CHAPTER 6

Four years passed slowly. Gaston continued to travel around France, peddling his wares and saving up as much money as he could. It was a tiresome routine, constantly being on the road in all kinds of weather. But he plugged on steadily, focused on his determination to end the curse and get back the life he was entitled to.

He always varied his route somewhat, always adding towns he had never visited before, in the hope that the girl he sought would be there - the one girl who would love him and break the spell. He attempted to charm all the women he met, but without success. Some turned him down politely, some were rude, but all were put off by his appearance. Still, he kept on trying in each new town.

But he never spent money on the women, although he was often tempted. It wasn't time - not yet. It was increasingly clear to him that, handicapped as he was by his freakish looks, the only way he would win a girl's love with with riches - lots of riches. He would have to dazzle the girl with so much wealth and luxury that she couldn't help but adore him.

It was frustrating to have to bide his time for so long. He was by nature impatient and impulsive, and he was accustomed to getting his own way. It was not his style to wait calmly for years when he wanted something. But he knew that his entire future depended on this plan, and he was determined to succeed, no matter how long it took. So he lived frugally, spending as little as possible and methodically saving every sou, and each night he counted his money, waiting for the day when he would reach his goal.

Finally, after four interminable years, he judged that he had enough gold saved up to impress even a princess. Quietly, he bought a supply of jewelry - but discreetly this time, having learned his lesson. He also bought a wardrobe of expensive clothes for himself, to fit the image of a wealthy man.

On a bright summer day, he rode his horse and wagon into the town of Montpellier. He set up his cart in the marketplace, and scanned the crowd, looking for just the right girl to break the spell.

His eye fell on a gorgeous young lady looking into the window of a hat shop. She had long, thick, wavy red hair, deep green eyes with long fringed lashes, and a curvy figure. She was truly stunning - even more beautiful than Belle. She was definitely up to his high standards.

A young man was looking through the tools on Gaston's wagon. Gaston asked him in a low tone, "Who's that girl?"

The young man followed his gaze. "That's Celeste. She's really something, isn't she?"

"Does she have a beau?" Gaston asked, wanting to size up the competition.

The young man laughed. "Are you kidding? Every man in town is after her! But she's got expensive tastes, that one. It takes a lot to impress her. I tried to court her myself once, but I'm just an apprentice carpenter. When she heard what my income is, she lost interest fast." He shook his head ruefully. "It's going to take someone with big money to win her hand."

Perfect, thought Gaston. This Celeste sounded like exactly what he was looking for.

He closed up the wagon, brought it back to the inn, put on his most expensive outfit, and quickly returned to the center of town. He sauntered up to the redhead, still looking into shop windows. "Pardon me, mademoiselle, but I must say, you are the loveliest woman I have ever seen," he said, trying to be as charming as possible.

Celeste rolled her eyes. She had heard this so many times before. "Merci, monsieur," she said in a bored tone, without looking around.

"And yet," he continued, "I can't help but think you would look even lovelier in a pair of emerald earrings, to match your eyes."

That got her attention. She turned quickly, her eyes widening at the sight of the huge emerald earrings he held out to her. They must have cost a fortune. She looked at him more closely, taking him in. Her initial distaste at his appearance was quickly overcome by the sight of his expensive suit and diamond cufflinks. Now this is more like it, she thought. Enough of these pathetic village boys.

But she hesitated. She didn't want to end up simply as some rich man's mistress. She had her sights set much higher than that. "Monsieur is very generous," she said, in a voice like golden honey. "But it would not be proper for me to accept such an expensive gift from a stranger."

"Forgive me," said Gaston smoothly, pocketing the earrings. Celeste watched them disappear, her eyes filled with longing. "How rude of me not to introduce myself. I am Gaston." He bowed.

She smiled. "Celeste," she said, offering her hand. He kissed it.

"A beautiful name for a beautiful woman. Perhaps you would like to join me for dinner at Chateaux des Feuillants," he suggested casually.

Celeste's eyes widened. In the 18th century, restaurants were new, and reserved exclusively for the aristocracy and the immensely wealthy. She had never imagined she would ever have the chance to dine in one. "Why...yes, monsieur," she managed to say. "That would be lovely."

At the restaurant, Celeste ordered the most expensive items on the menu. Gaston said suavely, "I do believe this is the finest chicken cordon bleu I've ever tasted," mentally congratulating himself on how sophisticated he sounded. In truth, he'd never before eaten anything as fancy as this, and he actually didn't care for it - too fussy, with too many sauces and seasonings, he thought. He was a basic meat-and-potatoes kind of guy. But he would do and say anything to impress this girl.

She asked him about his business, and he told her he was a prosperous merchant - it sounded better than "peddler."

She was intrigued. "So tell me, how did you become so successful?" she asked.

Gaston was delighted by the question. There were few things he liked more than a chance to talk about himself. Celeste seemed enthralled by every detail of his success. As he spoke, she gazed at him intently, agreed with everything he said, and hung on his every word as though he were the most fascinating man alive - everything a woman should do, in his view. Why couldn't Belle have been like that? he wondered. At least Celeste had the right idea.

