CHAPTER 3
When he awoke, Gaston kept his eyes closed for a long time. Truth be told, he was afraid to open them. As long as he lay there with his eyes closed, he could believe that the horrific event of the night before was no more than a bad dream, and that he would open his eyes to his own familiar walls. He would be himself, with his devastatingly handsome looks and his Herculean strength.
And if that were the case, he would avoid Belle like the plague.
But he couldn't stay in bed forever. He finally opened his eyes, and his heart sank as he saw the room of the inn. He looked down at himself, at his feeble and undersize body. It was true, then. This nightmare was really happening.
Somehow it seemed much worse today. The night before, he had still been in shock, and running on pure adrenaline. But today, with the sun shining into the room, everything seemed so much more REAL. This was truly it. This was his body for the time being.
Maybe forever, a voice whispered in his mind. The very thought made him bolt upright in horror.
"NO!" he shouted aloud to the empty room. There was simply no way he was going to go through life as a puny little freak. He couldn't even consider the possibility. He always triumphed in the end, and this time would be no different.
Besides, he told himself, if that horrible, monstrous Beast could get a girl to love him and end his curse, certainly Gaston could do the same easily. He just needed a plan.
His brow furrowed. All right. He had to get a girl to fall in love with him. And judging from the triplets' reaction to his new appearance, it might take a bit longer than he had expected. He would have to approach as many girls as he could, and possibly even travel to different towns, to find the one who would end the curse.
He was filled with dread at the thought of being stuck in this form for days, or even weeks, while he searched for the right girl. If only he still had the magic mirror! He could have asked it to show him a girl who could love him in this form. And then, a map with directions to her house.
He wondered why the Beast had never thought of doing that. Probably too busy brooding and moping in that castle of his. Honestly, how stupid had that guy been? He knew that the only way to break the spell was to find a girl to love him. So what did he do? Locked himself away in his castle, thus guaranteeing that he would never meet any girl, ever. What an idiot.
Well, that wasn't Gaston's style. If he needed to find a girl, he would simply go out and find her. Whatever it took to get his life back.
Okay. So he would go out and talk to every girl he could find until he found the right one. But how could he make himself attractive to them? He grimaced at the thought that he, of all men, should ever have to ask that question. Yesterday, it would have seemed ridiculous.
Well, for one thing, he would need some new clothes, he thought, looking down at himself. He was still in the same outfit he'd worn yesterday. The clothes had magically shrunk with him when he was cursed, but he would certainly need more than one outfit. It obviously didn't come close to solving all his problems, but at least it was a place to start.
So, first order of business: he would go out, find a tailor and order some new clothes.
It was a relief to take a break from all this thinking and have something physical to actually do. He went down the stairs and outside into the sunny day.
It was a bright Wednesday morning. The cobblestone streets were full of carriages and people. Clermont-Ferrand was much larger and more well-to-do than his tiny village of Molyneaux. Well-dressed men and women chatted in a leisurely way or hurried along to the large, prosperous-looking shops. Gaston set off, looking for a tailor.
As he walked, he was uncomfortably aware of people staring at him. He heard whispers and giggles, and many were even rude enough to point openly.
A little boy blurted, "Mama, look at that funny little man!" His mother replied hastily, "That's a dwarf, honey. Don't stare." But her own eyes never left his face.
Gaston grimaced. He had always loved being the center of attention, but not like this. He'd enjoyed striding boldly into a room and immediately seeing all eyes turn to him with admiration and awe, or walking down the street and hearing all the girls sigh longingly as he passed. How different it felt now. The stares held pity and derision, and the sighs were replaced by snickering.
Three youths lounging on a corner whooped and catcalled when they saw him. "Look, a leprechaun!" joked one. "Hey, where's your pot of gold?" The others laughed.
Gaston's cheeks burned in mortification. It took every bit of willpower he had to walk on without reacting. Every fiber of his being urged him to whirl around and demand an apology, but he forced himself to stay silent, biting his lip so hard he tasted blood. He was no coward, and it galled him to let an insult go unchallenged. But he knew that in this feeble body, it would be foolish to get into a fight. Even LeFou could beat him now, he remembered with disgust.
It was appalling to feel so powerless. He mentally cursed the Enchantress. He knew this was exactly what she wanted. She had said he needed to learn...what was that word? Humility?
Well, too bad, he thought defiantly. This weak, pathetic form wasn't him. It was just her trickery. He knew who he was: Gaston, the handsomest, the strongest, the greatest hunter in the world. No witch's magic could ever change that.
His eye fell on a woman nearby gawking at him. He glared at her, meeting her eyes, and she hastily looked away. He continued on his way proudly, his head held as high as he could, trying his best to ignore the stares and whispers. It wasn't easy. But curse or no curse, he wasn't going to slink away in shame or hide in the shadows.
After what felt like an eternity, he reached his destination: Monsieur DeFarge, Tailor. Gaston pushed open the door and went in.
The bored old man behind the counter looked up, and looked startled at the sight of the dwarf. But he recovered quickly and merely asked politely, "May I help you?"
