In the afternoon, Jaques, the baker, with his wife Marie, came to buy some venison for the prince's pies. Now that they had to deliver food to the castle as well, the locals had even more work to do, but they were happy with that.

Belle brewed herbal tea and Marie brought some scones with her. The owners and guests sat down to a small tea party. Gaston knew Belle didn't socialize much with anyone in the village, but maybe a little time with his acquaintances would do her good, right? After all, all women need to chat about their own, feminine things.

"Belle, this is so cozy," Marie complimented their home, looking around the kitchen with a glance. "Did you do that?"

"I... Yes, yes... Thank you," Belle looked a little embarrassed. She cast a quick glance at Gaston, and her expression was guilty.

"Belle is a great housewife, Marie," said Gaston.

Gaston had done everything in the house, even before the wedding. He wanted, as he did with weddings, to make everything perfect, to make Belle like it. He had even gone to a neighboring town to buy furniture, blankets, pillows, a mirror, all those things that women usually took care of. Gaston wasn't sure if Belle liked the way he furnished their home or not. She didn't do or change anything else herself, although back in Toulon she had talked about making little baby cushions... Maybe she might want to do something to make it cozy herself someday... Or maybe not. Belle was not a house wife, and she found it difficult to keep house. Gaston understood that now, and he did not care. The main thing was that Belle should be with him; that was enough for him. He just wished she could be happy in their home, that she could consider it her own. That she had made the house with her own hands so that the house would fit her. That she could feel her hand in the house, her presence.

"How is your old man, Belle?" Jacques asked.

"Oh... Father is well," the girl answered quickly, but the baker kept up.

"When we saw him then, he was really raving like a madman. Gaston, of course, didn't let him be taken away to the asylum, but are you sure he's all right?"

"Maurice is more than all right," Gaston intervened and, just to be sure, slammed his fist on the table so that Marie and Jacques jumped. "It was just a misunderstanding."

"All right, all right," muttered the baker.

"I'll do the dishes," Belle gathered up the cups and took them to the dishwasher basin. The guests watched in amazement as the dishwasher washed the cups and Belle just stood by.

"What is this?" Marie asked.

"This is a dishwashing machine," Gaston proudly declared, as if he had made it himself, and stood up. "Maurice's invention, by the way. It's very useful in the household."

"It looks like sorcery..." Jacques stared mesmerized at the spatulas that were rubbing the cup until it shone.

"You're a sorcerer yourself," Gaston said. He made a vague movement with his hands in the air. "It's me - cha-nics. You have to understand it.

This thing holds on to this thing, which in turn drives this thing. Do you get it?"

"No, but... It seems clearer... You're so clever, Gaston!"

"You bet!" The hunter snapped his fingers. "It's not like kneading dough."

Belle laughed at his joke, and the sound of her laughter was beautiful music. He couldn't help himself and reached out his arms and hugged her tightly and kissed her on both cheeks.

The baker and his wife laughed:

"It's good to be young..."

Belle smiled, her eyes glistened and her cheeks were ruddy.

"Speaking of dough. Belle, could your father make a machine that would knead the dough? That would be very handy."

"My father?" the girl interjected. "I think..."

"Oh, no, Jacques," interposed the hunter. "Not this month. Too many orders. From the neighboring village," he winked at his wife. "If you're very lucky, you'll be able to start next month, but you'll have to ask old Maurice very nicely."

"Oh, Gaston... Belle... You can ask Maurice to make the machine early, can't you? Oh, please!"

Gaston pretended to be thinking hard and said slowly:

"Okay, we'll try... He just hates working with rude people who call him crazy when there are normal people from the neighboring village who really appreciate his talents."

"Oh, my God, he said that? Oh, we never said a word about him, tell them, Marie!

Belle sighed and smiled:

"I'll talk to my father."

"Thank you, Belle!" Marie gave her a hug. "Listen, why don't you come over sometime in the afternoon when the morning rush is over? We'll chat, I'll tell you my specialty recipes."

"Oh... I..." Belle could see that on the one hand she wanted to chat, but on the other hand habit or natural wariness stopped her. 'Yes, I'll come in, of course, thank you. Sometime.'

Sometime, it's never, Belle," Marie nudged her gently in the side and laughed. "Come to us on Tuesday. I've been so lonely since Cecilia, my friend, left with her husband for a neighboring town. We'll gossip. We'll talk about our husbands," she said the last words in a whisper, but both Gaston and Jacques heard it.

"Marie!" The baker was indignant, and Gaston and Belle giggled.

"All right, I'll come on Tuesday," Belle said, and looked at Gaston. He nodded, agreeing that she would go visit.

"Sure, go," the hunter said. "Just don't scold me too much."

Finally, Jacques and Marie left and Gaston sat down in a chair after closing the door. Belle came over to him and sat on his lap, putting her arms around his neck. They began kissing, each of their hands roaming over the other's body.

They both grew bolder, now all the excitement, anxiety, caution was gone, dissolved, and man and girl were boldly exploring each other's bodies.

"Are you sure you want to go to the tavern tonight?" Gaston asked, pulling away from his wife's soft lips for a moment. His hands, which had been hugging Belle's waist, had moved lower, and now he was stroking her thighs. "We'll have to behave."

"Are we behaving inappropriately?" Belle asked, shifting slightly and sitting up, as if she were touching him casually with her delicate fingers. He could feel the weight of her body and the warmth of her thighs against his legs, and it made his heart pound harder and harder. Belle felt her feminine power over him, she could see how the light touch of her lips could drive a big man like him crazy and she loved it. She touched him quite indecently, and Gaston caught her hand and kissed her palm.

"No, Belle, you are being quite indecent," laughed the man.

The girl raised her head slightly to look into his eyes:

"Let's go on a date?"

"A date?"

"Yes. You said we've never been on a date. That needs to be fixed. Let's go out."

"Where do you want to go?" Gaston asked.

Belle was thinking.

"We could go dancing... I've never been to a dance."

The man was thinking too:

"You know, it's too noisy there... You probably wouldn't like it very much. Listen, here's an idea. Let's go to the woods for a picnic. Fresh air, birds singing, just the two of us. There's a beautiful lake in the woods. I'll show it to you."

"That sounds wonderful!" Belle clapped her hands and put her arms around his neck. "Tomorrow I'll make sandwiches and we'll go to the forest in the morning!"

Gaston pulled her delicate body tighter against his and began kissing her neck:

"Let's stay home, come on, please..."

Belle closed her eyes and sighed:

"But... We promised... I don't want you to become a boring homebody like me..."

"You're my adorable little homebody..." Gaston bit her naked shoulder lightly.

The girl straightened up:

"So! You're biting!" She said with mock severity, wagging her finger at him.

He laughed.

She leaned over and whispered in his ear:

"For that I'll give you a foot massage!"

Gaston laughed again, but then realized she wasn't joking.

"No, Belle, stop it! No!"

She laughed and with a sly look, dodged his hands and slid off the chair, grabbing his feet.

"Belle, really, stop it! You're ticklish!"

Eventually, Gaston caught the girl, and carried her to the bed. They didn't go to the tavern.