At that very moment her godmother appeared on the scene. She gave a tap with her wand to Cinderella's clothes, and transformed them into a dress even more magnificent than her previous ones.
The two sisters recognised her for the beautiful person whom they had seen at the ball, and threw themselves at her feet, begging her pardon for all the ill-treatment she had suffered at their hands.
Cinderella raised them, and declaring as she embraced them that she pardoned them with all her heart, bade them to love her well in future.
She was taken to the palace of the young prince in all her new array. He found her more beautiful than ever, and was married to her a few days afterwards.
Cinderella was as good as she was beautiful. She set aside apartments in the palace for her two sisters, and married them the very same day to two gentlemen of high rank about the Court.
LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD
Once upon a time there was a little village girl, the prettiest that had ever been seen. Her mother doted on her. Her grandmother was even fonder, and made her a little red hood, which became her so well that everywhere she went by the name of Little Red Riding Hood.
One day her mother, who had just made and baked some cakes, said to her:
'Go and see how your grandmother is, for I have been told that she is ill. Take her a cake and this little pot of butter.'
Little Red Riding Hood set off at once for the house of her grandmother, who lived in another village.
On her way through a wood she met old Father Wolf. He would have very much liked to eat her, but dared not do so on account of some wood-cutters who were in the forest. He asked her where she was going. The poor child, not knowing that it was dangerous to stop and listen to a wolf, said:
'I am going to see my grandmother, and am taking her a cake and a pot of butter which my mother has sent to her.'
'Does she live far away?' asked the Wolf.
'Oh yes,' replied Little Red Riding Hood; 'it is yonder by the mill which you can see right below there, and it is the first house in the village.'
'Well now,' said the Wolf, 'I think I shall go and see her too. I will go by this path, and you by that path, and we will see who gets there first.'
The Wolf set off running with all his might by the shorter road, and the little girl continued on her way by the longer road. As she went she amused herself by gathering nuts, running after the butterflies, and making nosegays of the wild flowers which she found.
The Wolf was not long in reaching the grandmother's house.
He knocked. Toc Toc.
'Who is there?'
'It is your little daughter, Red Riding Hood,' said the Wolf, disguising his voice, 'and I bring you a cake and a little pot of butter as a present from my mother.'
The worthy grandmother was in bed, not being very well, and cried out to him:
'Pull out the peg and the latch will fall.'
The Wolf drew out the peg and the door flew open. Then he sprang upon the poor old lady and ate her up in less than no time, for he had been more than three days without food.
After that he shut the door, lay down in the grandmother's bed, and waited for Little Red Riding Hood.
Presently she came and knocked. Toc Toc.
'Who is there?'
Now Little Red Riding Hood on hearing the Wolf's gruff voice was at first frightened, but thinking that her grandmother had a bad cold, she replied:
'It is your little daughter, Red Riding Hood, and I bring you a cake and a little pot of butter from my mother.'
Softening his voice, the Wolf called out to her:
'Pull out the peg and the latch will fall.'
Little Red Riding Hood drew out the peg and the door flew open.
When he saw her enter, the Wolf hid himself in the bed beneath the counterpane.
'Put the cake and the little pot of butter on the bin,' he said, 'and come up on the bed with me.'
Little Red Riding Hood took off her clothes, but when she climbed up on the bed she was astonished to see how her grandmother looked in her nightgown.
'Grandmother dear!' she exclaimed, 'what big arms you have!'
'The better to embrace you, my child!'
'Grandmother dear, what big legs you have!'
'The better to run with, my child!'
'Grandmother dear, what big ears you have!'
'The better to hear with, my child!'
'Grandmother dear, what big eyes you have!'
'The better to see with, my child!'
'Grandmother dear, what big teeth you have!'
'The better to eat you with!'
With these words the wicked Wolf leapt upon Little Red Riding Hood and gobbled her up.
BLUE BEARD
Once upon a time there was a man who owned splendid town and country houses, gold and silver plate, tapestries and coaches gilt all over. But the poor fellow had a blue beard, and this made him so ugly and frightful that there was not a woman or girl who did not run away at sight of him.
