one another?" I asked.
The beast growled and I tightened my hold on the ladder's rail. "What do you suggest? Do you suggest I return to my quarters and remain there forever without seeing or speaking to you?"
"I suggest you do whatever pleases you," I responded, an impatient edge to my voice. "I also ask that you have the courtesy to tell me what it is you have planned for me."
"Planned for you? You are a guest in this castle. You may do as you wish."
"A guest? I would have called myself a prisoner."
"You have not the slightest idea what it means to be a prisoner," he said. The words were spoken so softly and were so layered with bestial growls that I nearly did not understand them.
"You frighten me," I said, bluntly. I could not fathom how it was that I found the courage to be so honest with him. Perhaps it was simply because I had lived in such fear and gloom that I had not the tolerance for it any longer. Perhaps I merely wished to provoke the worst so that I might weather the storm and have done with it.
"You have not yet seen me," he said.
"No, I have not, but my father described you, and that description was enough to frighten me."
"I give my word that, though I may frighten you, I will not harm you."
"Why should I believe that?" I demanded. "You threatened harm enough to my father. Why should your behavior toward me be any different?"
"Your father stole from me," the beast snarled.
I flinched but refused to relent, even though my heart pounded so hard that I thought it might burst from sheer terror. "He did not mean to steal from you. He was simply looking for a gift for me, and he did not know the rose belong to anyone."
"That does not change the fact that he took something that was not his."
"And how was he to know that you did not wish him to take it? You offered him food and lodging freely enough."
"That is why he should not have dared to take more from me." It sounded as though the beast was exercising every bit of self-control he possessed not to begin shouting at me.
I was suddenly weary of this fight. I had to admit that the beast's words were not devoid of truth, though I felt his reaction had been unreasonable. Papa had made a simple error, and a decent soul would have been more understanding.
"Very well," I said. "I have no wish to quarrel with you. You do not know my father as I do, and it seems you will not be persuaded to believe anything different from what you have already decided to believe."
"What I find curious is that you defend the man who sent you here to live with me," the beast said, with a cruel edge to his voice.
"You think he sent me here?" I asked, amazed.
"Why else would you be here?"
"I came here of my own free will."
"Why?" the beast asked, sounding amazed in return.
"Why? Is it not obvious to you? I was afraid of what might happen to Papa should he return here, so I came in his place. I could not help but feel responsible. He brought the rose to me out of the goodness of his own heart, out of a desire to please me. I could not allow him to be punished for the kindness of his actions."
The beast said nothing, and I had the sense that he was finding it hard to believe what I had told him. This was both surprising and rather sad. Had he never loved another enough to wish to sacrifice his own comfort and happiness for the sake of the person he loved? A life without sound was punishment enough, but what of a life without love? What sort of punishment was that?
"How foolish," he finally said.
"Foolish? Do you call that foolish?" I asked. "Then I am sorry for you, sorry that you do not understand the reasons behind my actions."
When he spoke again, he sounded as if he was rather angry that he had spoken his last words aloud. "Are we to always be at odds then?"
"I should think so, if you continue to place yourself at opposition with me."
"Are you suggesting that I should alter my opinions to match yours?"
"Of course not. I am merely suggesting that you should not be
The beast growled and I tightened my hold on the ladder's rail. "What do you suggest? Do you suggest I return to my quarters and remain there forever without seeing or speaking to you?"
"I suggest you do whatever pleases you," I responded, an impatient edge to my voice. "I also ask that you have the courtesy to tell me what it is you have planned for me."
"Planned for you? You are a guest in this castle. You may do as you wish."
"A guest? I would have called myself a prisoner."
"You have not the slightest idea what it means to be a prisoner," he said. The words were spoken so softly and were so layered with bestial growls that I nearly did not understand them.
"You frighten me," I said, bluntly. I could not fathom how it was that I found the courage to be so honest with him. Perhaps it was simply because I had lived in such fear and gloom that I had not the tolerance for it any longer. Perhaps I merely wished to provoke the worst so that I might weather the storm and have done with it.
"You have not yet seen me," he said.
"No, I have not, but my father described you, and that description was enough to frighten me."
"I give my word that, though I may frighten you, I will not harm you."
"Why should I believe that?" I demanded. "You threatened harm enough to my father. Why should your behavior toward me be any different?"
"Your father stole from me," the beast snarled.
I flinched but refused to relent, even though my heart pounded so hard that I thought it might burst from sheer terror. "He did not mean to steal from you. He was simply looking for a gift for me, and he did not know the rose belong to anyone."
"That does not change the fact that he took something that was not his."
"And how was he to know that you did not wish him to take it? You offered him food and lodging freely enough."
"That is why he should not have dared to take more from me." It sounded as though the beast was exercising every bit of self-control he possessed not to begin shouting at me.
I was suddenly weary of this fight. I had to admit that the beast's words were not devoid of truth, though I felt his reaction had been unreasonable. Papa had made a simple error, and a decent soul would have been more understanding.
"Very well," I said. "I have no wish to quarrel with you. You do not know my father as I do, and it seems you will not be persuaded to believe anything different from what you have already decided to believe."
"What I find curious is that you defend the man who sent you here to live with me," the beast said, with a cruel edge to his voice.
"You think he sent me here?" I asked, amazed.
"Why else would you be here?"
"I came here of my own free will."
"Why?" the beast asked, sounding amazed in return.
"Why? Is it not obvious to you? I was afraid of what might happen to Papa should he return here, so I came in his place. I could not help but feel responsible. He brought the rose to me out of the goodness of his own heart, out of a desire to please me. I could not allow him to be punished for the kindness of his actions."
The beast said nothing, and I had the sense that he was finding it hard to believe what I had told him. This was both surprising and rather sad. Had he never loved another enough to wish to sacrifice his own comfort and happiness for the sake of the person he loved? A life without sound was punishment enough, but what of a life without love? What sort of punishment was that?
"How foolish," he finally said.
"Foolish? Do you call that foolish?" I asked. "Then I am sorry for you, sorry that you do not understand the reasons behind my actions."
When he spoke again, he sounded as if he was rather angry that he had spoken his last words aloud. "Are we to always be at odds then?"
"I should think so, if you continue to place yourself at opposition with me."
"Are you suggesting that I should alter my opinions to match yours?"
"Of course not. I am merely suggesting that you should not be
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