[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.He was feeling lively, and once we were beyond the stately gardens with their trim paths it took very little urging to get him into his long-striding gallop.The air was cold, out beyond the gardens; I had brought a cloak, and after pulling Greatheart down to a jog, I wrapped it around me.I had expected to reach the tall holly hedge that bounded my prison fairly soon; it had not taken so very long to ride in the night before, and Father had seen the gates from the garden.But now we walked and trotted through fields, and stands of trees, and more fields, and more trees.It was wilder country here, with rocks and twisted scrub, and the ground underfoot was uneven.I wondered if perhaps the hedge did not extend all the way around the Beast’s lands, and perhaps we had re-entered the fringes of the enchanted forest.Not that that would be very useful, I thought; I’d probably just find that carriage-road again, and be led straight back.And I don’t fancy trying to find my way out till I starve to death.There were even patches of snow where we were walking.I turned to look over my shoulder.I could still see the castle towers dark and solemn against the clear blue sky, but they were getting far away.“Time we were heading back,” I said, reined him round, and kneed him into a ponderous canter.“Back home, I suppose,” I said thoughtfully.It wouldn’t do to try to escape on my very first day anyway, I thought.Particularly since it wouldn’t do any good.The sun was low in the sky by the time I had stabled Greatheart, groomed him, and again cleaned the tack by hand.“Yes, and I did notice that all the mended bits have been replaced, and I thank you,” I said aloud, polishing the bits.If I didn’t do it, the invisible hands would; I had also noticed that the bits and buckles had been shined to mirror hue after I’d left them a respectable glossy clean last night, and felt that I was being put on my mettle.My hands were still bandaged; they felt a little stiff, but they no longer troubled me—and the magic bandages didn’t get soiled, even after I’d soaped and oiled the leather.I went a little way into the garden after leaving the stable and sat on a marble bench, still warm from the sun, to watch the afternoon change to evening grey and flame.Or at any rate it could be the sun that warmed it, I thought; I also took notice that the bench was just the right height for someone of my short length of leg.I turned my head to look over another sweep of the gardens, and saw the Beast coming towards me.He was already very near, and I bit back a cry; he walked as silently as the shadows crawling towards my feet, in spite of the heavy boots he wore.Today he was wearing brown velvet, the color of cloves, and there was ivory-coloured lace at his throat, and hanging low over the backs of his hands.“Good evening, Beauty,” he said.“Good evening, Beast,” I replied, and stood up.“Please don’t let me disturb you,” he said humbly.“I will go away again if you prefer.”“Oh no,” I said hastily, trying to be polite.“Will you walk a little? I love to see the sun set over a garden, and yours are so fine.” We walked in silence for a minute or two; I’ve had better ideas, I thought, taking three steps to his one, although I could see that he was adjusting his pace to mine as best he could.Presently I said, a little out of breath, but finding the silence uncomfortable: “Sunset was my favourite time of the day when we lived in the city; I used to walk in our garden there, but the walls were too.high.When the sky was most beautiful, our garden was already dark.”“Sunset no longer pleases you?” the Beast inquired, as one who will do his duty by the conversation.“I’d never seen a sunrise—I was always asleep,” I explained.“I used to stay up very late, reading.Then we moved to the country—I suppose I like sunrise best now; I’m too tired, usually, by sunset, to appreciate it, and I’m usually in a hurry to finish something and go in to supper—or I was,” I said sadly.Longing for home broke over me suddenly and awfully, and closed my throat.We came to a wall covered with climbing roses which I recognized at once: This must be where Father had met the Beast.We went through the break in the wall, and I looked around me at the glorious confusion; the Beast halted a few steps behind me.Then suddenly in a final fierce bloom of light before it disappeared, the sun filled the castle and its gardens with gold, like nectar in a crystal goblet; the roses gleamed like facets.We both turned towards the light, and I found myself gazing at the back of the Beast’s head.I saw that the heavy brown mane that fell to his shoulders was streaked with grey.The light went out like a snuffed candle, and we stood in soft grey twilight; the sky the sun had left behind was pink and lavender.The Beast turned back to me.I could look at him fairly steadily this time.After a moment he said harshly: “I am very ugly, am I not?”“You are certainly, uh, very hairy,” I said.“You are being polite,” he said.“Well, yes,” I conceded.“But then you called me beautiful, last night.”He made a noise somewhere between a roar and a bark, and after an anxious minute, I decided it was probably a laugh.“You do not believe me then?” he inquired.“Well’—no,” I said, hesitantly, wondering if this might anger him.“Any number of mirrors have told me otherwise.”“You will find no mirrors here,” he said, “for I cannot bear them: nor any quiet water in ponds.And since I am the only one who sees you, why are you not then beautiful?”“But—” I said, and Platonic principles rushed into my mouth so fast that they choked me silent.After a moment’s reflection I decided against a treatise on the absolute, and I said, to say something: “There’s always Greatheart.Although I’ve never noticed that he minds how I look.”“Greatheart?”“My horse.The big grey stallion in your stable.”“Ah, yes,” he said, and looked at the ground.“Is anything wrong?” I said anxiously.“It would have been better, perhaps, if you had sent him back with your father,” said the Beast.“Oh dear—is he not safe? Oh, tell me nothing will happen to him! Could I not send him back now? I won’t have him hurt,” I said.The Beast shook his head.“He’s safe enough; but you see—beasts—other beasts don’t like me.You’ve noticed that nothing lives in the garden but trees and grass and flowers, and rocks and water.”“You’ll not hurt him?” I said again.“No; but I could, and horses know it.As I recall, your father’s horse would not come through my gates a second time.”“That’s true,” I whispered.“There’s no need to worry.You know now [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]