CHAPTER 14
It was a sleepy Sunday afternoon in Molyneaux. Church was over for the day. The women stood around gossipping, while the men sat on the porch outside the general store, enjoying the pleasantly cool, sunny late October weather.
"How was your hunting trip yesterday, Francois?" asked Claude. "Get anything?"
"Couple of rabbits, that was it," Francois replied with a shrug. "I almost got an elk, though. Big one, too - must have weighed close to 800 pounds. But I missed." He sighed in frustration. "He was just too far away - I couldn't make the shot."
LeFou said what they were all thinking. "Gaston would have gotten it." They all nodded reverently. In the five years since his mysterious disappearance, Gaston had become something of a local legend, an almost mythical, Paul Bunyanesque figure.
LeFou was holding his 4-year-old son, Denis, on his lap. Hearing the name Gaston mentioned, the little boy looked up. "Papa, tell me the story about Gaston!" It was his favorite story.
LeFou smiled. "All right." The other men leaned forward to listen as well.
"Gaston was the biggest, strongest man you could ever imagine," LeFou began. "You never saw anyone like him. He could do anything - shoot an arrow straight and true, hit any target with his gun, outwrestle any man, ride any wild horse. He was the greatest hunter in the whole world. That wall of trophies in the tavern - those were all Gaston's. He never missed. He was the handsomest man in town too - all the girls wanted to marry him. And he was brave. He wasn't afraid of anything. Gaston was a real hero." He was silent a moment, remembering. He still missed Gaston.
The boy bounced up and down excitedly. "Now tell about the Beast!"
"I'm getting to that!" said LeFou. "Okay. In the forest, there's a big castle. The prince and princess live there now. But back then, it was empty - well, almost empty. No person lived there...but a monster did, a big, ferocious Beast. No one knows how he got there. Some people think he found the castle empty while the prince was away, and moved in. Others think the Beast was the reason the prince left - that he went on a quest to find some magical way to get rid of the Beast. Whatever the reason, the Beast was there. But we didn't know about it. Not until Belle disappeared."
"The princess!" said the boy eagerly.
"Yes, the princess," agreed LeFou. "But she wasn't a princess then. She was just a girl from the village. Her father came running into the tavern one night and told us that a Beast had locked Belle in a dungeon. But we didn't believe him. It was such a crazy story, we thought he was just imagining things.
"Belle was gone almost the whole winter," LeFou went on. He couldn't help shivering when he remembered that awful winter. He'd spent a good chunk of it freezing outside Belle's house waiting for her to come back, so Gaston could have Maurice committed to the insane asylum and blackmail Belle into marrying him. But LeFou always left out that part of the story.
"Then one day, Belle escaped from the Beast and came back to the village," LeFou continued. "She had a magic mirror, and she used it to show us the Beast. It was huge - about 10 feet tall, covered in fur, and really ugly, with a loud roar and deadly fangs and sharp claws."
"Were you scared, Papa?" asked the child.
"Well...just a little bit," LeFou admitted. "All of us were. But not Gaston. He wasn't afraid of anything. He told us we had to go to the castle and kill the monster, so our village would be safe. He led the way, and we followed him.
"It was a dark and rainy night as we made our way to the castle," he continued. "When we got inside, the place seemed empty at first. But then, the Beast used magic to make all the objects attack us! Candles blew flame at us, sharp knives threw themselves at us, teacups poured boiling water on us. We had to run for our lives! But not Gaston. He'd come for the Beast, and he wasn't leaving without him."
"Wow," said the boy, scarcely breathing. "Did Gaston kill the Beast?"
"No," said LeFou. "At least, not then. He fought the monster, and he won - well, of course he did, he was Gaston. But then he had an idea. Instead of killing it, he decided to capture it. He thought it would make our village famous, and that people would come from miles around to see it.
"So he came back to the village that night, and he had the Beast with him on a cart. It was unconscious, but still scary for all that. He kept it in a cage in his basement. He thought he could tame it in time, make it obey his commands. He was like that, Gaston. Always confident."
LeFou leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. "But three days later, he disappeared. Pierre went to his house to look for him. The cage was open. The Beast was gone, and so was Gaston. Neither of them was ever seen again."
"What happened to them?" asked the boy.
