After Lefou left, Snow White looked around the room, wondering if there was anything else she could do to make Gaston's surprise even better. The floor was mopped and swept, the room was tidy with everything in its place, the fire was crackling in the fireplace, the delicious scents of the dinner wafted from the kitchen...
"The table!" she exclaimed out loud. It was a large, serviceable wooden table, but very plain and functional-looking. Snow White went looking through the pantry and closets for something to dress it up with.
In the back of the linen closet, under stacks of sheets and blankets, she found what she was hoping for: an elegant pure-white tablecloth, neatly folded and wrapped in tissue paper. I'm sure it hasn't been used since Gaston's mother died, Snow White thought. She shook it out and carefully laid it over the table, straightening it out until it hung just so. She smiled at the sight. Beautiful!
Then she went through the cupboards and closets in the ample pantry. There was a closet with all the earthenware plates and mugs Gaston had been using...but on the bottom shelf, she discovered a box. When she took it out and opened it up, she found a fancy set of fine china for special occasions, along with a set of pure silver flatware. Snow White squealed in delight. This is just what I need!
The items were dusty from disuse, and Snow White longed to give all of it a good scrubbing. But she didn't have time; Gaston would surely be home soon. So, regretfully, she took out only enough items for two place settings, along with a silver platter to serve the meat. "I'll clean the rest of you as soon as I can. I promise!" she whispered to the box as she put it back on the shelf.
Taking the items to the kitchen, she scrubbed the plates and silverware till they gleamed, then set the table. She lit two candles and put them on the table as well, along with a crystal vase, in which she put the flowers Gaston had picked for her two days earlier at the hunting lodge, They were starting to droop a bit, but were still presentable, she thought. Tomorrow I'll pick some fresh flowers, she promised herself.
She surveyed the table, and let out a happy sigh. Everything was perfect! I can't wait to see Gaston's face when he sees all this! He'll be SO surprised! She gave a happy twirl of excitement, then went back into the kitchen for one last check of the dinner.
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Gaston was not having a good day.
He'd headed out to the woods in good spirits, eager to bag something impressive (but not cute!), as he had done with the boar. Having been traveling for weeks, it felt good to be back home in his own familiar forest near the village. He figured he'd bag something within a couple of hours, bring it home and let Snow White cook it for dinner, then go to the tavern and brag about it.
But it was not to be.
He'd been out for about an hour when he spied a young buck nibbling greenery. Silently, he raised his rifle...but then hesitated. He could tell that the deer was young, about 18 months old, and was sporting its first set of new antlers – it wasn't a mature buck of five to eight years. Technically it WAS an adult, not a fawn...but still, was it young enough to upset Snow White? Where did a deer like this fall in their compromise?
As he uncertainly tried to figure it out, the deer took off, gracefully loping away. Cursing his indecision, Gaston moved on. For the next two hours, he moved silently, searching for signs of game, waiting patiently in all his known haunts, but with no luck.
Then, spying deer tracks that seemed fresh, he took cover downwind of the tracks, froze in place, and waited, eyes and ears alert for any sign.
Soon he was rewarded by the sight of an enormous, older buck, well over 250 pounds, with the most impressive set of antlers he had ever seen, with 16 points branching to the sky. Gaston could hardly contain his excitement. What a trophy it would make! It was quite far away, too far for most hunters to even have a prayer of bringing it down – but Gaston wasn't most hunters. The difficulty of aiming accurately at such a distance would only make the story better and bring even more admiration for his legendary sharpshooting skills!
He lifted his rifle, aiming carefully, and slowly took a step forward for a better shot. But as he did so, he accidentally stepped on a loose twig lying on the ground, which cracked under his boot. At the sharp sound, the buck immediately took off. Gaston quickly pulled the trigger, but his shot went wild, and a moment later the buck was out of sight.
"Damn!" Gaston exploded in frustration. He almost never missed – he was supposed to be perfect – and he hated the rare occasions when it happened. And buck as glorious as that one that was hard to find. He hadn't seen one that impressive in years!
Determined to make up for his mistake, he moved on. He was so fixated on looking for tracks and signs that he didn't notice the clouds gathering and the sky darkening.
