A/N: Hi all, and welcome back! I kind of skipped over "Beast Introducing Belle to the library" bit, as we've seen it before, and didn't think it was necessary to the plot, but the library IS featured for an important chapter upcoming soon, so I had to slip in a mention. I hope you enjoy it!
Please forgive any typos!
CHAPTER 26
MONSIEUR Lumiere could not recollect a time when his master was ever quite this nervous. He watched, the agitated, hulking monstrous form of the Beast-Prince, restlessly pace a straight line back and forth on the terrace of the West Wing.
"Did you ask her when you dropped off my invitation?" he barked hoarsely, of course, referring to his request that he join her for dinner following their afternoon spent in the book.
The little candelabra huffed, trying to disguise his mounting frustration at being asked the same inquiry for what felt like the hundredth time. He exhaled shortly and loudly.
"No, master, it is not exactly a topic of which I am permitted to discuss with the young mademoiselle, Your Highness, nor is it something that is typically broached in polite conversation." Lumiere couldn't help but roll his eyes.
He was honestly surprised that the Beast had (finally) taken notice of himself, Monsieur Cogsworth, and Mrs. Potts.
The servant did not know what had transpired between the master of the castle and his hearth keep, but it had perhaps been enough to open his eyes and be a bit more receptive and intuitive to his surroundings.
The Prince had nearly tripped over Monsieur Cogsworth in the hallway on the way back to the West Wing, much to the clock's disdain and humiliation.
"Here is the master's invitation to dine with him tonight, and by the way, are you falling in love with the master?" Lumiere mocked, folding his arms, and trying not to burn himself from the flames that emitted from his wicks.
The Beast raised his brows and grunted.
"So, perhaps in private and a bit more tactful, Lumiere, which has never been a problem with you considering your…ways with women, but yes, something like that," he snapped indignantly, causing Lumiere to shirk away in surprise.
He really hoped he wouldn't give him another bite.
Lumiere shook his head sadly and returned the master's annoyed expression, the Beast's blue eyes brimming with annoyance and…something else, a foreign emotion that the little candelabra was having trouble pinpointing just what it was, but it was a look that came up quite frequently whenever the lady Belle was mentioned.
"You, of all people should know that your prickly little hearth keep would see through such lies in the blink of an eye, master," Lumiere patiently reminded him.
The master of the castle remained uncharacteristically quiet for a moment, studying the stone floor of the West Wing's balcony terrace in a far too engrossed manner.
He very nearly gave Lumiere a heart attack right there on the spot with his next words.
"I…. please, Lumiere. I beseech you for your help," he urged the shell-shocked little candelabra, a desperate twinge seeping its way into his gruff voice.
Lumiere blinked, gaping at the master of the castle in disbelief and shock, and then let out a sigh.
He thought that he was beginning to understand that their master was falling for the young mademoiselle, though whether or not the master was aware of these feelings remained to be brought to light.
Lumiere believed the young master was of a mind that he could not face his future without Belle.
Although the young mademoiselle would likely be the first to deny her emotions she harbored for the Prince, if any, Lumiere could only hope that she was beginning to feel the same feelings that were very clearly burgeoning within the master of the castle.
Their lives depended upon it happening, after all. Lumiere thought that he would do anything to break this horrible witch's curse, to see himself, the other servants, and the master, reverted human again.
And yet, he dreaded what her reaction would be.
Lumiere dipped his head in response to the Prince's appeal, thinking that this was a landmark moment, this being the first time the young master had ever come to a servant and begged them for their help.
How could he possibly refuse him? Lumiere sighed.
"Very well, master," he agreed. "I shall ask her this evening; I suspect I will find her in the library. I've not been able to pull her away from there since you introduced it to her following your little…escape, into the witch's book," he chuckled, and hobbled out of the West Wing, leaving the master of the castle alone with his thoughts.
THE dusk had settled over the Prince's estate, so soft and golden, that it was hard to imagine these lands were cursed. It was in the library, as Lumiere had predicted, that he found the young woman sitting, perched on top of a windowsill ledge, a pillow behind her back, her nose buried in a book, as usual, in a way that set the candelabra smiling a little bit.
But she did not appear to be reading it. Her dark eyes remained fixated on the words that jumped out at the page, the candelabra saw, but her irises were glossy and distant. As if she were somewhere else.
