Chapter 1: Commencer

As it began, there was a handsome man named Jean. He had dark hair and bottle green eyes, and he had about him the smell of wood chips and shavings. One day, the time came for him to find a wife.

Though he searched, there was only one woman who could ever be the man's wife. She was a beautiful lady named Violette who had honey colored hair and indigo eyes. Other than her beauty, everything about her was a contrast with him. From the pomade in her hair to the russet colored silk of her gown, it was obvious to all who could see that this man and this woman would not be allowed to be together as they were.

Therefore, they changed. The man became a merchant, and made more money. He wore a stitched blouse and velvet trousers now to visit her instead of the simple britches and shirt he had worn before. The lady's scent, instead of one of exotic flowers, became more and more one of baked pastries and breads. She put her hair into simple rolls instead of towering structures, and she no longer paid attention to the advances from other men.

So it was that, whether or not it was to be permitted, the man and the lady were married. Though the marriage was not a grand affair, it did not matter, for never had there been two people more in love. They were content in every way to live simple lives in a cottage in a small village.

It was to this man and woman that a daughter was eventually born. She was like a daughter of the sun, with light hair and bright blue eyes like her that of her mother. Her parents named her Colette, and as the first child, Colette was adored and coddled to the point of being spoilt. So, despite her beautiful appearance, tiny Colette already proved to have a slightly sour attitude and a quick temper.

Not long afterwards, a second child, Sophie, was born. Sophie had jet-black hair and dark green eyes like her father's, and though she was as beautiful as her sister, her parents learned their lesson and as a result she had a shyer, sweeter disposition.

After having these two children, Jean and Violette felt that their small family had reached a very comfortable size. Therefore, it was to their surprise as much as anybody else's when they discovered a third child was to be born.

The third child, however, did not come so smoothly as the rest. It was hard for the lady to bear her- so hard, in fact, that as one life came into the world, another left it.

Thus, Jean had a third daughter, but no wife. It was one of the more cruel ironies that life held for him, and it was a long time before he could subdue his tears and shaking enough to hold his new daughter.

When he finally took her into his arms, it was evident that this child looked very different than her two eldest sisters. Unlike either of them, she had light brown hair, not unlike that of Jean's mother, and, when she opened her eyes, they were blue-green, a mixture of both her mother and fathers' eyes. Though it seemed she would not be as beautiful as her sisters, the man already loved her dearly for being the last thing his precious wife had set eyes on, and he decided a good name for her would be Belle.

This name proved to hold true, at least to Jean, because under his constant care and attention she flourished into a lovely young girl. She did not suffer a lack of feminine grace thanks to the influence of the very feminine Colette, but (and perhaps it was because of Sophie's quiet and placid nature) Belle was never able to learn some of the more valued traits such as holding one's tongue.

Even though his wife had passed away and the man was left to care for his three daughters alone, Jean was still a merchant. His original job before meeting Violette, that of a woodcutter, would not suffice to keep his family fed.

When his daughters were young, he would get his neighbor, Aurelie, to watch over them. Aurelie herself was a young woman with ash blond hair and hazel eyes, who was both unmarried and of marrying age. He knew that, out of courtesy and to spare them both talk of indecency, he should marry her. However, when the thought of marrying someone other than his beloved Violette crossed his mind, he knew that he could never do it.

While Jean was away on his business, as though to make up for not being with them as much as he should have, he asked each daughter what she would like. He did this in a secretive sort of way- he would pull each daughter aside and they would speak in serious, hushed tones. People like Aurelie, who did not know what was going on the first time she saw this, were rather disturbed by the uncanny seriousness in the young girls' eyes. After Jean had spoken with each one of them, Aurelie herself pulled Jean aside.

"Good sir," she said quietly, "with all due respect to you and the young Mademoiselles, what is it that you say to them that could make such children so serious? It is not natural." She looked up at Jean, awaiting an answer with both eagerness and apprehension. He simply chuckled, and the worry lines that had recently settled into his face disappeared.

"Do not worry, my dear." he laughed, "You will find some day, when you have children of your own, that children are naturally very serious, and it is by thinking otherwise that we insult them."

Aurelie did not understand, as at that moment Sophie and Belle had dispensed into tears because Colette had broken the head off of their favorite poupée. She bustled over to try to calm the girls down, and Jean smiled secretively as he slipped out the door.

When he came home, he had three gifts- a new poupée for Colette, a silk ribbon for Sophie, and a vibrant orchid for Belle.

That is how it was every time he left for one of his trips- only, as the girls got older, their requests became harder. Jean came to enjoy their requests. All three were challenges, but Belle's were always the hardest. Foreign cloth, jewels, and mirrors could easily be acquired from the proper merchant. But Belle always asked for a flower. This was not only because she had no interest in the materials that Sophie and Colette did, but also because she was fascinated to hear the tales as to how her father had gotten each gift.

Sophie and Colette, too, were interested in how their father had obtained some of the strange and magnificent flowers he had brought home. In the beginning, Colette had made a big show of jealousy about how acquiring Belle's flowers got more of an effort than her gifts and Sophie's did, but Jean had a very quiet talk with her so that Belle and Sophie couldn't hear it, and she was silent once more.

