Beauty and the Beast
The good merchant, terrified no less by the sight of this Beast than by his threats, let drop the rose and flung himself on his knees.
'My Lord,' he cried, 'have pity on me! I am not ungrateful; but after all your kindness I could not guess that so small a thing would offend you.'
This speech did not at all abate the Beast's wrath. 'Hold your tongue, sir,' he commanded, 'if you can offer me nothing but flatteries and false titles. I am not "my lord." I am the Beast; and your words will not save you from the death you deserve.'
The merchant, although in fear of his life, plucked up courage to tell the monster that the rose which he had been bold to pluck was for one of his daughters, by name Beauty. Then, in hope either to delay the Beast's vengeance or to touch his compassion, he launched into the tale of all his misfortunes, and of his reasons for the journey, not forgetting to mention Beauty again and her request.
The Beast considered for a moment before answering him in a somewhat milder tone: 'I will forgive you; but only on condition that you give
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