LeFou sighed. "No one knows," he said. "It's a mystery. We think the Beast must have escaped, and Gaston went after it, and they probably fought to the death and killed each other. But we never found out for sure. Soon after that, the prince returned to the castle, and married Belle, and that was it. But we never forgot Gaston."
"He was one of a kind, all right," said Claude, and the other men nodded. The women nearby sighed dreamily, remembering the unbelievably handsome man they'd so often swooned over. There was a moment of silence.
Then Bambi looked up. "Oh, look!" she said with anticipation. "A peddler's wagon!" Sure enough, a large, horse-drawn wagon was coming up the path that led to the marketplace.
All the villagers came forward eagerly. Peddlers did not often visit the tiny village, and when one did, it was a welcome novelty.
LeFou was the first to notice the driver. His face went as pale as if he had seen a ghost. "It's Gaston!" he cried. All the villagers gasped in shock.
For several minutes, the town square was eerily silent, everyone staring open-mouthed at the apparition. Then the entire population of the little village rushed noisily forward and surrounded the wagon with cheers and excited shouts of "Gaston! Gaston!
Gaston grinned, pleased at the commotion. He loved to make a big entrance.
"Hello, everyone," he said, as casually as if he had only been gone a day or two. "What'd I miss?"
"Where WERE you?" cried LeFou. "And what's all this stuff?" he added, pointing at the wagon full of all kinds of wares.
"Presents for everyone!" Gaston proclaimed grandly, waving his arm over the wagon. His days as a peddler were over anyway; he might as well give all the merchandise away in a kingly show of generosity that would be talked about for years. He jumped down and began handing out gifts to the townspeople as though he were Santa Claus: pipes, tobacco, tools, and silk handkerchiefs for the men; sunbonnets, bracelets, necklaces, and bottles of perfume for the women; toys for the children. The people eagerly took the presents and chattered excitedly to each other.
Gaston handed LeFou a silver pocket watch, similar to the one he'd given the farmer years earlier. "Thanks," said LeFou, still trying to get over the shock. "I just can't believe it's really you, after all this time! We all thought you were dead."
"You should have known I couldn't be defeated that easily," Gaston admonished.
"But what about the Beast? Did you kill him?" LeFou asked.
Hmm. Apparently they didn't know the prince's secret. Gaston hesitated, wondering what he should say. "The Beast is gone," he said slowly. Then, in a burst of inspiration, he added, "The prince got rid of him." It was true enough, in its own way. The villagers looked relieved to hear it.
"I'm just so glad you're back!" said LeFou. "The town hasn't been the same without you."
"Well, of course not. How could it be?" said Gaston. He grinned at LeFou. "I missed you too."
"Really?" LeFou was thrilled to hear it.
Gaston nodded. "So, what's been happening? What was the big news in town while I was gone? Aside from me being gone," he added.
"Well..." LeFou suddenly looked nervous. "Belle got married." He braced himself for a thunderous outburst.
But Gaston just shrugged. "I know," was all he said. "What else?"
LeFou was surprised at the lack of reaction. But he continued, trying to think of things that would be relevant to Gaston. "Uh...Tristan's gotten really hard to handle, even worse than before. I've been taking care of him, but he bites and kicks a lot, and won't let anyone touch him. I don't know if you'll be able to ride him again."
"I'll ride him," Gaston said dismissively. He had broken the horse once; he knew he could do it again.
"And, your house is gonna need repairs," LeFou continued. "The roof is leaking, and some of the windows are broken, and it's gotta be really dusty by now. No one has gone near it for five years."
"Why not?" asked Gaston, puzzled.
LeFou looked embarrassed. "Well...we were afraid it might be haunted. Since you disappeared so mysteriously, and we thought you were dead and all."
Gaston shook his head in amusement. He'd forgotten how small-minded and superstitious the villagers could be. "I'll fix it up," he said. "How about you? How have you been?"
LeFou beamed. "I got married!" he burst out happily. He waved over a young, dark-haired woman, who walked over to LeFou, smiling and holding the little boy's hand. "This is Amelie - my wife," LeFou said, putting his arm around her.