Amongst his neighbours was a lady of high degree who had two surpassingly beautiful daughters. He asked for the hand of one of these in marriage, leaving it to their mother to choose which should be bestowed upon him. Both girls, however, raised objections, and his offer was bandied from one to the other, neither being able to bring herself to accept a man with a blue beard. Another reason for their distaste was the fact that he had already married several wives, and no one knew what had become of them.
In order that they might become better acquainted, Blue Beard invited the two girls, with their mother and three or four of their best friends, to meet a party of young men from the neighbourhood at one of his country houses. Here they spent eight whole days, and throughout their stay there was a constant round of picnics, hunting and fishing expeditions, dances, dinners, and luncheons; and they never slept at all, through spending all the night in playing merry pranks upon each other. In short, everything went so gaily that the younger daughter began to think the master of the house had not so very blue a beard after all, and that he was an exceedingly agreeable man. As soon as the party returned to town their marriage took place.
At the end of a month Blue Beard informed his wife that important business obliged him to make a journey into a distant part of the country, which would occupy at least six weeks. He begged her to amuse herself well during his absence, and suggested that she should invite some of her friends and take them, if she liked, to the country. He was particularly anxious that she should enjoy herself thoroughly.
'Here,' he said, 'are the keys of the two large storerooms, and here is the one that locks up the gold and silver plate which is not in everyday use. This key belongs to the strong-boxes where my gold and silver is kept, this to the caskets containing my jewels; while here you have the master-key which gives admittance to all the apartments. As regards this little key, it is the key of the small room at the end of the long passage on the lower floor. You may open everything, you may go everywhere, but I forbid you to enter this little room. And I forbid you so seriously that if you were indeed to open the door, I should be so angry that I might do anything.'
She promised to follow out these instructions exactly, and after embracing her, Blue Beard steps into his coach and is off upon his journey.
Her neighbours and friends did not wait to be invited before coming to call upon the young bride, so great was their eagerness to see the splendours of her house. They had not dared to venture while her husband was there, for his blue beard frightened them. But in less than no time there they were, running in and out of the rooms, the closets, and the wardrobes, each of which was finer than the last. Presently they went upstairs to the storerooms, and there they could not admire enough the profusion and magnificence of the tapestries, beds, sofas, cabinets, tables, and stands. There were mirrors in which they could view themselves from top to toe, some with frames of plate glass, others with frames of silver and gilt lacquer, that were the most superb and beautiful things that had ever been seen. They were loud and persistent in their envy of their friend's good fortune. She, on the other hand, derived little amusement from the sight of all these riches, the reason being that she was impatient to go and inspect the little room on the lower floor.
So overcome with curiosity was she that, without reflecting upon the discourtesy of leaving her guests, she ran down a private staircase, so precipitately that twice or thrice she nearly broke her neck, and so reached the door of the little room. There she paused for a while, thinking of the prohibition which her husband had made, and reflecting that harm might come to her as a result of disobedience. But the temptation was so great that she could not conquer it. Taking the little key, with a trembling hand she opened the door of the room.
At first she saw nothing, for the windows were closed, but after a few moments she perceived dimly that the floor was entirely covered with clotted blood, and that in this were reflected the dead bodies of several women that hung along the walls. These were all the wives of Blue Beard, whose throats he had cut, one after another.
She thought to die of terror, and the key of the room, which she had just withdrawn from the lock, fell from her hand.
When she had somewhat regained her senses, she picked up the key, closed the door, and went up to her chamber to compose herself a little. But this she could not do, for her nerves were too shaken. Noticing that the key of the little room was stained with blood, she wiped it two or three times. But the blood did not go. She washed it well, and even rubbed it with sand and grit. Always the blood remained. For the key was bewitched, and there was no means of cleaning it completely. When the blood was removed from one side, it reappeared on the other.
Blue Beard returned from his journey that very evening. He had received some letters on the way, he said, from which he learned that the business upon which he had set forth had just been concluded to his satisfaction. His wife did everything she could to make it appear that she was delighted by his speedy return.