"I need some clothes," Gaston commanded imperiously. "Two outfits. In the finest cloth you have. And I want them by Friday."
"Friday?" The tailor chuckled. "I'm sorry, sir, but that's simply not possible."
Gaston reached into his jacket and dropped a handful of gold pieces on the counter. The tailor's eyes widened. "Friday, or I take my business elsewhere," threatened Gaston.
"Of course, sir," said the tailor quickly. He hadn't realized that this odd-looking character had so much cash at his disposal.
That's more like it, Gaston thought smugly.
The tailor took his measurements. He brought out some fabrics in subdued colors: gray, black, brown. "Will these do, monsieur?"
Gaston wrinkled his nose. "No." He pushed aside the drab fabrics and reached for his customary bold tones of red, yellow, and orange. "These," he said with satisfaction.
The tailor was surprised. "Are you sure?" he said doubtfully. "They're a bit...bright, aren't they?" He had assumed that someone so freakish looking would want to blend in as much as possible, and avoid attracting attention.
"That's what I want," Gaston said firmly.
"Very good, sir," said the tailor with a shrug.
Feeling a bit better, Gaston walked out of the shop. It was time to start looking for the girl who could change him back. In fact, he would probably find her today, and be back to his real life by nightfall, he told himself. He likely wouldn't even need the new clothes after all.
He spotted a pretty girl sweeping the porch in front of the bakery. Her dark brown hair and eyes reminded him of Belle. He went over to her. "Good morning, mademoiselle," he said charmingly.
She looked up, did a double take, then smiled politely. "Bonjour, monsieur. What do you need today? Bread, rolls, baguettes perhaps?"
"No, actually, I'm interested in you," he said flirtatiously. He imagined how the blonde triplets would have swooned if he had ever spoken so to them. "Would you like to take a stroll with me?"
Her smile froze, and her eyes darted to the side, as though seeking escape. "Um...thank you, sir, but I have to work," she said quickly. "And then...I don't think..." She floundered.
A big man with a moustache came out onto the porch. "Claire, aren't you finished sweeping yet? It's time for the bread to come out of the oven, and I'm busy with customers."
"Yes, Papa," she said with relief, and rushed into the shop.
The baker turned to Gaston. "May I help you, sir?"
"No, that's all right," said Gaston quickly, moving away.
All right, that hadn't worked. But there were plenty of other girls in town, he told himself. Surely one of them would be interested in him.
He next approached a blonde girl washing clothes in the fountain. "You look lovely today," he complimented her. "Would you like to go for a walk?"
She looked at him in disbelief, then burst out laughing. "No, I don't think so!" she said, shaking her head in amusement.
It went on like that. Gaston approached no fewer than 20 girls, but couldn't get a spark of interest from any of them.
Overcome with frustration, he returned to the inn. He had never imagined that it could take so much work simply to get a girl's attention! It had always been so easy before - all he'd had to do was gaze at a girl with his baby blue eyes, or flash her his dazzling smile, and she'd melt into a puddle.
But now, it seemed impossible. How could he get a girl to love him if he couldn't even get one to talk to him?
There had to be a way. He tried to think. What did girls find attractive in a man? Well, good looks and impressive strength of course - he knew that all too well. But not all men were strong or handsome. What else did girls like?
Suddenly the answer hit him, and he smiled in triumph. Rich men! Girls liked jewelry and dresses and pretty trinkets. He still had two bags of gold in his rucksack. He could use that money to impress a girl - wine and dine her and shower her with presents and jewelry to win her love. He was sure it would work.
He opened the rucksack and put one bag of gold in his jacket. He took the other bag of gold, put about 20 pieces back in the rucksack in case he needed them later, and put the remainder of the bag in his jacket with the first. Then he headed back to the center of town. He found a jewelry store and went in.
He saw a number of townspeople stop and stare in amazement through the big glass storefront window as he dumped the two big bags of gold onto the counter and proceeded to put ruby bracelets, diamond necklaces, emerald earrings, and much, much more into his bag.
Gaston grinned at the astonished looks on their faces. Now they would know he wasn't just some pathetic freak to be laughed at, he thought triumphantly. He was successful and important, a man to be reckoned with.
And that, he realized, was the key to ending his curse.
He made a point of picking up each glittering item and holding it up ostentatiously, as though examining it, letting the bystanders get a good look. He could see them whispering to each other and pointing at the lavish jewelry. Gaston smiled in satisfaction. He knew how gossip worked. Within 20 minutes the whole town would be buzzing about the incredibly wealthy man who had breezed in and bought out nearly the entire jewelry store.
Feeling smug, he left the store with a king's ransom of jewelry. He hefted the bag with satisfaction. This would certainly grab a girl's attention fast, he thought.
He looked around for a likely girl. But after all his hours of trying to talk to girls, then thinking and planning, then buying the jewelry, it was already starting to grow dark. People were closing up shop and hurrying home for dinner. His plan would have to wait till tomorrow.
