The breeze arrived when I was finished, to whisk everything away by bundling it up in the linen tablecloth and making it vanish in midair; and after some grumbling on both sides it and I settled on a morning dress of grey, with silver buttons, and elegant black boots with braided laces. I had been avoiding looking at the door; but when at last I uneasily approached it, it swung open without hesitation. I ran out, as if it might change its mind; the breeze swirled once around me and left.
The castle looked very different with bright sunshine flooding through the tall windows; the sombre magnificence I had seen last night by candle—and lamp-light was lit up to a rich but cheerful splendour—It was even hard to believe in the Beast; he seemed a creature from a bad dream, and no pan of this handsome palace. In this mood, I refused to consider why it was that I was here at all, and I set myself to admiring my surroundings without thinking about it. I found my way to some stairs to descend, and shortly to the great front hall with the dining room opening off it, and out through the huge front doors.
Greatheart was glad to see me. He put his head over the stall door and neighed like thunder when he heard my step. “I don’t blame you—I’ve been lonesome too,” I said. “Let’s explore a bit together.” I snapped a lead rope, which I found by turning round and looking for it, onto his halter and fed him out into the sun. He shook his mane and stamped his feet and expressed general approval; and we wandered through the gorgeous gardens, looking at the flowers and the statuary. There were roses everywhere among hundreds of other kinds of flowers, but I did not see any rose arbour like the one Father had described. Greatheart blew at the flowers, but like a well-bred horse, he offered to eat nothing but the grass; this he tore up in mouthfuls. We found a patch of clover by and by, and paused there awhile for him to graze in earnest, “You will get as round as a broodmare, at this rate,” I told him. “I will take you for a good hard ride—after my lunch.” I took him back to his stable, and went inside the castle; but when the dining-hall door began to open, I called, “I’d really rather eat in my room, if you don’t mind,” it paused, and then closed again, reluctantly; and I found an excellent lunch laid on the little table in “Beauty’s Room.”
“The only problem with this place is the silence,” I said conversationally to my teacup. “Even the fire burns quietly; and while I can’t fault the service”—and I wondered if there were anything to hear—“I could almost like a little more rattling of cutlery and so forth. It makes a house, or even a castle, seem lived-in.” I took my teacup over to the window. “I’ve never liked house pets much—monkeys are a nuisance, dogs shed and make me sneeze, and cats claw things—but birds, now. It would be very nice to have Orpheus here to sing to me.” I found a latch to the window, and a section of it swung out, noiselessly of course. “Not even any birds here,” I continued, leaning out. “I can see how anything that goes on feet would want to stay out of his way; but surely he doesn’t control the sky,” There was a broad window ledge with a shallow flat-bottomed trench cut into it. “Just the thing for birds,” I said, and found a tin at my elbow, with jeweled peacocks painted on it, full of mixed seeds such as a bird might like. I spread several generous handfuls of this along the ledge. “All I ask is a few sparrows,” I said. “The only peacocks I ever knew bit people.”
I looked out across the gardens. It was odd that no birds had found those trees and flowers. “Perhaps they’re only waiting to be asked,” I said. “Well, consider yourself invited,” I said loudly. “On my behalf, anyway.” I closed the window again, changed into a divided skirt more or less suitable for riding—“Haven’t you ever heard of plain clothing?” I said in exasperation, searching through the wardrobes for a blouse without ribbons or jewels or lace, while the breeze plucked protestingly at my elbows—and went out again to take Greatheart for his ride.
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.”