Suddenly the sky opened up, and a deluge of rain poured down, drenching him to the skin. Gaston cursed. Clearly there would be no more hunting today. Now all he wanted was to get home. But as he struggled to make his way through the forest, he saw it was impossible. The rain was coming down so heavily that he couldn't even see where he was going, and the rainwater kept running into his eyes no matter how often he tried to rub it away.
I'll just find shelter until it blows over, he thought. But he couldn't see anything helpful like a cave around. There were only trees. And he had no supplies with him to make a lean-to, as he had done when he met Snow White. His decision to go hunting today had been spur-of-the-moment at her suggestion, and he had simply headed into the woods with his rifle, not stopping back at home to pack anything.
He finally just stood under an oak tree, hoping the branches would keep some of the rain off, but it was coming down so heavily it didn't help much. But at least there was no lightning. A forest definitely would NOT be a safe place to be in a lightning storm. He wasn't in danger, just very, very uncomfortable. The freezing rain pelted him like blows. The icy water poured onto his head as though from a bucket. It ran into his eyes and seeped into his boots, freezing his feet.
To make matters worse, the wind had picked up, howling around him Wet as he was, he couldn't help shivering from the cold, his teeth chattering – which irritated him further, since he saw shivering as a sign of weakness. He was Gaston! The toughest man alive! What was he doing shivering like a child?
After what seemed like an eternity, the rain stopped, and he began the long walk home. His long hair had come loose, flopping wetly in his eyes and dripping cold rivulets of water down the back of his neck and down his back. He was soaked to the skin, his shirt and pants drenched and clinging to him. The puddles inside his boots squelched wetly with each step he took, his boots sinking into the mud.
It seemed to take forever to get back to the village, and by the time he finally got to its outskirts, he was in a foul mood. He'd missed his shot at the best prize buck he'd seen in years, and he was soaking wet, freezing cold, exhausted, and ravenously hungry.
As he passed Lefou's house, he saw his lackey on the front step, about to open the door and go inside. "Lefou!" he called.
Lefou turned and saw him. "Oh, hi, Gaston!" he said cheerfully. "How was hunting?"
Gaston made an annoyed growl in response, refusing to answer the question. "Why aren't you with Snow White like I told you?" he snapped.
"Oh, I was with her all day! We figured it was time for me to go because you'd be home soon," Lefou said. "But it all went fine, Gaston!"
Gaston noticed that Lefou was holding something in a cloth...something that gave off a delicious scent that made Gaston's empty stomach rumble suddenly. "What's that?" he demanded.
"This? It's a gooseberry pie!" Lefou said happily. "Snow White made it for me!"
Gaston was stunned. "She made YOU a gooseberry pie?" he asked, outraged. That's MY pie! he thought, furious. .She promised to make ME a gooseberry pie! How dare she make it and then give it to Lefou!
"Yeah, it was like a 'thank you' for helping her out today," Lefou said. "But you're gonna be really happy when you get home, Gaston! Snow White-" Abruptly, he snapped his mouth shut as though he'd said too much.
"Snow White what?" Gaston demanded.
"Um, Snow White...is a really great girl and you like her a lot, right?" Lefou said quickly. "So you'll be really happy to go home and spend time with her, right? So you should go there right now, instead of wasting time talking to me. I'll see you tomorrow!" Before Gaston could answer, Lefou hurried into his house and closed the door.
Irritated, Gaston headed on toward his house through the darkness, in an even worse mood than before. Lost in thought, he didn't notice a large muddle ahead of him in the dark. As he stepped into it, he slipped, losing his footing, and landed right in the mud puddle, the mud splashing all over his clothes.
Gaston cursed again. This day was never going to end! Picking himself up, he continued on, and finally reached his house.
With a sigh of relief, he opened the door and went in. He was in such a bad mood, brooding stormily over the day's mishaps, that he didn't even notice his surroundings. He sank heavily down into his chair and propped his aching feet up on the table. "Snow White!" he called, annoyed that she hadn't come to the door to greet him. "Where are you?"
"Coming!" she called cheerily. She came out of the kitchen with a welcoming smile of anticipation...but her smile faded in dismay when she saw his muddy boots on the table. "Gaston!" she scolded. "Get your feet off the table!"