Her secluded little hideaway was tucked into the furthermost corner of the library, near the fireplace. The little alcove in which the young woman had been content to tuck herself into with a book and intent to meditate provided ample protection from any prying eyes, and simply allowed Belle to be alone with her many thoughts.
Lumiere smiled and quietly ducked out of the library through the front door, where his master lingered out in the corridor, waiting for him.
The Beast knew where she would be. Ever since he had shown her his massive library and its collections of books, tomes, and scrolls from around the world throughout different periods in time, she'd been hooked.
He had often watched unobserved Belle walk through the rows and shelves of books, the pads of her fingertips grazing the spines of the books, marveling at his vast collection. He would let himself smile as on more than one occasion, he would hear the girl mumble about how the Prince had more books than she could read in a lifetime.
Lumiere met the Prince just outside the hallway that would take them to the library, and to Belle's hidden sanctuary. The Beast slowed his pace as they approached, his tongue suddenly feeling thick and rendered useless in his mouth, and when he swallowed past a lump in his throat, it felt as though he were swallowing sharp knives.
Lumiere had agreed to pose his question to Belle, and for the first time, the Beast felt genuine actual fear, uncertain as to what the young woman's response would be. His chest felt like a bottom-less cavern, his heart pounding so damned audibly loud within the confines of his chest that he was sure that Lumiere could hear it now.
Suddenly, the master of the castle found himself fearing the answer that Belle may give his Head of House.
Almost as if Lumiere could sense his uneasiness, the candelabra slowly swiveled its head to look at him.
"Young master? Are you quite well?" Lumiere questioned, watching the Beast's brows twitch in agitation.
But the Beast hardly heard his servant's query.
"Yes," he answered stiffly in a gruff, hoarse voice now calloused with ire, his thoughts turning dark, a tempest forming in his mind.
What in God's name would he do if Belle happened to reject him? What then? Was he and the rest doomed to stay like this…forever? The thought sent a violent chill down his spine.
"There is still time, Your Highness. We can still put a stop to this fool's errand, young master," Lumiere offered, sounding almost hopeful, though his expression grew crestfallen as he noticed the master of the castle shoot him a rueful glower.
"No," the Beast protested, a low growl erupting from deep within his chest, causing his chest to almost vibrate from the wolfish sound that made the candelabra flinch away. "I have to know."
He tried to find the strength buried deep within himself that was sure of Belle's growing affections for him, even after all he had done, and he was sure he did not deserve her love.
Lumiere's previously hopeful stance deflated a bit with his haggard-sounding sight. He felt uneasy and more than a little terrible about prying into Belle's private life.
However, he had seen the firsthand pain which she was still struggling to come to terms with, as well as his master's.
If he could somehow have a part in mending these two individuals' broken hearts, then Lumiere thought he'd accept the embarrassment, gladly so.
"Very well," he nodded, begrudgingly. "Let us get on with it, then, master, shall we?" he asked, apprehensively as he motioned with a tiny wave of his arm towards the library's door. Breathing deep and forcing his heart to remain calm, Lumiere hobbled into the library through the front door with a grunt, having to hop up a couple of times to open the door, much to the Beast's amusement, too prideful to ask his master for help.
The Beast trailed behind the candelabra, unhindered.
Quickly realizing that he was being followed, Lumiere halted his progress and turned.
"Ah, master…given the sensitive nature of that which I'm about to discuss, perhaps it would be best if you were to wait here?" Lumiere suggested, awkwardly.
At first, the Beast shot his servant a quizzical stare, but then it dawned on him that his intimidating presence would most certainly be detrimental to his cause.
"Oh. Of course." The Beast assented his agreement as he backed away, but not before shooting Lumiere a rueful look. "But you will tell me everything she says," he reminded Lumiere, almost vehemently.
Lumiere frowned. "Yes, yes, yes, I know, master, I know." The agitated little candelabra irritably waved the Beast-Prince off. "I shall relay to you all that the young mademoiselle chooses to divulge, you've my word, sire."
He hoped that his report would bring his master more hope than sorrow, but that was up to her.
The Beast nodded, looking like he was already almost anticipating the worst from his hearth keep.
Lumiere continued through the vast, empty library. As he hobbled towards Belle's little sanctuary, his mind felt like it was racing as he tried to determine where to begin his reconnaissance on behalf of the young master.
