The old bookkeeper was dusting off his top shelves when the small bell on his door rang. He turned, smiling, already knowing who would be there so early. "Belle, I don't believe you've finished that book already…" He looked up through his spectacles to see Gaston scowling back at him with Lefou standing stupidly at this side. "Well," the gent said, fixing his glasses. "I thought I knew everyone in town."
"My name is Gaston," Gaston introduced haughtily.
"Lefou," his lackey supplied.
"I'd like to speak with you, if I could," Gaston said, sitting himself down at the keeper's desk. Once again, the keeper adjusted his glasses in confusion and slowly climbed off of the ladder.
"Well, sure, I guess."
"What exactly do you do here," Gaston inquired, setting his muddy boots on a pile of papers. The man started to protest, but Lefou gave him an angry sneer.
"This is a library," the keeper stated. "I lend books to people and occasionally let them buy them, if they like." Gaston picked up a random story and flipped through the pages.
"What are they about," Lefou demanded, trying to look through one upside down. "I don't see any pictures, any maps!"
"They're stories!" the keeper burst. "They're about different lands and times, history and fantasy…"
"Fantasy," Gaston interrupted. "Fairy tales. Useless wastes of paper."
"Perhaps if you read a book, you'd understand," the keeper scolded. Gaston scoffed and tossed his book aside. Lefou did the same, but knocked over a canister of pencils. He scrambled to try and replace them.
"Just as I thought." Gaston stood and headed for the door. Flinging the door open, he paused, turning and lifting a finger to the old man. "You just wait," he threatened. "I'll take care of this little waste of space." With that, he left, leaving the door to knock Lefou back. He soon scurried after. While crossing the busy village street, Gaston spotted Belle trying to sneak by. She had covered her head in a scarf and was carrying a basket. He quickly blocked her path. "Belle!"
"Gaston, if you please," she said quietly, keeping her head down and her items close to her side. "I need to be going."
"Where? To the bookstore?" he said slyly, motioning to the small shop. "Well, it will be your last trip." Belle looked up, terror filling her eyes. Was he threatening one of the things she cherished in her small home?
"What are you talking about," she murmured.
"I think I've had enough with you reading books about made-up phooey. You know, Belle, if I wanted to close the bookstore, I could. I'm a very powerful man." With a newfound rage, Belle pushed by him.
"Powerful perhaps, but a man, no!" Gaston gasped, Lefou's mouth gaping. The arrogant hunter clenched a fist and started after her, but halted. Belle slipped into the bookstore while Gaston spun off to the tavern. He would need to think about his next move.
"Monsieur?" Belle called softly, looking about the small store. "Are you here?"
"Belle!" he replied, still shaken. "Thank goodness."
"I just ran into Gaston, please; tell me, what did he tell you?" The keeper shook his head, stammering.
"Don't…don't you worry about it, he won't close me. He can't keep everyone from wanting to learn!" Belle was shocked. He planned to close the bookstore. Without another word, she proceeded to return home. Walking up over the hill, she looked up to her peaceful cottage and gasped. An old, broken carriage with no wheels was in front of her door, lopsided, and open.