A few days later, he took her to the opera. It was the single most boring evening of Gaston's life. Even reading a book would be better than this, he thought, waiting impatiently for it to be over. But Celeste was having a grand time - even though, he noticed, she barely glanced at the stage. Her opera glasses were trained on the audience, taking in all the beautiful dresses and fancy furs, and gleefully noting all the prominent personages in attendance. "Look, there's Lord and Lady Beauvais!" she whispered excitedly to Gaston. "And that's Monsieur Laroche - he's the mayor of Montpellier!" Gaston nodded, trying to pretend he cared.

"Thank you so much! I had a wonderful time!" she told him afterward.

"I did too," he replied. "But it was due to your divine company, not the opera." Mentally, he rolled his eyes. Was he laying it on too thick?

But Celeste ate it up. "You're too kind," she said, lowering her eyes demurely.

He held out a wrapped box. "Would you do me the honor of accepting this small gift?" he asked.

She opened the box and squealed with delight. It was the emerald earrings. This time, she decided it was all right to accept them. He had been courting her very respectfully, acting like a perfect gentleman, with no hint of impropriety. "Thank you!" she said happily, slipping them onto her ears. "How do they look?"

"Beautiful," he told her. "But not as beautiful as you," he added gallantly.

A week later, she invited him home to meet her parents. He braced himself for an ordeal. Celeste carried herself like a lady, and her clothes were fashionable and flattering. She even wore gloves in town. Judging from her appearance, her family was upwardly-mobile bourgeoisie. Despite his money, Gaston didn't think they'd appreciate her keeping company with a mere peddler, and a dwarf at that.

So it was a shock to find that she lived in a shabby farmhouse on a small, run-down farm. He had expected her home and family to be as elegant as she.

But he hid his surprise and politely greeted her father, a stocky man in plaid shirt and overalls, and her mother, a fussy woman in a gingham dress. He was relieved that they did not react to his stunted size - apparently Celeste had warned them in advance.

"And this is my brother, Sebastien," Celeste said, gesturing at a 12-year-old boy.

"Pleased to meet you," the boy said, looking bored.

Over lunch, Celeste's parents asked Gaston all about his business, and seemed just as impressed as their daughter had been. One obstacle gone, Gaston thought.

The food was a lot simpler than it had been in the restaurant, which was fine with Gaston. "Did you make this, Celeste?" he asked.

Sebastien snorted. "The princess, slaving over a hot stove? That'll be the day!" Celeste kicked him under the table.

Celeste's mother interjected, "Cooking and cleaning ages a girl so quickly, don't you think? Our Celeste is so delicate, you know."

Gaston was amused at the thought that these meager farmers were raising their spoiled daughter as though she were a duchess. No wonder she thought the local boys weren't good enough for her. But he nodded as though her mother had said something profound. "I completely agree with you," he said. "No wife of mine would ever have to worry about anything as common as cooking or cleaning - she'll have servants to do it for her." He saw Celeste's eyes light up, as did her mother's.

Gaston impulsively decided to make his move. He'd been waiting for four long years to end the curse, and he felt like he couldn't wait one more second. "In fact," he said, "if I may be so bold, I would like to ask for your lovely daughter's hand in marriage."

They all gasped. "Oh, Gaston!" cried Celeste. "I would love to marry you!"

"Of course you have our consent," said her father, while her mother dabbed at tears in her eyes.

Celeste held out her left hand. Gaston looked at it, puzzled.

"Isn't there a ring?" she asked.

"Oh, of course!" said Gaston. "This happened so suddenly...it's back at the inn. I'll give it to you tomorrow."

"That's fine," she said, relieved.

He got up to leave, and she walked him to the door. Gaston thought quickly. "Celeste, will you come out on the porch with me for a moment?"

"Of course," she said. They stepped outside.

He took a deep breath. It was time for the most important moment of his life - the moment when Celeste would say the magic words and finally end the curse.

He felt a surge of wild excitement. After so long, it was finally happening! He would be back to his old self within the next minute! At last he would return to Molyneaux in triumph. And with a bride even more gorgeous than Belle - a wife any man would envy. Celeste's beauty was certainly worthy of the great Gaston.

"Celeste," he said, leaning forward. "I love you."

She hesitated, just a fraction of a second, then smiled brightly. "I love you too." Then she bent and kissed him.

He waited for the earthshaking change, the overpowering sensation of his body reforming itself.

But it didn't happen.

Startled, he drew back from her. He looked at his hands, still small and stubby. He looked up at her - still taller than him. She was watching him with a puzzled expression.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said, stunned. This was supposed to be it - the goal he had been working toward for four endless, intolerable years. Why hadn't it happened?

"I-I'm not feeling very well," he stammered. It was true. He felt sick to find that he was still stuck this way. "I think I need to go lie down."

She looked concerned. "All right. Come see me tomorrow. And bring the ring!" she added.