He wrung his hands together, trying to rehearse practiced words he knew would fail him when the moment came. He was standing before the lady Belle before he even realized it.
He'd been so lost in his own thoughts that he had not even noticed he had arrived.
Ahead of him, a few paces, she was where he knew she would be: perched atop the windowsill on a bunch of cushions and pillows, her nose buried in another book. Lumiere stood unnoticed for a moment, then awkwardly cleared his throat to draw her attention down towards the ground.
"Excuse me, milady Belle," he offered quietly, internally cringing and wishing by God that the master was not making him do this on his own behalf.
Belle's shoulders rose sharply as she jumped, startled by Lumiere's sudden appearance that had effectively pulled her from her reading. She had not expected her time alone to be interrupted as she shot the candelabra a furtive, guilty look, of which Lumiere felt all the worse for and found himself cursing the master. Her head spun around and down to the floor to see her fellow servant standing nervously at the edge of the windowsill, struggling to hop up and join her there.
"Oh, Monsieur Lumiere," she breathed, relieved it hadn't been the master who had come calling on her.
In truth, she had been somewhat avoiding the Prince ever since their jaunt into the witch's book, wanting the time alone to sort through her feelings.
"What is it? Oh, here let me help you," she murmured, a light teasing chuckle escaping her lips as she noticed Lumiere grunting with the effort to try to pull himself up onto the windowsill and bent to scoop him up and set the candelabra down, close to her feet. She started to pull herself off the ledge upon seeing Lumiere's growing nervous expression, fearful that something was amiss, perhaps with the master and that the Prince had sent Lumiere to summon her now.
Lumiere, looking somewhat perturbed, gestured that there was no need for Belle to rise on his account.
"Do forgive the intrusion, milady," he begged, furrowing his brows as he knew that somewhere, hidden in the shadows of this library, he was listening. "All is well, there is no cause for alarm," he shot her a strained smile and tried to reassure her. Then his voice faltered self-consciously. "I—I ah…was wondering if I might have a word with you, in private?" Lumiere suddenly couldn't bring his eyes to meet hers as he instead forced his gaze to look out the window.
Belle still felt as though she should be concerned at Lumiere's uncharacteristically somber demeanor. It was not like her fellow servant, not to be so jovial. She scooted along the ledge, making more room so he could sit. "Please, won't you sit?" she asked, motioning towards the empty space, and quickly shut her book.
Lumiere exhaled rather dramatically and loudly, visibly letting himself relax as his shoulders slumped.
For some reason, he felt as though sitting alongside the young mademoiselle would make this next part of his egregious and unsavory task easier.
"Thank you, milady," he acknowledged, nervously, and moved to take his place beside Belle.
THE Beast paced a restless line at the entrance to the library, where Lumiere had bid him to wait here. He felt as though his wretched skin were too tight, and he might shed it and crawl from it any moment, like a reptilian beast.
He was beginning to grow increasingly desperate to hear the young woman's truest feelings about him, that after a short while of waiting and cursing to himself under his breath, he disregarded his servant's advice to remain in the corridor, against his better judgement, and ventured as quietly as he could, into the library.
Were the Prince anyone else, he surely would have made his presence known. However, the Prince had grown accustomed to skulking about and hiding in the shadows following this hideous transformation, and when he was younger, sneaking around through the various passageways of the castle was a skill learned and perfected at a young age, when his desire to read in secret, books Father would not have deemed appropriate, had been his sole driving force.
Bile rose in his throat at the thought of the late Duke, and he forced himself to swallow it down. Thoughts of the monster who he had been forced to call his father, that man, that demon who had once controlled his every moment, were flitting and disappearing like black spring rain clouds.
Thoughts of Father and Mother were little challenge compared to the shining beacon of light that Belle was slowly but surely bringing to him. Even as he slunk through the vast shelves of the library, he felt lithe and spry at simply imagining the young woman.
Within a few moments, he found himself but paces away from her. The Beast drew in a sharp breath and held it, waiting to see if Belle had heard any noise.
There was a part of the Prince that almost found himself amused, that he always seemed to be hiding, eavesdropping, or spying on the lady from across some barrier of space that always existed between them both.
It was a fair comparison, he believed, to the nature of their relationship, if anything was forming.
