All the kindness that she
showed them was of no use; for they were vexed more than ever when she
told them how happy she lived at the palace of the beast. The
spiteful creatures went by themselves into the garden, where they
cried to think of her good fortune.
"Why should the little wretch be better off than we?" said they. "We
are much handsomer than she is."
"Sister!" said the eldest, "a thought has just come into my head: let
us try to keep her here longer than the week for which the beast gave
her leave; and then he will be so angry, that perhaps when she goes
back to him he will eat her up in a moment."
"That is well thought of," answered the other, "but to do this, we
must pretend to be very kind."
They then went to join her in the cottage, where they showed her so
much false love, that Beauty could not help crying for joy.
When the week was ended, the two sisters began to pretend such grief
at the thought of her leaving them, that she agreed to stay a week
more: but all that time Beauty could not help fretting for the sorrow
that she knew her absence would give her poor beast; for she tenderly
loved him, and much wished for his company again. Among all the grand
and clever people she saw, she found nobody who was half so sensible,
so affectionate, so thoughtful, or so kind. The tenth night of her
being at the cottage, she dreamed she was in the garden of the palace,
that the beast lay dying on a grass-plot, and with his last breath put
her in mind of her promise, and laid his death to her forsaking him.
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