On the morrow he demanded the keys. She gave them to him, but with so trembling a hand that he guessed at once what had happened.
'How comes it,' he said to her, 'that the key of the little room is not with the others?'
'I must have left it upstairs upon my table,' she said.
'Do not fail to bring it to me presently,' said Blue Beard.
After several delays the key had to be brought. Blue Beard examined it, and addressed his wife.
'Why is there blood on this key?'
'I do not know at all,' replied the poor woman, paler than death.
'You do not know at all?' exclaimed Blue Beard; 'I know well enough. You wanted to enter the little room! Well, madam, enter it you shall – you shall go and take your place among the ladies you have seen there.'
She threw herself at her husband's feet, asking his pardon with tears, and with all the signs of a true repentance for her disobedience. She would have softened a rock, in her beauty and distress, but Blue Beard had a heart harder than any stone.
'You must die, madam,' he said; 'and at once.'
'Since I must die,' she replied, gazing at him with eyes that were wet with tears, 'give me a little time to say my prayers.'
'I give you one quarter of an hour,' replied Blue Beard, 'but not a moment longer.'
When the poor girl was alone, she called her sister to her and said:
'Sister Anne' – for that was her name – 'go up, I implore you, to the top of the tower, and see if my brothers are not approaching. They promised that they would come and visit me to-day. If you see them, make signs to them to hasten.'
Sister Anne went up to the top of the tower, and the poor unhappy girl cried out to her from time to time:
'Anne, Sister Anne, do you see nothing coming?'
And Sister Anne replied:
'I see nought but dust in the sun and the green grass growing.'
Presently Blue Beard, grasping a great cutlass, cried out at the top of his voice:
'Come down quickly, or I shall come upstairs myself.'
'Oh please, one moment more,' called out his wife.
And at the same moment she cried in a whisper:
'Anne, Sister Anne, do you see nothing coming?'
'I see nought but dust in the sun and the green grass growing.'
'Come down at once, I say,' shouted Blue Beard, 'or I will come upstairs myself.'
'I am coming,' replied his wife.
Then she called:
'Anne, Sister Anne, do you see nothing coming?'
'I see,' replied Sister Anne, 'a great cloud of dust which comes this way.'
'Is it my brothers?'
'Alas, sister, no; it is but a flock of sheep.'
'Do you refuse to come down?' roared Blue Beard.
'One little moment more,' exclaimed his wife.
Once more she cried:
'Anne, Sister Anne, do you see nothing coming?'
'I see,' replied her sister, 'two horsemen who come this way, but they are as yet a long way off… Heaven be praised,' she exclaimed a moment later, 'they are my brothers… I am signalling to them all I can to hasten.'
Blue Beard let forth so mighty a shout that the whole house shook. The poor wife went down and cast herself at his feet, all dishevelled and in tears.
'That avails you nothing,' said Blue Beard; 'you must die.'
Seizing her by the hair with one hand, and with the other brandishing the cutlass aloft, he made as if to cut off her head.
The poor woman, turning towards him and fixing a dying gaze upon him, begged for a brief moment in which to collect her thoughts.
'No! no!' he cried; 'commend your soul to Heaven.' And raising his arm —
At this very moment there came so loud a knocking at the gate that Blue Beard stopped short. The gate was opened, and two horsemen dashed in, who drew their swords and rode straight at Blue Beard. The latter recognised them as the brothers of his wife – one of them a dragoon, and the other a musketeer – and fled instantly in an effort to escape. But the two brothers were so close upon him that they caught him ere he could gain the first flight of steps. They plunged their swords through his body and left him dead. The poor woman was nearly as dead as her husband, and had not the strength to rise and embrace her brothers.
It was found that Blue Beard had no heirs, and that consequently his wife became mistress of all his wealth. She devoted a portion to arranging a marriage between her sister Anne and a young gentleman with whom the latter had been for some time in love, while another portion purchased a captain's commission for each of her brothers. The rest formed a dowry for her own marriage with a very worthy man, who banished from her mind all memory of the evil days she had spent with Blue Beard.