His footsteps halted as peering over the corner of the nearest bookshelf, Belle came into his line of sight. He could not see her face, she sat with her profile turned to the side as she was speaking to Lumiere.
Even her silhouette was enough to steal away the very breath from his lungs.
The Beast hardly knew if his heart was even beating in his chest as her sweet and shy voice, now deep in discussion with his Head of House, came to his ears, which roared with the sound of his own blood.
His mind took him back to the afternoon spent in that fantastical fictional village in the hag's old book. Wanting to revisit that moment with her again, or perhaps make a new memory alongside her if she would have him, he firmly pressed his body tight against the wide shelf of the bookshelf, careful not to topple its contents and alert Belle to his presence.
When he was around her, he did not think he could explain away the peace wallowing in his soul. Never before in his life had he known such happiness since the day he had bought her that dagger. The dagger, he was pleased to see, that she kept in its sheath around her waist. Pride swelled in his chest, though it was instantly replaced with worry and concern, hoping that young lady would never have to use it if she found herself in a precarious position.
He wanted to gather up the warm feeling burgeoning in his chest and bottle it forever in a vial and keep said vial close to his heart in his shirt pocket. Although it broke the Prince physically to look upon the scar on her otherwise flawless and perfect visage, he could at least, take comfort in the fact that Belle was choosing to remain in the castle with him.
He had fallen so far from that time.
The Prince was thinking he was finally finding the honor he always wanted, to know what it meant to be loved by a strong, fierce, independent, and beautiful young woman, if she would but continue to stay with him, to break that wall.
The Beast found it strange how quickly accustomed he had become to hiding in the shadows, praying to God or whomever would listen to a bastard like him, for any word he could learn from his servant.
He knew this was an invasion of Belle's privacy, but he could not stop himself. Was this the only way that he could get close enough to her? His days were spent hoping for glimpsed of the girl from a distance.
He was starving to love her, to know the girl's passions and share her life, to break this horrible affliction he'd been cursed with for actions that he knew were wrong.
He knew that now and would spend the rest of his life willing and able to make it up to her if she'd let him.
It was this thought, and this thought alone that compelled the Beast to stay quiet, and to listen in…
BELLE remained blissfully unaware of their secret audience of one, as did Lumiere. The two servants would have appeared more like strangers to one another as they sat awkwardly on the windowsill.
Lumiere sat staring stiffly ahead of him, not really looking at or paying attention to any one thing in the master's library in particular. Belle watched Lumiere's odd behavior with mounting confusion.
As Lumiere continued to grow increasingly uncomfortable in the silence, he opened his mouth to speak. Firmly deciding against his previous plan of attack in how best to broach the uncomfortable subject matter, his jaw clamped shut as he shook his head to himself. He was squirming like a child caught in a lie.
After the third or fourth try, Belle came to realize that she was going to have to take the initiative to speak first and lead their conversation, though she was still at a loss as to what it was Lumiere wanted to speak to her about.
From his hiding place, the Beast feared Lumiere was going to ruin the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that had presented itself to him.
"Monsieur," Belle began speaking calmly, hoping to settle the flustered little candelabra's nerves. "Was there something you wanted to say to me, sir?"
She raised her eyebrows coaxingly at Lumiere.
Lumiere shot her an anxious smile. "Um, I—I…I don't…I never…" He stammered, tripping over his words. He swallowed down hard, nearly choking as without any warning, the master's Head of House began to swiftly change the direction of his thoughts, his gaze floating downward towards the book resting in her lap. "That is to say, I meant to say that I've noticed that since the master has introduced you to this place," he added, gesturing towards the vast library with a flourish of his little arm, "that you have been doing an excellent job in cleaning the library and tending the books," he praised.
Upon hearing her fellow servant's praise, Belle smiled as she shyly nodded her head, glancing down at the book in her lap with a tenderness that the Beast found himself wishing was directed at him.
For a moment, he felt jealous of that book, wishing he were the book, that he could feel how softly her fingertips moved as her fingers ghosted over the book's leather-bound cover.
"This library is beautiful," she murmured approvingly, casting her gaze towards the dozens of shelves filled to the brim with every kind of book imaginable. "The master was kind enough to grant me permission to come here whenever I wish," she said, though her expression cooled at the mention of him.
The Beast's heart fell at her emotionless descriptions of his efforts to please her, to ensure that her stay here in the castle with him would be as comfortable and accommodating as he could make it.