After the rotten day he'd had, that was absolutely the last straw. Gaston's temper snapped. How DARE this slip of a girl try to order him around? Who did she think she was? Gaston didn't take orders from anyone, especially a mere woman! And in his own home, no less!
"DON'T YOU DARE TELL ME WHAT TO DO!" he thundered, glaring at her in fury. "I'M the master of this house, and I'll do whatever I damn well please!"
Snow White gasped and took a step backward, going even paler than she was already. Her eyes widened, then filled with tears. Sobbing, she ran out of the room.
Seeing how hurt and upset she was, Gaston's anger drained away. He hadn't really been that angry at HER anyway – he was just angry at the whole day. "I didn't mean to make her cry!" he said defensively. But there was no one to hear him but the empty room.
Sighing, he headed for her room, not knowing what to say. His father had always taught him that apologizing was a sign of weakness, to be avoided at all costs. Besides, apologizing meant admitting you were wrong, and Gaston was never wrong.
Still...he didn't feel good knowing that he had made sweet little Snow White cry. He shouldn't have yelled at her, he thought– it was like yelling at a tiny little kitten.
He entered her room to see her lying facedown on the bed, crying into her pillow as though her heart was broken. He felt a pang at the sight.
"Look, Snow...I shouldn't have yelled at you," he said. "I didn't mean it. Don't cry."
She sat up and looked at him with tears streaming down her face. "I j-just wanted to make you h-happy!" she tried to explain, her voice coming out in hiccupping sobs. "I couldn't wait for you to get h-home and see. It w-was supposed to be a s-surprise!"
"Surprise?" Gaston said in confusion. "What surprise?"
Snow White sobbed harder at that. "I c-cleaned the whole house, and w-washed all your clothes, and made you a special dinner, and set the table and made g-gooseberry pie-"
"You did?" Gaston said, flabbergasted. He hadn't even noticed. "Wait here a minute."
He went into the kitchen and immediately saw the bowls and platters of food waiting on the counter, the delicious scents wafting in his direction: the steaming split pea soup, the fresh homemade bread, the steak au poivre with potatoes au gratin...and sure enough, a gooseberry pie, much bigger than the one Lefou had been carrying.
Then he went into the main room. Now that he was actually paying attention, he could see the transformation in the place. All the dirty clothes that had been strewn about were gone – he realized that not only had she washed them, but no doubt had folded them neatly and put them in his drawers. The corners of the room were free of dust and cobwebs for the first time in years. The floor had been swept and mopped till it shone...except for the muddy bootprints he'd tracked across it from the front door to the table. And the table itself was set with fine china, shining silverware, candlelight, a vase of flowers, and a beautiful white tablecloth...white, that is, aside from the ugly muddy stains where he'd propped his feet, he saw with a twinge.
She must have worked hard all day to do all this, he realized. She did it to surprise me and make me happy...and I yelled at her and made her cry.
An uncomfortable feeling stirred within Gaston, a feeling he couldn't name. A normal person would have recognized it as "guilt" or "remorse." But Gaston was unaccustomed to such a feeling. All he knew was that he felt very, very bad that he had made Snow White cry, and he fervently wished that he hadn't done it. He had to do something to make her feel better...but what?
There was only one thing he could think of.
He went back to her room and took a deep breath. "Snow...I'm sorry I yelled at you." It took an effort to get the words out, but he realized with some surprise that he actually meant them. He was sorry he'd made her cry, after she'd worked so hard to surprise him.
Then he saw that she was folding her old dress and putting it in a bag. "What are you doing?"
She looked at him, her face still stained with tears. "I think I should go," she said quietly.
"What?" Gaston said, stunned. "Go where?"
She shrugged. "I'll find something. Don't worry about me. The seamstress seemed to like me – I could offer to help her with her sewing, in exchange for a place to stay. Or I could ask Lefou-"
"LEFOU?" Gaston sputtered. He couldn't believe he was hearing this!
"Yes, he was very kind. He helped me so much today. I'm sure he would let me stay in his house if I asked him."
Over my dead body! Gaston thought. He crossed to the door and stood in front of it, folding his arms. "You're not leaving!" he said firmly. "I won't allow it!"
She looked up at him, confused and slightly alarmed. "What do you mean?"