"That's great," said Gaston. Looking at the happy couple, he felt a pang. Genevieve should have been here beside him, sharing in his triumphant return. But he pushed the thought away and said, "Congratulations." He only vaguely recognized LeFou's wife from his earlier life in the village: she was nice-looking, but not beautiful enough to have caught his eye back then, and she was shy and gentle, not one of the bold girls who used to follow Gaston around, flirting shamelessly.
"And this is my son, Denis," said LeFou proudly, patting his boy's head.
"Glad to meet you," said Gaston. He reached into the wagon and handed the boy a toy bow and arrow. "Think you can use this?"
"Wow, thanks!" said the little boy, looking up at him with awe.
"So where were you all this time?" asked LeFou.
"It's a long story," said Gaston. "But if you want to hear it..."
The townspeople all nodded with excitement. The tavern was immediately opened up for business - not normal for a Sunday, it being the Lord's day, but on such a special occasion, no one complained. They all piled inside, all the men vying to be the first to buy the returning hero a drink.
Gaston settled into his old chair, covered with fur and hide. LeFou raced up to him, carrying two mugs of beer. But as he reached the chair, he tripped and went sprawling onto the floor. The mugs flew out of his hand, the beer splashing onto Gaston's shirt.
Gaston immediately stood up, rising to his full imposing height. LeFou instinctively cringed, expecting a blow. But Gaston just picked the little man up and set him on his feet. "Are you all right?" he asked.
"Uh...yeah," said LeFou, stunned. That wasn't like Gaston at all.
"Good," said Gaston. He dabbed at his shirt with a handkerchief, and sat down again. "Now then. You asked where I've been for five years..." He paused dramatically to let the suspense build.
The villagers gathered around eagerly to listen. They had missed hearing Gaston tell of his exploits. He had always been a great storyteller - as long as the stories were about him.
"An Enchantress cast a terrible magic spell on me," Gaston proclaimed. "She turned me into a tiny dwarf. I had to go on a long and dangerous quest to break the spell."
The townspeople looked at each other with dawning realization, followed by guilty expressions. "The dwarf that came in here that night - that was you?" gasped Francois. He remembered uneasily that he had punched the dwarf clear across the room. He gulped, wondering what Gaston would do to him.
"Yes, that was me," said Gaston calmly, enjoying their consternation. He didn't feel the need for violent revenge anymore - but he wasn't above making them feel guilty for treating him so badly.
Bambi, Bunny and Bubbles looked at each other in horror. "Gaston asked us to kiss him - and we turned him down!" wailed Bunny.
LeFou looked sick with remorse. "Gosh, Gaston - we didn't know!" he said worriedly. "We're all really sorry, aren't we, guys?" They all nodded apologetically.
Gaston waved a hand magnanimously, although at the time, he'd been ready to kill them all for their insolence. "It's all right. It doesn't matter now." They looked relieved.
"So where did you go?" LeFou asked. Everyone leaned forward to listen with rapt attention.
Gaston easily spun his hellish five years as a dwarf into a grand adventure. In his version, it was an exciting tale of a hero who, robbed of his legendary strength, relied only on his bravery and his wits to triumph over insurmountable odds and life-threatening peril. It was just a matter of leaving out certain facts and embellishing others. He told them how, nearly penniless, he'd turned his last few coins into a wildly successful peddling business, earning riches beyond imagination. He told them of dazzling and winning the incomparably beautiful Celeste, only to leave her sobbing and heartbroken when it was time for him to move on. He told of outwitting the thuggish, gorilla-like Etienne and sending the brute splashing ignominiously into the lake. The villagers hung on his every word, their eyes round as saucers.
He didn't mention Genevieve at all.
Then Francois asked the question. "How did you finally break the spell?"
Gaston hesitated. He wasn't willing to share something so personal. "There was only one person in all of France who could break it," he said finally. "I had to search for years to find her."
"A magical person?" asked Claude.
"Yes," said Gaston. She was to me, he thought"Eventually I found her, and she changed me back." He left it at that. The villagers were surprised that he didn't elaborate, but assumed he meant another enchantress or sorceress.
The story finished, Gaston bought rounds of drinks for everyone in town. A dozen girls flocked around him as he sat on the fur-and-hide-covered chair. Most of his original admirers were married now, and watched him longingly, sighing with regret as they stood beside their husbands. But their younger sisters were more than willing to take their place. Five years ago, these young maidens had had schoolgirl crushes on him, watching him from afar with dreamy sighs. Now they were age 18 to 21, marriageable young women, and thrilled that the town's most eligible bachelor had returned so unexpectedly. Gaston was 26 now, even more gorgeous than they remembered, and best of all, still single and available.