That is the history that lead up to one year, when the girls were very nearly grown, in which Belle asked her father, in the middle of the winter, to give her a single rose.

Jean, as usual, had not had much trouble knowing at once where to get Colette and Sophie's gifts of jewels and pearls, but he could tell that the wish for a rose would be the hardest task he had been given yet. However, he was certain that he could, and was undaunted. So he kissed each daughter goodbye and rode away.

It was not long before he had sold his wares, and he was quick to get the presents for his eldest daughters- but the rose alluded him. It was winter yet- frost covered everything. At the first home that had allowed him a place to eat and sleep, he made brief mention of it, before realizing how absurd it would sound to those who did not understand his daughter's requests.

"Madame," he had said to the lady of the house, a round woman with a nose reminiscent of a tomato, "Would you know where I could find a rose?"

She smiled at the man, who had obviously been handsome in his youth.

"Surely, you mean in the spring? For I know of the loveliest garden that bears the first blooms-"

"No, no," he interrupted, "I need it before the winter has ended."

"Surely you jest?"

When she realized the true seriousness in this man's request, it seemed as though her shouts of laughter followed him out of the cottage.

Jean was careful through the rest of his travels to only mention the rose in passing. He was, of course, unsuccessful, and thoroughly exhausted besides. He considered waiting until the spring, but knew that that would be thoughtless. Aurelie had recently been married and moved into her husband's home far away, and the girls were old enough that they were home alone. In spite of this, or because of it, Jean was worried for them.

So with a heavy heart he began the journey home, without a gift for Belle.

By chance, a snow storm began to blow one bitterly cold day, forcing his horse to stumble blindly along. Jean had to lead him, though he was barely able to see his own two hands, let alone the path. Hours and days blurred together in this long storm, and they barely managed to trip forward.

Just as suddenly as it had begun, it ended. They found themselves stranded somewhere significantly darker and heavily wooded than the path they had been on. They pressed on, and it soon got so dark that it felt as though the black was pressing against his eyeballs. He continued only because he knew it would be impossible to find his way back, and he ignored the protests of his horse.

Soon, lights began to flicker far ahead of them. Jean was sure that it was his imagination, until he reached the first light, which was undoubtedly real. He found that it came from a series of small candles that were embedded into the trees around them. There were several more trees with candles that formed an eerie path. Barely thinking of the strangeness of it all, as he was cold and tired, he followed the path without question. He came unexpectedly to a wrought iron gate. He peeked into what lay past it, and gasped when he looked through.

Lit by light that seemed to have no source was a garden unlike any that he had ever seen. On the right side it looked like any other garden in France during the winter- frozen and bare, covered only in snow. The left side was an entirely different matter. Every flower that Jean had seen or heard of, and some that he hadn't, were blooming forth as fine and lovely as they would on a summer afternoon (even if they weren't summer flowers, they were there). There were honeysuckles and tiger lilies alike, but it was one bush that caught Jean's eye. There, right within his reach, was a rose bush, clustered with huge red roses.

Slowly and hesitantly, Jean looped his arm through the bars and plucked the largest rose that he could see for his Belle. He withdrew and tucked it carefully into his pack, making sure not to crush it. He had just clambered back onto his horse and began to ride back the way he came when, from behind a snow mound, a large brown lion sprung forth, growling fiercely.

Jean's horse went galloping away, bucking his rider off and leaving him helpless on the ground. He cowered before the lion, hoping only for a quick and painless death. But it did not come.

His eyes, which had been squeezed together, opened slowly to see the lion surveying him interestedly. Jean sat staring back at the lion, frightened to even breathe, lest he provoke an attack. The lion finally opened his mouth and, instead of a roar, words came out.

"Tell me the truth," he growled in a gravelly, slightly accented voice, "and you may live. Was it you who has stolen the rose from the garden of my sisters and brothers?"

Jean stared at the lion in horror. He was sure that he must be deathly ill, or at least dreaming. He clutched for the cross that lay dangling at his breast and whispered a prayer.

"Well?" asked the lion, sounding cross and not a little annoyed.

"I-I did not kn-know that it belonged to you- o-or your brothers and sisters." He stuttered, as the lion bared its huge teeth.

"That is no concern of mine." he grunted, "regardless of whose garden you thought it was, you have stolen from me, and the debt must be repaid. However," he continued, "because you have spoken truly, you need not be the one who pays it. Instead, you may give to me whatever meets you first when you reach your home."

Jean said nothing. It would have been a simple request, but that his daughter Belle always came to greet him when he arrived home.

Knowing that the lion was waiting impatiently for his answer, he said only,

"Fine."

The lion nodded. "It is agreed. You may keep the flower for your daughter, and in a month's time you shall send whoever or whatever greets you first. Meanwhile, I shall make sure the journey home for you is an easy one."

The lion disappeared before he could question it further. Shakily, Jean began his journey home on foot. He was deadly afraid that Belle would be the one to greet him.

"Surely she won't be the first." he comforted himself, "Surely a cat, or Maurice will be quicker. There is no need to worry."

In spite of this, he was rightly worried. Maurice was their old dog who had arthritic knees, and very few of the cats wandered out during winter. He put this out of his mind, for the time being.