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST
Once upon a time there lived a merchant who was exceedingly rich. He had six children – three boys and three girls – and being a sensible man he spared no expense upon their education, but engaged tutors of every kind for them. All his daughters were pretty, but the youngest especially was admired by everybody. When she was small she was known simply as 'the little beauty,' and this name stuck to her, causing a great deal of jealousy on the part of her sisters.
This youngest girl was not only prettier than her sisters, but very much nicer. The two elder girls were very arrogant as a result of their wealth; they pretended to be great ladies, declining to receive the daughters of other merchants, and associating only with people of quality. Every day they went off to balls and theatres, and for walks in the park, with many a gibe at their little sister, who spent much of her time in reading good books.
Now these girls were known to be very rich, and in consequence were sought in marriage by many prominent merchants. The two eldest said they would never marry unless they could find a duke, or at least a count. But Beauty – this, as I have mentioned, was the name by which the youngest was known – very politely thanked all who proposed marriage to her, and said that she was too young at present, and that she wished to keep her father company for several years yet.
Suddenly the merchant lost his fortune, the sole property which remained to him being a small house in the country, a long way from the capital. With tears he broke it to his children that they would have to move to this house, where by working like peasants they might just be able to live.
The two elder girls replied that they did not wish to leave the town, and that they had several admirers who would be only too happy to marry them, notwithstanding their loss of fortune. But the simple maidens were mistaken: their admirers would no longer look at them, now that they were poor. Everybody disliked them on account of their arrogance, and folks declared that they did not deserve pity: in fact, that it was a good thing their pride had had a fall – a turn at minding sheep would teach them how to play the fine lady! 'But we are very sorry for Beauty's misfortune,' everybody added; 'she is such a dear girl, and was always so considerate to poor people: so gentle, and with such charming manners!'
There were even several worthy men who would have married her, despite the fact that she was now penniless; but she told them she could not make up her mind to leave her poor father in his misfortune, and that she intended to go with him to the country, to comfort him and help him to work. Poor Beauty had been very grieved at first over the loss of her fortune, but she said to herself:
'However much I cry, I shall not recover my wealth, so I must try to be happy without it.'
When they were established in the country the merchant and his family started working on the land. Beauty used to rise at four o'clock in the morning, and was busy all day looking after the house, and preparing dinner for the family. At first she found it very hard, for she was not accustomed to work like a servant, but at the end of a couple of months she grew stronger, and her health was improved by the work. When she had leisure she read, or played the harpsichord, or sang at her spinning-wheel.
Her two sisters, on the other hand, were bored to death; they did not get up till ten o'clock in the morning, and they idled about all day. Their only diversion was to bemoan the beautiful clothes they used to wear and the company they used to keep. 'Look at our little sister,' they would say to each other; 'her tastes are so low and her mind so stupid that she is quite content with this miserable state of affairs.'
The good merchant did not share the opinion of his two daughters, for he knew that Beauty was more fitted to shine in company than her sisters. He was greatly impressed by the girl's good qualities, and especially by her patience – for her sisters, not content with leaving her all the work of the house, never missed an opportunity of insulting her.
They had been living for a year in this seclusion when the merchant received a letter informing him that a ship on which he had some merchandise had just come safely home. The news nearly turned the heads of the two elder girls, for they thought that at last they would be able to quit their dull life in the country. When they saw their father ready to set out they begged him to bring them back dresses, furs, caps, and finery of every kind. Beauty asked for nothing, thinking to herself that all the money which the merchandise might yield would not be enough to satisfy her sisters' demands.
'You have not asked me for anything,' said her father.
'As you are so kind as to think of me,' she replied, 'please bring me a rose, for there are none here.'
Beauty had no real craving for a rose, but she was anxious not to seem to disparage the conduct of her sisters. The latter would have declared that she purposely asked for nothing in order to be different from them.
