Yet in all these days the maid was not glad; but greatly troubled when she thought on the Beast. Very pitiful waxed Beauty’s heart, as she remembered of all her friend’s goodness, and his sorrow of her departing. And so it happened, that on the tenth night after, she dreamed a dream. She beheld the Beast as he lay a-dying under a great tree in the garden. And the garden was a very great way off, and she so far away, she might not help him in his sore need; nor call to him, nor with tender words hold him back from death. With that great horror she awoke in the darkness, and weeping, gave herself the blame. “Alas!” she said, “my broken faith; alas! that ever I should have thus forsook my friend; and if he die, now must I grieve to my life’s end.” Then she hastily laid her magic ring under the pillow, which was all wetted with her weeping. And soon for heaviness she fell on sleep. In the springing of the day Beauty opened her eyes, and, behold, she lay in the green-hung chamber wherein she had so greatly longed to be. The golden autumn day rose fair and still on the silent manor and the garden of the Beast. All the long hours until evensong, must the maiden wait; then he would show himself, and she would comfort him, and tell him of sweet coming days, wherein she never more would leave him. The golden hours sped slowly. Slowly and softly fell the rose-leaves upon the grass. The song-birds that day hid in hushed silence, anear the garden bowers where Beauty sat alone, weaving flowers and fruits and birds unknown to earth, upon the silken loom. And evermore the longed-for evening hour drew on. Anon she heard the clock smite, and she gat her with haste into the house. In the hall the table was covered, and Beauty, arrayed in a broidered gown of red samite, sat in her place and waited. No fresh garlands behanged the walls, but only brown and withered leaves. And she wist not anything of the Beast; and she had no mind to eat and drink, for a cold dread overcame her that some misadventure had befallen him, whiles she listened for the least sound whereby she might know that he approached. But when he came not within a while, she must needs go seek him throughout the manor. But the chambers were empty, and the garden void, and whenas she called none answer came. Then she bethought her of the little fountain in the wood, and she ran thither. There, indeed, under a pine-tree upon the grass, lay that hapless Beast in a deadly swoon. And Beauty sank down upon her knees beside him, and raised his head in her arms; and it dread her sore but that he were in great peril of death. And then she grieved, and gave herself reproach and upbraiding. And, “Oh, dear Beast! what aileth thee?” she cried. “Alas! that ever he saw me to have such sorrow.”