When he entered the house, his wife was sitting in the chair in front of the fireplace, her legs tucked up, staring thoughtfully at the fire. He must make sure she didn't go to the market today and find out that that damned prince wanted to take her for himself.
"Belle, darling! Launder this, please.
Gaston dumped a pile of clothes of varying degrees of soiling in front of his wife.
"I'll go shoot a couple of ducks for dinner."
Belle watched in disbelief as he wiped his boots with a rag and put on a clean shirt before packing for the hunt.
"Cleaning your boots to go into the woods?"
"You can't stand dirty shoes. Will be less muddy when I get back."
He stood up and Belle came closer, peering into his face.
"You're not ill?" she touched his cheek.
"No. I'll be back soon, don't worry."
"You're not going to the castle," the girl frowned.
Gaston did his best to make his face appear serene:
"No, I promised."
Gaston left the hunting lodge and walked towards the forest.
When he entered the forest, it looked strange, as if it had parted and now there was a wide path leading to the castle. Gaston walked quickly along it, looking around for wolves in these parts. But this time there were none, and the man came closer and closer to the castle.
He threw a bow and arrow and a knife into the bushes, it would be foolish to go there with weapons.
The castle was huge, Gaston looked up at the flags on the spires, the white walls and the stone angels at the top. The multicolored panes on the narrow windows glittered in the evening sunlight.
The hunter walked through the territory of the castle, the bushes there had various shapes, were trimmed like some incomprehensible figures, and a fanciful fountain brought coolness.
Gaston touched the sparkling streams - everything was real - the water, the flowers, and the castle itself.
Standing near the gate were tall guys in metal armor. Gaston had once seen such knights in picture books as a child.
The knights were silent, but their weapons were blocking the way.
Gaston decided to speak himself:
"Your master was looking for my wife. Her name is Belle, a girl from a town nearby."
One of the knights leaned toward the other:
"We must tell Cogsworth."
The first knight disappeared behind the castle gates, and Gaston waited.
After a while, the knight returned with a plump man who was dressed in a brown and yellow suit and had a pocket watch hanging on a chain. Gaston had once seen the watch on the town priest, who was very proud of it.
"My name is Cogsworth, and I am the head butler," the little man addressed the hunter in a ceremonious manner. "Come with me."
The knights parted, and Gaston entered the castle gates behind the butler.
The castle was very large, and Gaston walked along the long corridors, trying not to stare at the paintings on the walls and various sculptures near the rooms. Cogsworth walked in silence, but occasionally turned around and looked at Gaston, as if trying to understand something. The hunter became nervous, pulled his shirt back a few times and smoothed his hair. Maybe he was dressed wrong or something?
When the fat man turned around again, Gaston couldn't stand it:
"Why are you looking at me like that? Is my face dirty or is there something wrong with my hair?"
" No, no," said the butler, embarrassed. "No, not at all..." He hesitated a moment, as if hesitating to ask, but he could not help himself. "Are you Belle's husband?"
"Yes," Gaston answered. "Why else would I have come?"
Cogsworth's face became sad for some reason, as if he expected a negative answer.
They entered a large hall with a rug on the floor.
"Wait here," said the butler, and disappeared behind a carved door.
Gaston remained standing, hesitating to sit down on the small chairs covered with light-colored embroidered cloth. While waiting, he took off his gloves five times and put them back on, wondering how to present himself to the prince.
A maid passed by, a brunette girl, brushing invisible dust off large candles and statues. She had a neckline so deep in her bodice that Gaston stared at her breasts without wanting to. She hummed disapprovingly and walked further down the hall, into the corridor. "Everything is clear," Gaston thought with a sinking heart. If there were any faint doubts and hopes as to why the prince had requested the prettiest girl in town, looking at this maid and her uniform dispelled all doubts. No, he could not allow Belle to be a maid to this lecherous prince.
"Oh, Gaston?" Some girl called out to him.
Hunter turned around and saw another girl in a maid's uniform, a blonde. With surprise he recognized one of the Bimbettes from the town.
"Paulette?" he suggested, not having a hint of a green dress.
"Yes, that's me," the girl stepped closer and frowned. "What are you doing here?"
"And you?" Asked Gaston, not answering her question and staring at her wide neckline. "So all the pretty girls in town are here already?"
Paulette took a step back, blushed and pressed her hands to her chest, pulling up the bodice of her dress:
"I quit the tavern, Gaston. You see, I needed a change in my life. It's hard for me to see you every day since you got married."
Gaston's eyes widened. What an idiot.
"Am I stalking you or something? I don't need you."
She pressed her lips together resentfully for some reason.
"And you, because of your silly worries, did not find anything better than to get a job here as a maid? To these lecherous aristocrats? Look at you! They'll turn you into a profoursette, if they haven't already."
Paulette's eyes widened as she considered what he had said, and then she was furious:
"You... You called me a whore?"
"That's not how I said it."
"That's exactly what you said!" she clenched her hands into fists. "Well, Gaston... You... I didn't even realize you were such a boor. I... I've always been a decent girl, always, even in your tavern, I never let anyone..."
"And now look at you! Walking around half-naked for those rich men to see."
"I've always had that cleavage! Look! I was working in a tavern, was I supposed to change my life or not? What good could it be there? The same drunken faces, and looking at you married. Maybe I want to be happy, too."
"Happy?" He leaned over to her and hissed. "Oh, you're a fool, a stuffed fool. You're squeamish about simple guys. You realize, you idiot, that if some Dick or Stanley pinches you, you can slap him in the face and everything will be fine. You'd have everybody's support. And here you don't have the right to say no to these people, they by birthright can do whatever they want to you. You'll see that soon enough, so my good advice to you, don't try to please the new masters of life. You'll cry later."
"It's none of your business what I do," Paulette frowned and stepped back. "You're always saying mean things about everyone behind their backs. Prince Adam isn't like that, he's not a lecher."
"Yeah, you're already defending him! And look how brave you've gotten. You couldn't say two words in front of me before, and now you think you're a princess because you serve the prince? Come on, come on."
Paulette must have been hurt by his words, and she stood there, biting her lips. Her pale face was blotchy and her hands were shaking.
"Who are you to tell me what to do? You call me a whore, and what are you doing here?" she paused, thinking. "Yes, that's right. You've come to Prince Adam to ask for the position of royal huntsman. You're afraid you'll be outdone. You're a hypocrite, that's what you are."
Gaston didn't say anything, so she was encouraged and was just getting air in her lungs to say something else when the door opened and Cogsworth came running out.
"Why are you yelling like that?" The fat man was almost crying. "Why you use such words... The master can almost hear everything."
Paulette turned and walked away, and Gaston stood there dumbly fixing his hair. That idiot Paulette was going to ruin his whole conversation.
"Come along," Cogworth waved his hand in an inviting gesture. "I've already reported you."
Gaston smoothed his hair again, put on his gloves, and stepped through the high doorway. In the hall, a young man dressed like an aristocrat sat on a chair. Blue surtoute, white shirt with all sorts of lace, black pants. Gaston noted with regret that this prince was very young and, as they say, rather handsome. No, not rather. Very handsome. Young girls always like that kind of face.
Gaston lowered his eyes and bowed. He didn't know how to do it properly, and he certainly didn't want to kneel or anything like that. Cogsworth didn't correct him in any way, so it was all right. Then the butler went out and it was just the two of them.