The merchant duly set forth; but when he reached his destination there was a law-suit over his merchandise, and after much trouble he returned poorer than he had been before. With only thirty miles to go before reaching home, he was already looking forward to the pleasure of seeing his children again, when he found he had to pass through a large wood. Here he lost himself. It was snowing horribly; the wind was so strong that twice he was thrown from his horse, and when night came on he made up his mind he must either die of hunger and cold or be eaten by the wolves that he could hear howling all about him.
Suddenly he saw, at the end of a long avenue of trees, a strong light. It seemed to be some distance away, but he walked towards it, and presently discovered that it came from a large palace, which was all lit up.
The merchant thanked heaven for sending him this help, and hastened to the castle. To his surprise, however, he found no one about in the courtyards. His horse, which had followed him, saw a large stable open and went in; and on finding hay and oats in readiness the poor animal, which was dying of hunger, set to with a will. The merchant tied him up in the stable, and approached the house, where he found not a soul. He entered a large room; here there was a good fire, and a table laden with food, but with a place laid for one only. The rain and snow had soaked him to the skin, so he drew near the fire to dry himself. 'I am sure,' he remarked to himself, 'that the master of this house or his servants will forgive the liberty I am taking; doubtless they will be here soon.'
He waited some considerable time; but eleven o'clock struck and still he had seen nobody. Being no longer able to resist his hunger he took a chicken and devoured it in two mouthfuls, trembling. Then he drank several glasses of wine, and becoming bolder ventured out of the room. He went through several magnificently furnished apartments, and finally found a room with a very good bed. It was now past midnight, and as he was very tired he decided to shut the door and go to bed.
It was ten o'clock the next morning when he rose, and he was greatly astonished to find a new suit in place of his own, which had been spoilt. 'This palace,' he said to himself, 'must surely belong to some good fairy, who has taken pity on my plight.'
He looked out of the window. The snow had vanished, and his eyes rested instead upon arbours of flowers – a charming spectacle. He went back to the room where he had supped the night before, and found there a little table with a cup of chocolate on it. 'I thank you, Madam Fairy,' he said aloud, 'for being so kind as to think of my breakfast.'
Having drunk his chocolate the good man went forth to look for his horse. As he passed under a bower of roses he remembered that Beauty had asked for one, and he plucked a spray from a mass of blooms. The very same moment he heard a terrible noise, and saw a beast coming towards him which was so hideous that he came near to fainting.
'Ungrateful wretch!' said the Beast, in a dreadful voice; 'I have saved your life by receiving you into my castle, and in return for my trouble you steal that which I love better than anything in the world – my roses. You shall pay for this with your life! I give you fifteen minutes to make your peace with Heaven.'
The merchant threw himself on his knees and wrung his hands. 'Pardon, my lord!' he cried; 'one of my daughters had asked for a rose, and I did not dream I should be giving offence by picking one.'
'I am not called "my lord,"' answered the monster, 'but "The Beast." I have no liking for compliments, but prefer people to say what they think. Do not hope therefore to soften me by flattery. You have daughters, you say; well, I am willing to pardon you if one of your daughters will come, of her own choice, to die in your place. Do not argue with me – go! And swear that if your daughters refuse to die in your place you will come back again in three months.'
The good man had no intention of sacrificing one of his daughters to this hideous monster, but he thought that at least he might have the pleasure of kissing them once again. He therefore swore to return, and the Beast told him he could go when he wished. 'I do not wish you to go empty-handed,' he added; 'return to the room where you slept; you will find there a large empty box. Fill it with what you will; I will have it sent home for you.'
With these words the Beast withdrew, leaving the merchant to reflect that if he must indeed die, at all events he would have the consolation of providing for his poor children.
He went back to the room where he had slept. He found there a large number of gold pieces, and with these he filled the box the Beast had mentioned. Having closed the latter, he took his horse, which was still in the stable, and set forth from the palace, as melancholy now as he had been joyous when he entered it.
The horse of its own accord took one of the forest roads, and in a few hours the good man reached his own little house. His children crowded round him, but at sight of them, instead of welcoming their caresses, he burst into tears. In his hand was the bunch of roses which he had brought for Beauty, and he gave it to her with these words:
'Take these roses, Beauty; it is dearly that your poor father will have to pay for them.'