A suspicion began welling within Belle upon seeing how flustered Lumiere was becoming. Ever since she and the Prince had returned from their 'outing' in the witch's cursed book, she had seen the master of the castle conversing with the little candelabra, clock, and teapot at times during the past day or so.
Belle had assumed that they could only be talking about her. She startled, pulled from her musings as she heard Lumiere inhale deeply, and then the servant looked earnestly in Belle's direction.
"Milady," Lumiere awkwardly began, his voice laden with a bit perhaps too much sympathy for Belle to truly consider it genuine, his brow furrowed with too much care.
Something was amiss. Belle felt her own eyebrows furrow in confusion.
"I—I understand that I walk a steep path with you, Belle, and I've no right to voice such an opinion on this matter…" Lumiere's face flushed red at how personal his words to the girl sounded. "B—but it's only out of the deepest concern for you and the master that I—"
"Please don't, just say your piece, monsieur," Belle interjected, growing frustrated at Lumiere's roundabout explanation. "We are both equals here in this castle, I like to consider you and the rest as my friends, not to speak candidly with each other," she added softly as she echoed Mrs. Potts' sentiments towards her, she had voiced during her first night here in the castle.
Her attitude softened, sensing Lumiere's shift in countenance and crestfallen demeanor as she touched his arm, hoping to reassure Lumiere that she meant him no harm.
"Whatever you want to tell me, sir, I won't judge, you have my word, sir," she promised, affectionately patting his arm.
Belle studied Lumiere with a quiet but kind intensity.
Hidden behind the solidarity of the shelf, the Beast was unable to quell the jealousy welling in his chest as he wished it was for his arm that she reached.
Lumiere nodded.
"I… I believe that…the master, he… is growing to care for you, milady, perhaps he…might…might even love you, Belle, if you'd have him," he blurted out, unceremoniously so, shaking his head, hoping that Belle would allow him to continue.
Oh, God, but this situation could not possibly get any more awkward.
He had not intended to blurt it out in such a manner, but the young woman had a way of staring into his eyes as though she were boring a hole right through him. Belle remained silent for a minute.
Almost as if some strange magic, perhaps yet another side effect of this spell that had been placed on the Prince, had transported her back to the time spent with the master in the book, she again felt all that had changed within the man, for yes, he'd been a man then.
Belle swallowed and spoke slowly, afraid that her perfected facade of cold empathy would crumble in front of Lumiere.
"I know and understand his reasons for keeping me here, Monsieur Lumiere," she continued at last after a bit of a lengthy pause, her throat feeling stiff as she summoned strength to speak. "But it was to someone else to whom his heart was supposed to belong, a noblewoman born of blue blood, a someone that is not me, sir," she whispered, thinking of the golden-haired, fair-skinned Princess Circe that she had met her first night within these castle's walls.
A bitter, disgusting heat stung the back of her throat, as if even uttering the royal princess's name were attacking her.
Unseen to her or to Lumiere, the Beast raked his claws down the side of the wooden shelf that hid him from the young hearth keep's line of sight. The Beast's eyes widened in shock and awe as he realized what was keeping Belle from coming to terms with her own feelings, as he had come to terms with his.
She firmly believed that she was not worthy of him. He mourned the fact that Belle did not trust the fidelity of his heart for her as she'd wormed her way beneath his skin and had made a home for herself right there in the damned feeble quivering muscle in his chest, whether the Prince liked that about her or not.
Somehow, as Lumiere was forced to venture further and further into confessing the master's motives, Lumiere felt his own courage growing instead of him.
The candelabra shook his head forcefully in contradiction of the young woman's words, not refusing to let her think that for a second.
"It is you whom the master is growing quite fond of, that he loves, milady. Truly. You are the one who now posses the master's heart, Belle," Lumiere blurted out his words with no subtlety.
Hidden completely by the bookshelf behind which he cowered, the Beast's breaths hitched and caught in his throat and his heart froze, terror seizing his chest in an icy vice grip as it constricted with hope and fear while he waited for Belle to respond to Lumiere's blunt but otherwise honest words.
Belle gave a slight, almost bitter chuckle, before coming back to herself a bit and pulling her emotions into the carefully guarded vault that was her heart, around which she had been a stone wall.