Seeing her expression, Gaston saw he'd made yet another mistake. He was so used to expressing his desires as orders and commands, he didn't even think about it before speaking.
But I can't talk to Snow White that way, he realized now. All I'm doing is making her MORE upset! That was the last thing he wanted to do, when he was trying to smooth things over.
He hesitated, uncharacteristically at a loss for words. He wasn't used to being gentle. "That...that didn't come out right," he said finally. "What I mean is...I don't want you to leave."
Snow White sighed. "That's kind of you to say," she said dejectedly. "But you were right."
"Right about what?" Gaston said in confusion.
She gestured at the room. "This is your house. I have no right to tell you what to do. I felt so comfortable here, I suppose I was starting to think of it as my home too. But it's not. I'm only a guest. And I thought it would make you happy if I cleaned the house...but it didn't," she said sadly. "I see now that you've been living alone, and you like it that way. You're used to things the way they were, and doing whatever you please. I'm NOT making you happy – all I'm doing is disrupting your life and getting in your way! So I think it would be best if I leave. You've been very kind, and I appreciate everything you've done for me." She started for the door.
"No! Wait!" Gaston said. She paused. Gaston went on, "Look, you have it all wrong. I love the way you cleaned the house! It hasn't looked this good in years! And I love that you made me dinner – it smells delicious. Believe me, I'm very happy about all the things you did! I want you to keep doing things like that! And I DO want you to think of this as your home. This IS your home. I want you to stay."
Seeing that she wasn't convinced, he hesitated a moment. Then he added quietly, "Please stay." He felt uncomfortably vulnerable, asking her instead of telling her – it meant she might say no. But he took a deep breath and went on. "I'll be unhappy if you leave," he admitted honestly.
She looked uncertain. "But if that's true...then why did you shout at me?"
"I was just in a bad mood, that's all," he said. "I'm sorry I took it out on you. I had a terrible day. I missed my shot hunting, and I got caught in the rain, and I was cold and wet, and fell in a mud puddle-"
Her eyes widened. "Oh! You poor thing!" She looked at his clothes, noticing for the first time how wet and muddy he was. "My goodness, we need to get you out of those before you catch your death of cold!" She fetched a large drying cloth and handed it to him. "Here, go get dried off and change into dry clothes. It's a good thing I washed them all today!"
Surprised at how quickly she seemed to have forgotten the argument, he went to dry off and get changed. It felt good to get out of his wet clothes and into dry ones. When he came back out, he saw that she had removed the tablecloth and re-set the table without it. "Here, sit down," she said, and set a bowl of steaming soup in front of him. "This will warm you up."
Gaston sat down and tried the soup. It was delicious, and as hungry as he was, he emptied the bowl quickly. "This is wonderful," he told her.
She smiled, pleased at the compliment. "That's just the beginning! Wait till you try the rest of the food!"
With things going smoothly again, he was tempted to leave well enough alone...but he needed to make sure. "So you'll stay?"
She nodded. "Yes, if you truly want me to." Then she looked serious. "But..."
"But?" he asked in concern.
She looked up at him, troubled. "Please don't shout at me like that again," she said softly. "It frightened me."
Gaston felt that pang of remorse again. "I won't," he promised fervently. "And I'm sorry that I ruined your surprise." He looked at the muddy bootprints on the otherwise clean floor. Impulsively, he grabbed a napkin from the table and tried to rub out one of the bootprints, but only succeeded in smearing the mud around more.
Snow White giggled. "Silly man! Sit down and finish eating. I'll clean it again tomorrow, it's no trouble." Gladly, Gaston sat down and started on the steak. It was even more delicious than the soup, if that was even possible.
Snow White went on sincerely, "And I'm very sorry too. I should have seen at once how wet and muddy you were! Instead, I made you stay in those wet clothes talking to me, when you should have been getting dry. You poor thing! Please forgive me. You had such a terrible day, but all I did was make it worse!"
"No, you didn't," Gaston assured her. "This meal makes up for everything. It's the best meal I've ever had."
"Thank you!" Snow White said warmly. "But save room for dessert! I made that gooseberry pie specially for you!" She stood up and went to the kitchen to get it.
Watching her, Gaston thought, Where have you been all my life? Snow White was amazing. She was the perfect woman. So it was only fitting that she should marry the perfect man, which was him.