Thereupon he told his family of the dire adventure which had befallen him. On hearing the tale the two elder girls were in a great commotion, and began to upbraid Beauty for not weeping as they did. 'See to what her smugness has brought this young chit,' they said; 'surely she might strive to find some way out of this trouble, as we do! But oh, dear me, no; her ladyship is so determined to be different that she can speak of her father's death without a tear!'
'It would be quite useless to weep,' said Beauty. 'Why should I lament my father's death? He is not going to die. Since the monster agrees to accept a daughter instead, I intend to offer myself to appease his fury. It will be a happiness to do so, for in dying I shall have the joy of saving my father, and of proving to him my devotion.'
'No, sister,' said her three brothers; 'you shall not die; we will go in quest of this monster, and will perish under his blows if we cannot kill him.'
'Do not entertain any such hopes, my children,' said the merchant; 'the power of this Beast is so great that I have not the slightest expectation of escaping him. I am touched by the goodness of Beauty's heart, but I will not expose her to death. I am old and have not much longer to live; and I shall merely lose a few years that will be regretted only on account of you, my dear children.'
'I can assure you, father,' said Beauty, 'that you will not go to this palace without me. You cannot prevent me from following you. Although I am young I am not so very deeply in love with life, and I would rather be devoured by this monster than die of the grief which your loss would cause me.' Words were useless. Beauty was quite determined to go to this wonderful palace, and her sisters were not sorry, for they regarded her good qualities with deep jealousy.
The merchant was so taken up with the sorrow of losing his daughter that he forgot all about the box which he had filled with gold. To his astonishment, when he had shut the door of his room and was about to retire for the night, there it was at the side of his bed! He decided not to tell his children that he had become so rich, for his elder daughters would have wanted to go back to town, and he had resolved to die in the country. He did confide his secret to Beauty, however, and the latter told him that during his absence they had entertained some visitors, amongst whom were two admirers of her sisters. She begged her father to let them marry; for she was of such a sweet nature that she loved them, and forgave them with all her heart the evil they had done her.
When Beauty set off with her father the two heartless girls rubbed their eyes with an onion, so as to seem tearful; but her brothers wept in reality, as did also the merchant. Beauty alone did not cry, because she did not want to add to their sorrow.
The horse took the road to the palace, and by evening they espied it, all lit up as before. An empty stable awaited the nag, and when the good merchant and his daughter entered the great hall, they found there a table magnificently laid for two people. The merchant had not the heart to eat, but Beauty, forcing herself to appear calm, sat down and served him. Since the Beast had provided such splendid fare, she thought to herself, he must presumably be anxious to fatten her up before eating her.
When they had finished supper they heard a terrible noise. With tears the merchant bade farewell to his daughter, for he knew it was the Beast. Beauty herself could not help trembling at the awful apparition, but she did her best to compose herself. The Beast asked her if she had come of her own free will, and she timidly answered that such was the case.
'You are indeed kind,' said the Beast, 'and I am much obliged to you. You, my good man, will depart to-morrow morning, and you must not think of coming back again. Good-bye, Beauty!'
'Good-bye, Beast!' she answered.
Thereupon the monster suddenly disappeared.
'Daughter,' said the merchant, embracing Beauty, 'I am nearly dead with fright. Let me be the one to stay here!'
'No, father,' said Beauty, firmly, 'you must go to-morrow morning, and leave me to the mercy of Heaven. Perhaps pity will be taken on me.'
They retired to rest, thinking they would not sleep at all during the night, but they were hardly in bed before their eyes were closed in sleep. In her dreams there appeared to Beauty a lady, who said to her:
'Your virtuous character pleases me, Beauty. In thus undertaking to give your life to save your father you have performed an act of goodness which shall not go unrewarded.'
When she woke up Beauty related this dream to her father. He was somewhat consoled by it, but could not refrain from loudly giving vent to his grief when the time came to tear himself away from his beloved child.
As soon as he had gone Beauty sat down in the great hall and began to cry. But she had plenty of courage, and after imploring divine protection she determined to grieve no more during the short time she had yet to live.