When the sun was risen, the merchant looked out, and saw his horse waiting, saddled, by the door. So with white set face he made him ready; and as though constrained by some dreadful fate, he slowly departed, nor once looked back to the gate, where Beauty stood in the dewy morning light. There was no red in her cheek, and her grey eyes were bright with unshed tears, as from the threshold she watched him go. And so to her the world became desolate; and yesterday seemed far away; and full far away and strange, already seemed to her the familiar faces and sounds of home, as ever, fainter and fainter came back the ring of horse-hoofs along the road, and died at last in the distance. Therewithal Beauty went back into the silent house. She made no sorrow out of measure, for she was great of heart; and the young are strong, and slow to cast hope away. And within her soul also lay a little hidden hope, most like to prophecy, that even in this place--where some grizzly death might steal out and seize her unawares from the dim corners of her prison--she might light soon upon the golden treasure key, whereby a door should open on the secret way leading back to old happier days, or perchance to some undreamed-of, goodlier world, and her heart should win its scarce-known, unpronounced desire. [Illustration] Day followed day, and the girl forgot to call the Beast’s house her prison. No troublous season of fear and doubt had she, but only long summer days of peaceful sweetness, and nights of dreamless sleep. Daily when the sun went down, and Beauty sat in the golden hall at supper, the Beast came and sat there with her; and his dreadful noise had grown less fearsome in her ears, and even was as it were, an unheard terror. She ate and drank, conversing kindly, and heeding little the ugliness of the presence that sat anear. Each night after supper, that ill-favoured Beast did ask the lady, “Would she have him to her husband?” And every time she made answer, “No--that might she never do.” And therewith the Beast would hang down his head, and sigh so dolorously that it were marvel to hear. And then Beauty grieved very sorely for him, and full fain was she to pray him to come back, whereas he shuffled from out of the sight of her. But yet her lips could never shape fair words which her true heart forbade. [Illustration: AFTER SUPPER, EVERY NIGHT, THE BEAST ASKED BEAUTY TO BE HIS WIFE: EVERY NIGHT SHE SAID HIM NAY. LEIGHTON, BROS.]