f the window, and instead of the
snow-covered wood, where he had lost himself the previous night, he
saw the most charming arbours covered with all kinds of flowers.
Returning to the hall where he had supped, he found a breakfast table,
ready prepared. "Indeed, my good fairy," said the merchant aloud, "I
am vastly obliged to you for your kind care of me." He then made a
hearty breakfast, took his hat, and was going to the stable to pay his
horse a visit; but as he passed under one of the arbours, which was
loaded with roses, he thought of what Beauty had asked him to bring
back to her, and so he took a bunch of roses to carry home. At the
same moment he heard a loud noise, and saw coming towards him a beast,
so frightful to look at that he was ready to faint with fear.
"Ungrateful man!" said the beast in a terrible voice, "I have saved
your life by admitting you into my palace, and in return you steal my
roses, which I value more than anything I possess. But you shall atone
for your fault: you shall die in a quarter of an hour."

The merchant fell on his knees, and clasping his hands, said, "Sir, I
humbly beg your pardon: I did not think it would offend you to gather
a rose for one of my daughters, who had entreated me to bring her one
home. Do not kill me, my lord!"

"I am not a lord, but a beast," replied the monster; "I hate false
compliments: so do not fancy that you can coax me by any such ways.
You tell me that you have daughters; now I suffer you to escape, if
one of them will come and die in your stead. If not, promise that you
will yourself return in three months, to be dealt with as I may
choose."

The tender-hearted merchant had no thoughts of letting any one of his
daughters die for his sake; but he knew that if he seemed to accept
the beast's terms, he should at least have the pleasure of seeing them
once again. So he gave his promise, and was told he might then set off
as soon as he liked. "But," said the beast, "I do not wish you to go
back empty-handed. Go to the room you slept in, and you will find a
chest there; fill it with whatsoever you like best, and I will have it
taken to your own house for you."

When the beast had said this, he went away. The good merchant, left to
himself, began to consider that as he must die--for he had no thought
of breaking a promise, made even to a beast--he might as well have the
comfort of leaving his children provided for. He returned to the room
he had slept in,