So in shivering silence, treading lightly in that marble-pillared place, where the lightest footstep echoed and rang again, they came to a marvellous painted hall. Beauty gazed with wonder on the red rose-leaves that strewed the floor, on the golden hangings and the festal garlands on the walls, and the banquet spread with care awaiting them. And because their bodies were faint from weariness and hunger, they sat them down on the gold-wrought chairs to make what cheer they might, notwithstanding that their very souls were chilled with dread of the yet unseen presence. So they ate and drank; and afterwards, as they still sat there, there seemed to grow upon the air, drawing from distant corners of the house, and along the corridors, a dreadful sound, which made them tremble with affright; and the man knew that the Beast came nigh. So they began to bid each other farewell. Vainly did the maiden strive to hide her trouble when that perilous shape came anear. And first the creature gazed at Beauty, as she shrank back, clinging to her father, to whom he spake with a man’s voice, but in slow and halting speech: “Good friend, ye be welcome, for well and truly ye have holden your promise.” And then to her--“Beauty, come you here of your will?” And she answered quickly, “Yea, in good sooth.” [Illustration: THE ROOM WHERE BEAUTY SLEPT. AT DAWN, A LADY CAME TO COMFORT HER. LEIGHTON, BROS.] The Beast seemed well pleased at that. Nevertheless, in gruesome tones, he required of the merchant to be gone on the morrow, and that he might never behold him any more. Then, with a strange, wistful look at the girl, of mingled ruth and kindness, from under the shaggy beast-like brows, he turned from the lighted chamber, and gat him away to the darkness of his unknown den. So that night, long after moonset, Beauty and her father still sat together, hand laid to hand, speaking of past things, and loth to part--these two, for whom all the joy of life seemed done--while the lights burned low and the summer night waned fast. Overmuch sorrow had made their eyes heavy, and they longed for some short rest before the coming of the day that was to bring such bitter parting. Two fair sleeping rooms they found prepared. And at dawn, in the grey light, a pale woman, clad in long white raiment, stood beside Beauty’s bed. She called very softly to the girl, bidding her have no fear of aught in that place, but to keep her heart strong and true. Beauty was fain to tell this dream to her father, that their parting might not be all too dark and hopeless. [Illustration]