"I don't doubt that your Prince believes he might hold feelings for me," she nodded. "I cannot believe that he would take advantage of me, not after…"
She let her voice trail off as again, her mind's eye took her back to the afternoon the two of them had spent in the witch's magical book. She fought back the bitter onslaught of briny liquid that stung at the edges of her eyes and swallowed a lump in her throat, not wishing for Lumiere to see her like this in a moment of growing weakness.
Even from a distance, the Beast could hear the quivering lilt in Belle's quiet and reserved voice as she finished her blatant denial of the possibility that his affection and adoration for her, was genuine.
It broke his heart and threatened to rip him completely asunder, but he had no time to dwell on it as once again, the sound of her voice commanded his attention, and he strained his ears to listen to Belle.
"There was…a moment, that I thought I was beginning to understand that he might care for me in some way," Belle whispered in a hushed voice as visions of the Prince smiling at her in the fictional marketplace of the witch's book once again came to her mind's eye.
How tender and kind he had been towards her, almost, dare she think this next part, even affectionate.
"But I was fooling myself, sir," she confessed. "I am not a highborn woman, even if he were…to feel that way, there is no way that such a union could be allowed."
She swallowed down past a lump in her throat and grabbed the book she had been reading, clutching the small tome close to her chest, unwilling to look Lumiere in the eyes and see the servant's pained look.
Her chest bubbled with frustration and pain at the memory, fearful now that a few more moments in Lumiere's company would bring forth the sobbing and tears that she was trying so desperately to control now.
"I think that he does care for me, Lumiere," she confessed. "Just… just not enough to set me free," Belle said dryly, her voice nearly a choked whisper that was threatening to turn into a sob.
She did not let Lumiere speak as she turned on her heels and quit the scene, leaving Lumiere rooted to his spot on the windowsill.
Although her voice was faint and weak, fighting back tears as she struggled to regain her composure, the Beast had heard every word of the woman's crushing lament. The girl's words hit him like a painful slap to the face.
He had hurt Belle beyond measure, perhaps even beyond the point of any hope of forgiveness from her.
His legs felt as though they had gone to jelly beneath him, almost unable to support his weight as the Beast emerged, shamefaced, and slowly from his hiding place once he was confident that Belle had quit the library.
The Beast shuffled numbly to the windowsill that Lumiere was still perched upon. Lumiere did not even need to look up as the master's towering, hulking shadow completely covered the alcove in dark shadow.
He understood the master of the castle had been listening in to their every word. "You heard, sire?" Lumiere asked, almost rhetorically, and bitterly, too.
After a moment, somehow, by a miracle of God Himself, the Beast was able to summon enough strength on his throat to manage an answer to Lumiere.
Though his glistening blue eyes never left the walkway over which his hearth keep had swiftly fled.
"I heard," he confirmed remorsefully, turning away from Lumiere, and beginning to walk away from the stunned candelabra, though he paused when the candelabra's voice reached his ears once more, convincing the master of the castle to turn around.
"And…" Lumiere hesitated, hating seeing the crestfallen look of defeatism in the master's blue eyes.
He almost wasn't sure he wanted an answer to this next question, but Lumiere knew he had to get the question out.
"What are you going to do about it, Highness?"
It seemed to take the Beast an eternity to find his voice.
The Beast took a moment's breath to steady himself as the weighted realization of what he had to do to ensure Belle's happiness hit him as though someone had doused him in a bucket of ice-cold water.
Then his blue eyes turned steely, narrowing to daggers as he fixed Monsieur Lumiere with a pointed look, hoping that his tone to his servant left nothing to be misinterpreted.
"I'm going to do what I should have done, Lumiere, right from the moment she came to us."
"Which is…?" Lumiere coaxed gently, watching as his master's face never changed from his hurt look, as the Beast turned and stormed from the library.
The master's last words to his faithful servant were like a dagger to his heart and were a faint whisper.
"Let her go."
Lumiere blinked owlishly in shock at his master's retreating silhouette, taking the same path the young mademoiselle had just taken, feeling certain he had misheard.
"What?!" He could hardly believe his ears. "But...master, why?" he begged, desperation seeping its way to the surface of his tone.
The Beast turned to peer at Lumiere over his shoulder. The master of the castle did not speak, but to the candelabra, it was evident in the master's shimmering blue eyes why he was doing this.
Because...
Because he loved her.