stle, and saved your life, and now you steal
my roses, which I care for more than anything else in the world. Death
alone can make amends for what you have done; I give you a quarter of an
hour, no more, in which to ask forgiveness of God."

The merchant threw himself on his knees, and with clasped hands, said to
the Beast, "I pray you, my lord, to forgive me. I did not think to
offend you by picking a rose for one of my daughters, who asked me to
take it her." "I am not called my lord," responded the monster, "but
simply the Beast, I do not care for compliments; I like people to say
what they think; so do not think to mollify me with your flattery. But
you tell me you have some daughters; I will pardon you on condition that
one of your daughters will come of her own free will to die in your
place. Do not stop to argue with me; go! and if your daughter refuses to
die for you, swear that you will return yourself in three months' time."

The merchant had no intention of sacrificing one of his daughters to
this hideous monster, but he thought, "At least I shall have the
pleasure of embracing them once more." He swore therefore to return, and
the Beast told him that he might go when he liked; "but," added he, "I
do not wish you to go from me with empty hands. Go back to the room in
which you slept, there you will find a large empty trunk; you may fill
it with whatever you please, and I will have it conveyed to your house."
With these words the Beast withdrew, and the merchant said to himself,
"If I must die, I shall at least have the consolation of leaving my
children enough for their daily bread."

He returned to the room where he had passed the night, and finding there
a great quantity of gold pieces, he filled the trunk, of which the Beast
had spoken, with these, closed it, and remounting his horse, which he
found still in the stable, he rode out from the castle, his sadness now
as great as had been his joy on entering it. His horse carried him of
its own accord along one of the roads through the forest, and in a few
hours the merchant was again in his own little house.

His children gathered round him; but instead of finding pleasure in
their caresses, he began to weep as he looked upon them. He held in his
hand the branch of roses which he had brought for Beauty. "Take them,"
he said, as he gave them to her, "your unhappy father has paid dearly
for them." And then he told his family of the melancholy adventure that