Even better, he thought. Let them all spend the evening talking about this mysterious, fabulously rich stranger. By tomorrow morning, the girls would be lining up at his door, begging for his attention. Everyone in town would be trying to introduce him to their daughters and sisters. He would have his pick of girls to choose from.
With success so close at hand, he could survive being a dwarf for one more day. He would go back to the inn, have an excellent dinner, get a good night's sleep, and then tomorrow, choose a girl to shower with jewelry and break the spell. He'd be back to his own glorious self soon enough, he thought.
He headed down an alleyway between two shops on his way back to the inn, feeling cheerful, his mind on his upcoming victory. By tomorrow night, this would all be over and he'd be back at home where he belonged.
A dark shadow fell over him. He looked up to see two rough-looking men barring his way. One had brown hair, the other red. "Well, well, look what we have here," said the red-haired one. "Looks like you've got quite a treasure there."
Gaston realized with a jolt that they must have followed him from the jewelry store. He cursed himself for not being more vigilant. When buying the jewelry, he had enjoyed showing off, as he always did. Normally, he was so powerful and intimidating that no robber would ever be foolish enough to attack him. But in this small, vulnerable form, he should have been more careful.
Too late now.
"We'll just have that bag now, if you please," said the red-haired robber. "Hand it over."
Gaston lifted his chin defiantly. "Never," he said firmly.
The two robbers laughed. "A feisty one, eh? Fine, then we'll just take it." The red-haired robber reached out for the bag.
Gaston thought fast. As the robber was about to grab the bag, Gaston yanked his hunting knife out of his belt and slashed at his hand, drawing blood. The robber cried out in surprise and pain, holding his injured hand. He glared murderously at Gaston. "I'll kill you for that!" he threatened.
Gaston turned and ran the other way down the alley, but the brown-haired robber was faster. He leaped in front of Gaston, blocking his way, and quickly grabbed his wrist, forcing him to drop the knife. Then he twisted Gaston's arms behind his back. Gaston struggled as hard as he could, but the robber had him in a viselike grip. "I've got him, Luc!" he called. "Get the bag!"
There was nothing Gaston could do as Luc, grinning, snatched the bag of jewelry from him and put it in his jacket. Gaston squirmed, trying to break free, but to no avail. He had never felt so helpless.
Luc came closer, so close Gaston could smell the alcohol on his breath. He held up his injured hand. "I owe you for this, runt," he said menacingly. He drove his other fist into Gaston's stomach, and Gaston doubled over in agony. Luc pummeled Gaston mercilessly, while the other man held him.
It felt to Gaston as though the beating went on forever. He wasn't struggling anymore. Weakened by pain, he hung limp in the robber's unrelenting grip, as the the punishing blows slammed into his unresisting body like sledgehammers.
Then Luc suddenly noticed the knife on the ground. He snatched it up, grinning wickedly. "Not so tough now, are you?" he taunted. He brandished the knife menacingly right in front of Gaston's face. "Time to die, runt."
Gaston's eyes widened in fear. "No," he begged. "Please, don't."
Luc just laughed cruelly. He pressed the point of the knife to Gaston's throat.
"Hey, what's going on over there?" a voice called sharply. Gaston saw a dark figure entering the far end of the alley.
The brown-haired robber immediately shoved Gaston to the ground. "Come on!" he yelled to Luc, and the two robbers took off running in the opposite direction down the alley.
The figure approached slowly. It was an old woman. She gasped when she saw Gaston, crumpled on the ground like an empty sack. "Mon Dieu! Are you all right, sir?" she asked with concern, holding out her hand.
Gaston lifted his head painfully and looked up at her. "I-I think so," he said hesitantly. He took her hand. Shakily, he tried to get up, but his legs buckled beneath him. He had to lean on the old woman's arm to walk down the alley.
He looked in the direction the robbers had run. "They robbed me," he said in disbelief. He had never imagined something like this could ever happen to him. He had always been invincible.
The old woman sighed. "There have been a lot of robberies in town lately," she said. "I don't know what this world is coming to."
She helped him to the constable's station, where he reported the crime, although he doubted it would do any good. Then, slowly and painfully, he limped back to the inn.
On the dresser he saw the broken shards of the mirror from the previous night. Carefully he picked up a large piece to see his reflection. He had a black eye, his lip was swollen and bleeding, and his face was bruised. As if I didn't look bad enough before, he thought with a grimace. He certainly wasn't going to be attracting any girls looking like this.
He collapsed onto the bed, but lay awake for a long time, unable to sleep despite his exhaustion. He was aching from the bruises and lacerations, and his mind kept replaying the harrowing scene in the alley. He realized with a chill that he had come close to being killed. He had always been fearless, knowing nothing could defeat him, but tonight he had been truly scared.
It was horrible to be so vulnerable. He had to break this curse, and soon. He didn't think he could stand another day like this.
And that wasn't his only problem. The robbery had practically wiped out his cash. He was stuck in this weak, defenseless body, with only a few gold pieces left. How would he even manage to survive, let alone get a girl to love him and break the spell? The thought filled him with despair.
He was too tired to come up with any brilliant plan tonight. Overcome with weariness, he closed his eyes.