"We all missed you so much," cooed a beautiful blonde whose name Gaston couldn't recall, leaning over his shoulder.
"No one in town is as handsome as you, Gaston," purred a lovely girl with long auburn hair, sitting on the floor in front of the chair and looking up adoringly at him.
Gaston tried to enjoy all the female attention, as he had in the past. But he couldn't ignore the uncomfortable awareness that all these swooning girls ready to proclaim undying love for him now wouldn't even want to talk to him if he were still a dwarf. He had been the exact same person then, but girls like this had sneered at him and found him repulsive.
They were in love with his handsome appearance, he knew - not with him. Before the curse, that hadn't been a problem: after all, back then no one had worshipped Gaston for his looks more than Gaston himself. But now, their superficial adoration wasn't enough to satisfy him.
He didn't want to think about Genevieve. But surrounded by simpering fans, he couldn't help remembering how different she had been - her genuine warmth and caring versus their shallow flattery; the way she truly listened to his words and considered them seriously instead of automatically agreeing eagerly with whatever he said; the close connection he had felt with her.
At that moment, he missed her with a longing so fierce it was like physical pain. Everyone in the village idolized and admired him...but it suddenly occurred to him that Genevieve was the only person he'd ever met who had genuinely liked him. Liked the person he was inside, regardless of what he looked like or how much weight he could lift.
As though reading his mind, one of the girls called out, "Gaston, lift some weights for us! Let's see those muscles!" The other villagers eagerly cheered him on, delighted at the chance to witness one of his legendary shows of strength.
"Of course," said Gaston immediately, pushing the uneasy thoughts away. "It must have been very dull around here without my amazing feats to watch!" He jumped up and grabbed the leg of a bench where several girls were sitting, easily hoisting bench and girls up in the air with one hand. The girls squealed in delight, and the villagers exclaimed in admiration.
Gaston spent the rest of the day showing off, basking in the attention, and trying to ignore the emptiness he felt inside.
o o o o o o o o
Genevieve sat by the lake, holding a fishing pole. It was the kind of perfect, sunny day that seemed made for fishing. Normally she'd be having a lovely, relaxing time, enjoying the quiet and the gentle breezes. But today, it wasn't the same.
She couldn't help remembering the last time she'd been fishing. Gaston had been with her then. It had been a wonderful day. They had sat there so companionably, talking for hours. He had caught four fish, and she had caught three. And of course, he had bragged about what a great fisherman he was, and told her stories of all the big ones he'd caught in the past.
She smiled at the memory. She had found his constant bragging to be endearing back then - just one of the little quirks that made him who he was. She had enjoyed all his colorful stories, and was amused at his shameless exaggerations. And she had been flattered to see that he obviously wanted so much to impress her.
But of course, he had needed to impress her, so she would break the spell, she thought, her smile fading. She sighed. It was still so painful to face the cold hard fact that he had been merely putting on an act all along. The closeness she'd felt to him, his obvious pleasure in her company, the way he had looked at her when he proposed...how could it all be fake? But he had tried to woo hundreds of other girls over the years, she reminded herself sadly. Apparently, he'd had time to perfect his technique.
She wanted to hate him for what he'd done. But it was hard, when she missed him so much. In a way, she supposed she should be grateful to him. Whatever his motives had been, he had given her the happiest month of her entire life. And she had found out what it felt like to be in love. She doubted she would ever feel that way about anyone again. For a little while, she had been allowed to experience the wonderful feeling of being loved and cherished, even if it wasn't real.
Her eyes suddenly filled with tears. She brushed them away, trying to be strong. It will get better, she told herself. She had survived other painful experiences in her life, and she would survive this too. The pain would fade in time. It wouldn't disappear, but it would become bearable. At least, she hoped it would.
The fish weren't biting today, and she was having a miserable time, so she decided to pack it up. Heading for home, she saw a figure walking toward her. She groaned. It was Etienne. Great, she thought. The perfect end to a perfect day.
He came up to her. She braced herself for his latest obnoxious comment. But to her surprise, he looked hesitant. She waited, wondering what was up.