He nodded, unable to speak, and stumbled away from her, overwhelmed with disappointment and confusion. Why hadn't it worked? It should have worked! He was supposed to be himself again!

He was utterly crushed. He wandered aimlessly around the town for hours, trying to understand what had gone wrong. Had the Enchantress lied? Was there really no way to break the spell?

But no - it had worked for the Beast, he remembered. Belle had declared her love, and he'd turned into a prince, right before Gaston's very eyes. This was the same spell. It had to work for him too. So why hadn't he changed back? He couldn't understand it.

He found himself near the town square, which was surrounded by shops. He heard Celeste's voice, and looked up. She was standing in front of one of the shops, talking excitedly with her friend Marie.

Gaston was about to approach her, but some instinct made him stop. Without quite knowing why, he pressed against the outer wall of a shop where she couldn't see him, and listened.

"Well, congratulations - I guess," said Marie doubtfully. "But honestly, Celeste - how can you love a horrid little gnome like that?" She shuddered in disgust.

Gaston waited for Celeste to defend him. But she just smiled. "Who said anything about loving him?" she pointed out. "I just said I was going to marry him."

"But he's so ugly!" said Marie. "How can you even kiss him?"

Celeste laughed merrily, a musical sound. "He is gruesome, isn't he?" she giggled. "But who cares? I just close my eyes and think of all the lovely jewels and dresses he's going to buy me!"

She twirled with excitement. "Isn't it wonderful? I was always afraid I'd be stuck marrying some dumb farmboy. Imagine me, getting up at 5 a.m. to feed the chickens and peel potatoes?" She smiled triumphantly. "Not me! No - I'm going to have a big house, and servants, and nothing to do all day but go visiting and shopping. It's just what I've always wanted. And besides," she added happily, "Gaston is a peddler. He'll be gone for months at a time! So I won't even have to spend that much time with him."

"Good point!" Marie agreed.

Gatson moved away, his blood boiling. How dare she talk about him like that, after all he had done for her! The ungrateful minx! And to think he had asked her to marry him! She certainly didn't deserve him, no matter how pretty she was.

But at least now he understood why she hadn't broken the spell. Only a girl who loved him could do that, and Celeste clearly didn't.

He stormed back to the inn and started packing. Then he came across the diamond ring he had planned to give her. It was huge and ostentatious, and glittered in the light.

He thought for a long time about what exactly to do about Celeste. He wanted to just leave her flat without so much as a word. But he HAD asked her to marry him in front of her family. He wondered if legally he might owe her something for reneging on the proposal.

Finally he just wrapped up the ring and sent it to her by messenger. He included a note telling her simply that the wedding was off, but she could keep the ring. That was all she had really wanted, anyway, he thought. Then he left town.

He drove the horse and wagon all night and well into the following day, his mood dark and grim. He wanted to get as far away from Montpellier and Celeste as possible. By late afternoon, he had travelled over 30 miles, and Henri was exhausted. Gaston knew he would have to stop. He entered the village of Manosque, stabled and fed the horse, then headed for the nearest tavern, determined to get as drunk as possible.

He sat in the darkest corner of the pub, downing shots of brandy and feeling more desperate and miserable by the minute. He had spent four long years focused on this plan - the plan he had been certain would break the spell. It had gone exactly as he had envisioned: he had dazzled Celeste with his wealth, and she had agreed to marry him. She had even said the words "I love you."

But it wasn't enough.

The Enchantress had said that only true love would break the spell. That was his big mistake, he saw now. Apparently, getting a girl to marry him for his money was not the same as love. There was no point trying the same plan with another girl - the result would be the same, he knew. Using his money to buy love simply wouldn't work.

He certainly couldn't use his looks or strength to attract a girl anymore. What else was there?

With a sinking feeling, he realized the awful truth: he would never change back unless a girl actually loved him. Not his looks, or his strength, or his money, but truly loved him for himself. Which was impossible. What girl could ever love a puny, ugly little freak?

His mind raced, like a trapped animal seeking escape. There had to be a way out, a loophole, some cunning plan that could end the curse. But he was out of ideas. The spell was airtight - only true love could free him. And that was the one thing he could never attain, not looking the way he did. He had always been adept at manipulating people and getting them to do what he wanted. But forcing someone to feel a certain way? He couldn't do that. No plot or scheme could save him now.

He wasn't going to win. Not this time.

The realization shook him to the core. He had always firmly believed that he was special, better than other people, and therefore entitled to have anything he wanted. His parents had doted on him, the villagers had idolized him, and as far as he could see, the world revolved around him. Even when the Enchantress had cursed him, he had been confident that it was just a temporary setback - in the end, he was sure to triumph. Gaston always won, after all. That was just the way the world worked.

But now he had to face the devastating knowledge that he had been fooling himself. The world didn't care at all what happened to him. He was not guaranteed a happy ending.

He had lost. He couldn't fight magic. And this one loss had cost him everything he cared about. He was small and weak and pathetic, an object of ridicule - and he knew, with a growing despair, that he would be trapped in this form for the rest of his life.