"Don't you know it's a sin to steal?" roared the Beast. "How dare you
steal my roses? I am going to kill you."
"Oh, mercy, Mr. Beast," cried the unhappy man, flinging himself on his
knees before the monster.
[Illustration]
"I'm going to kill you," roared the Beast still more loudly. "It's
taken years to cultivate this sort of rose, and--and I'm going to
kill you. Unless," he added after a pause, "you send me one of your
daughters here instead."
"All right," said the merchant and got on his feet again.
"She must be here to-morrow by breakfast time, and I breakfast early,"
said the Beast, as he let the merchant out of the gate. "If she is not
here, I shall come for you, and don't you forget it."
It was by no means likely that he would forget it, in fact he could
think of nothing else. He hurried home and told his dreadful news, and
received a dreadful scolding from his two elder daughters, who were
angry at not getting their presents.
"And it is Beauty's fault that you have got into this trouble," they
said. "Beauty and her stupid rose. Beauty had better get you out of
the trouble.
Pages:
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133