Finally he blurted, "I'm sorry I was mean to you!" The words came out in a rush.
Genevieve was speechless. "Um...okay," she finally said.
Etienne let out a breath. "All right, I said it," he said, clearly relieved to have that over with. "You make sure to tell your friend that."
"What friend?" Genevieve asked, bewildered.
Etienne shuddered. "That big guy with the black hair. You tell him I said I was sorry, and I'm not bothering you anymore. I don't want any trouble." Without another word, he loped off.
Genevieve stood there, stunned. Had Gaston threatened Etienne - forced him to apologize and to stop bothering her? He must have. But why? His spell had already been broken; he had nothing more to gain by impressing her now.
Her heart quickened with a flash of hope. But she told herself firmly not to jump to conclusions. It didn't mean he loved her, after all. It was probably just a gesture of gratitude - his way of saying "Thank you" for ending his curse.
But even if that was all it was...still, it was nice of him, she had to admit. He couldn't be the totally selfish, cold-hearted scoundrel she had thought he was, if he was doing her a favor without getting anything back. And he must have liked her a little bit, surely, to want to do something for her?
She thought back to the time Gaston had confronted Etienne while still a dwarf. Lately she had assumed he had just been trying to impress her, so she would fall in love with him and break the spell. But as she turned it over in her mind, she realized that regardless of his motive, the fact remained that he had put himself in very real danger, just to defend her honor. He had been only a tiny, frail dwarf, and Etienne was a big, powerful, violent thug. Gaston could have been seriously injured or even killed. Yet he'd done it - for her. That certainly wasn't the act of a villain. Far from it.
She walked home slowly, trying to put the pieces together. She remembered how upset Gaston had looked when she told him she wouldn't marry him. At the time, she had been too hurt and distraught herself to consider the implications of that. But now, it suddenly occurred to her that if he really didn't care at all about her...if he thought she wasn't good enough for him, and had offered to marry her solely out of a sense of obligation...then he should have been relieved at her refusal, shouldn't he? She was letting him off the hook, after all - releasing him of all obligation to her. He was now free to abandon her without guilt, and enjoy all the luscious beauties who would throw themselves at him.
But he hadn't looked relieved, she remembered. He'd looked devastated. He had pounded on her door for 20 minutes straight, calling her name, refusing to leave until she finally opened the door and told him in no uncertain terms that it was over.
She was suddenly overcome with doubt. Could she have misjudged him? But if so, why had he said such hurtful things to her - telling her of all the women he had wooed; admitting that he had targeted her deliberately because he thought she was ugly and desperate; bragging that with his handsome looks, he would now have countless beautiful girls swooning over him? He had sounded like an unfeeling cad, with no consideration toward her at all.
Still...his actions didn't match up with his words. Something just didn't add up.
All at once she knew that she had to talk to him, right now. She needed to know the truth once and for all.
She turned and hurried to the inn where he had been staying. But when she got there, her heart sank. The peddler wagon that had been parked next to the inn for the past month was gone.
Hesitantly she knocked on the door. The innkeeper opened it.
"Excuse me," she said, a bit uncertainly. "I was just wondering if...if a certain man was staying here? A big man, about 6 foot 4, with black hair?"
The innkeeper shook his head. "Nope. Haven't seen anyone like that."
"Oh," she said, deflated. "Then...what about that peddler who was staying here? Is he still around?"
"The dwarf?" he said. "No, he cleared out a couple of days ago. He must have left late at night, though - I didn't see him go. I got up in the morning and all his stuff was gone, along with the wagon. Happens that way with peddlers sometimes; they have a long way to travel and want to get an early start. His room was paid up till the end of the month, so it didn't matter to me either way."
"Oh. Thank you," said Genevieve quietly, and walked slowly home.
With a cold, leaden feeling, she understood that she was never going to see him again. He had gone, and she had no way of ever contacting him. She didn't even know where he was. He had mentioned once that the village he'd grown up in was a long distance from Reillanne, but she had no idea where it was located. France was a big country, dotted with hundreds of these tiny, obscure villages.
She would never have the chance to talk to him, or to learn the truth of how he'd really felt about her. He was gone forever.
And she would spend the rest of her life haunted by the possibility that she had made a terrible mistake.