well-known homestead. The grey ridge and the ancient tower, the curving shore, and blue sea beyond. And now, slowly pacing down the steep way, he fell on meditation. Almost he thought within himself, last night’s strange chance to be a fearsome dream. But the rose in his hand shot back a terror that no vision, but indeed a dismal fate, had overtaken him; and that now, joyless and unholpen must he abide. Wild thoughts beset him: thoughts of the deep broad water and safe haven on that other side; deadly thoughts to make an end of life and misery for him and for the child he loved. Yet, as day drew on, Care and Fear fled. Hope once more danced lightly in the man’s soul, for neither age nor misfortune had yet quite dulled his cheer; and now, upon the level road, he joyously spurred on to meet his children waiting at the door. You may well believe how with bitter and hard words Beauty’s sisters bemoaned themselves to see their father’s poor return. No long train of sumpter mules and servants! Only Beauty was glad. She laughed gently, and made him joy and sweet welcome as he kissed her, putting the dear-bought rose into her hand. But soon must the bitter tale be told. So with set white face, and amid choking sobs, the father must confess how with that hateful vow he had sold his child’s life. But she embraced him in her arms, and with loving smiles bade him take heart, and put fear from him; for that although half a year was but a little space to live, there yet was time for a few happy days, and for hope, within a while to light upon some escape from misery. As for the three