Maybe I'll propose to her tonight! he thought with sudden inspiration.
But then he hesitated. Although he would never ever admit it, even to himself, the Belle fiasco had planted a tiny seed of doubt in his mind.
Before Belle, he had always assumed that any woman would be thrilled at the chance to marry him. But Belle had rejected him, dumped him in the mud, told him she preferred a monstrous Beast to him...and then married a prince.
Of course, Snow White wasn't crazy like Belle. And she seemed to enjoy being with him and to admire him. Surely she'd be overjoyed to be his wife!
But still...Snow White was a princess. She was entitled to a prince. And if Belle, who was only a mere peasant, had turned Gaston down and married a prince...wasn't there a possibility, however slim, that Snow White would do the same?
Of course, Gaston wouldn't admit that there was any reason to be worried, even to himself. Instead, he told himself that it was simply too soon to propose. He needed to court Snow White a bit longer, to make completely certain that she saw him as her "one true love." Then they would marry and live happily ever after. He just needed to be patient.
She came out of the kitchen with the gooseberry pie. "Dessert!" she sang out happily, and they ate the pie together.
After dinner, Snow White sat in a chair, darning some of his socks that she had noticed had holes in them when she was doing the washing. "Gaston, will you tell me some more stories about your adventures?" she asked while she worked. "I'd love to hear them. They're so exciting!"
"Of course!" Gaston said, completely forgetting that he had planned to go to the tavern that night. There was nowhere he would rather be right now than spending a cozy evening telling stories of his adventures to his bride-to-be.
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In her castle, the Evil Queen, Grimhilde, had spent a lovely few hours pampering and beautifying herself. Now that that wretched little urchin Snow White is dead, I am by far the fairest in the land! she thought smugly.
She strode to her magic mirror, eager to hear the compliment that would flatter her vanity.
"Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?" she asked confidently
"In the country of France, in a hunter's hall, is Snow White, the fairest of them all," the mirror replied.
"WHAT?" the Queen shrieked. "That cannot be! Snow White lies dead in the forest. The huntsman has brought me proof. Behold, her heart!" She held up the box.
"Snow White still lives, the fairest in the land. 'Tis the heart of a pig you hold in your hand," the mirror said calmly.
"The heart of a pig! Then I've been tricked!" The Queen paced the floor in a fury. Then she looked at the mirror. "You say the little brat is in a hunter's hall? What hunter? Not my huntsman, surely!"
"No, fair Queen. His name is Gaston. It is her that his heart is set upon."
"Do you mean he wants to marry her?" the Queen scoffed. "Show me this hunter who protects Snow White. I must learn all that I can about him, that I may best determine how to dispose of him."
Obligingly, the mirror showed her scenes of Gaston's life. The Queen leaned forward to watch, intrigued.
Then, slowly, she smiled. "Well, well, well. How very interesting. It seems Snow White's so-called 'hero' has quite the villainous past! Vengeful, ruthless, egotistical, not terribly bright, easily manipulated..." She leaned back on her throne, already forming schemes in her head. "Yes, I think he will do very nicely. It seems I won't need to dispose of him after all. I can find much better uses for him..."
"Fair Queen, I must show you more you must know," the mirror interrupted. "There is another who seeks the hand of Snow White, the fairest in the land."
The Queen glared at him in irritation. "Another suitor? Who?"
The mirror showed her another picture. "On his noble steed he does ride, searching for Snow White far and wide."
"So I see." The Queen pondered this new development for a long time. "So...the man protecting Snow White is known to be jealous and vengeful...and unbeknownst to him, she has another suitor that she never saw fit to tell him about, who is searching for her even as we speak to make her his bride. How truly delicious."
She stood up. "Mirror, we are going on a journey. I must pack up all my potions and spellbooks – and you too, of course. I do believe I know a way to make all these seeming obstacles work in my favor."
She began to gather up her possessions, smiling cruelly as she thought of her scheme. "Snow White, you foolishly believe that you have escaped me, but I shall track you down to the ends of the earth. And when I find you, your handsome hunter shall not protect you. In fact...he will help me destroy you!"
Her evil laugh rang out through the castle, making even her raven tremble.