Chapter 9: Some of Them Are in Greek

Back at the castle, the Beast gazed after Belle where she was playing with Sultan, the ottoman cushion, in the snow. The young woman's laugh and smile were infectious, even from a distance where the Beast studied her from the balcony of his chambers, overlooking the courtyard. The Beast could only be on his feet and out in the fresh air for up to ten, fifteen minutes at a time – he couldn't stand too long on his hind legs as they still needed to heal – and yet despite this, the signs of Belle's joy (among the first she had shown since arriving at the castle) warmed the Beast's heart so that he didn't feel any of the lingering, residual pain.

"I've never felt this way about anyone…" the Beast mumbled, half to himself. He still didn't know quite what that feeling was. All he knew was that, "I want to do something for her! …. But what?"

From where they were perched on the balcony railing, Cogsworth and Lumiere looked at each other, encouraged but stumped.

"Well, there's always the usual things: flowers. Chocolates. Promises you don't intend to keep…" Cogsworth rattled off.

"No, no, this is no ordinary girl!" Lumiere counseled them both. "It has to be something special. Something that…. sparks her interest!" The candelabra's candles illuminated as a light bulb went off in his mind.

The opportunity for that spark came the following morning, when the Beast was still resting in his chambers in the West Wing and Belle was visiting him, reading a book that she'd happened to find lying around in her own rooms. It was so exciting to know that this book also happened to be one of her favorites. Belle knew it by heart, enough that she began reciting the truly genius prose as she combed her fingers through her long, chestnut tresses. She found this particular stanza more applicable to her new, every-day life than she had ever before thought possible, as she stole glances at the burly, in some ways striking creature sleeping in the bed a few feet away.

"Love can transpose to form and dignity. Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind…."

"… and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind." A deep rumbling baritone joined her in finishing the verse in perfect time, and Belle lifted her eyes to lock onto the deep blue ones of the Beast. She had no idea the man – er, beast – was so educated, and she also felt a tad bit of shame for what her past assumptions about him implied. Could not a beast be well read in the classics? He did live in a castle that boasted a library, or so Lumiere had claimed.

"You know Shakespeare?"

The Beast shrugged. "I had a very expensive education."

Belle smiled shyly, hesitantly. Apart from the bookseller and her father, she had never encountered anyone in Villeneuve who had a passion for books and study. Her neighbors had been working-class people, and not very well read – some weren't even literate. In the few nights she had spent with her husband, Gaston had sat through and permitted her reading to him aloud at night by the fire, but he never seemed to listen with much attention. This man…. beast, on the other hand…

"Actually, Romeo and Juliet is my favorite play," she confessed, almost bubbling.

The Beast merely greeted this with an eye-roll. "Why am I not surprised?"

Belle cocked a ruffled eyebrow more loaded than one of her husband's rifles. "I'm sorry?" Her tone was laced with offense.

The Beast, however, just smirked. "All that romance and pining…" He visibly shuddered. "There are so many better things to read."

"Like what?" Belle prissily stood, hands on her hips, the challenge thrown down. The mirth continued to tug at the Beast's face as he swung out of bed and padded out of his chambers, Belle hovering after him in a mixture of curiosity and also concern for his health. He still wasn't supposed to spend too much time on his feet. "Oh, no, you don't!"

But the Beast just led her to a large, set of double doors before turning back to her almost bashfully. "Belle… there's something I want to show you." He started to open the doors, then turned back. "But, first, you have to close your eyes."

Belle lifted an eyebrow in skeptical bemusement.

"It's a surprise."

Belle softly closed her eyelids. A moment later, she heard the double doors open, then felt the Beast's large warm paws cover her dainty little hands as he led her inside.

"Can I open them?"

"No, not yet." She felt him drop her hands suddenly. "Wait here." A rustling, and then light from a glare threatened to invade her closed lids. "Now can I open them?"

"All right…. now!"

Belle had had a feeling the Beast was about to show her the library she had skipped seeing on her tour with Cogsworth and Lumiere, but she still gasped when she took in the sight of it. The bookshelves rose as high as many of the trees in the forests beyond her village. The high, arched ceiling reminded her of the one in the entrance hall. "I can't believe it! I've never seen so many books in all my life!"

"You… you like it?" The Beast brightened, like he couldn't quite believe she would.

"It's wonderful!"

"Then…. it's yours!"

She gaped at him, beaming, and even blushed a little at the own happiness reflecting back at her in his eyes. She shook a little, flustered by the odd feeling burgeoning in her. Why was she thinking these thoughts? She was married! She had a husband at home!

Except home in Villeneuve wasn't starting to feel like home…. Just as Gaston was only barely registering at moments like this, when the Beast stared at her like that and Belle found herself staring right back, and wondering…

She distracted herself with an easier, far less emotionally tempestuous inquiry. "Have you really read every one of these books?"

"No, not all of them – some of them are in Greek." He delivered this in such a perfectly dry deadpan that Belle let out a gawking laugh for a moment.

"Was that…. a joke? Are you making jokes now?" she smiled, terribly amused.

There was that smirk again, and her stomach oddly flip-flopped. "Maybe." Then he sauntered away – hopefully, straight back to bed. Belle, meanwhile, drew both hands to her mouth over her happy, radiant smile and let out a happy squeal, rushing to explore her new paradise of a hideaway.

From that time on, the Beast and Belle grew ever closer. Feeling guilty about their argument over dinner, Belle made it up to her new friend by taking all her meals with him in the dining room. She quickly adopted the practice of bringing a book to read with her at the table. Back in the village, it would have been impolite – Gaston had certainly never liked it, only tolerating Belle's reading in small doses. But despite being in a castle where table manners would have been a greater emphasis, the Beast didn't seem to mind at all. Soon, he was copying Belle's practice and bringing his own tome to study. Some meals passed in companionable silence with the young woman and the dashing large creature just reading silently across the long table. Other times, they would compare notes about what they were reading, or even read aloud to each other.

Dinner… dates turned into long walks along the grounds. The palace and all its land really was beautiful in the wintertime. On one such snowy morning, Belle was reading a poem from the delightful William Sharp:

"The air is blue and keen and cold…. and in a shining sheath enrolled. Each branch, each twig, each blade of grass seems clad miraculously with glass…."

She and her friend stopped on a small footbridge spanning the babbling brook that passed through the castle grounds, its waters now frozen over. Gazing out at the view, Belle smiled as she continued reciting: "Above the ice-bound streamlet bends each frozen fern with crystal ends. For in that solemn silence is heard the whisper of every sleeping thing: Look, look at me. Come wake me up…." She lifted her head, locking eyes with the Beast's eyes as blue as the ice around them, and nearly lost her breath, so much so that she almost couldn't finish the last line:

"For still here I be."