Gaston lay still, listening to the quiet, even breathing of the sleeping Belle. Once she was more deeply asleep, it would be safe to leave. Bruno, the puppy, was also sleeping nearby. Gaston had no time to deal with the animals, Bruno shat where he wanted and chewed what he wanted, and he slept in their marital bed, while Noir, the horse, grew fat without proper walks. Belle, who was "against physical punishment," was not allowed to discipline the puppy, and Gaston, who took half a day to prepare the food, simply gave up and fed the animals, promising himself that as soon as Belle was better he would put his manly hands on their discipline.
Time passed, and the man rose cautiously from his bed. Stepping noiselessly, he went out onto the porch, pulled on his boots, and closed the door behind him. Gaston went into the barn, wrapped a rope around himself, took a sack, and walked toward the castle.
The hunter walked out to the side of the castle, so as not to meet the knights who guarded the gate. No one thought to patrol the area around the castle in any way, because the prince had nothing to fear from the villagers. Everyone loved him. So it was easy - Gaston went to the wall almost closely and, untwisting the rope with the hook, threw the ironclad over the edge of the wall, hooking it there. He jerked the rope - it was firmly secured - and climbed up the wall.
Descending into the courtyard, he walked along the fountains, trying to stay out of the empty space and, noticing an open window, threw the rope and hook there. He climbed up the wall again, already the wall of the castle, and jumped inside the room.
Even at this point it became uncomfortable with what he, Gaston, was doing and about to do. No matter how much he chased those thoughts away, he was still disgusted. He had never stolen anything, except, of course, that time with Belle's dress, and especially all that expensive junk. It was something he was completely unable and unwilling to do, and being blackmailed into doing it made it even more disgusting.
Gritting his teeth, Gaston shoved a couple of candlesticks away without really looking at them and walked out into the hallway, heading for the kitchen. The kitchen was where he'd been, back when he'd come to visit the castle with Belle. The memories were unpleasant too, and Gaston shook his head and quickly began shoving silver forks and spoons into a bag. What was the point of torturing himself if there was no choice anyway.
After filling the bag with cutlery, Gaston went out into the hallway again.
What else could he take? "Jewelry," Jeannette had said, but where to find it? They're not just lying around the rooms. They will do without it. Gaston went into the hall and stood in it, trying to get his eyes used to the darkness enough to see the paintings. He saw a few small ones and stuffed them into a bag. That would probably be enough. There's so much silver in these forks that you could buy not one, but two houses.
Gaston stood hesitantly in the hall, because if he was done with this, he needed to move on to another task - spending the night, God forgive him, with Jeannette. God...
Yeah, well, he's got it all figured out. Too often he'd trumped up the fact that women were going crazy for him, and now one of them was apparently completely off her rocker. He was truly frightened by the look in Jeannette's eyes and the way she was trying to get him into her bed. She'd risked her freedom and still wanted to do it even though he'd broken her leg. And it was frightening because the strength of this sick passion almost bordered on insanity.
Gaston kept trying to think of ways he could avoid it, but nothing came to mind. Trap, blackmail, worked too well. If Belle had been well, they would have worked something out together. But there was no time or opportunity to give up this nasty stuff.
God, if only she wasn't contagious. He wouldn't want to bring infection into the house. Well, if she's not a whore, she's probably not contagious, right?
Oh, God.
He always picked his own women. Only the best ones. Never got drunk beforehand, never wasted his gorgeous body on something unworthy.
And here's an ugly one, older than him and, God forgive him, a cripple.
Oh, my God.
And she dares to force him! Disgusting!
Ever since he saw Belle, he didn't want any other woman. Now he had Belle, he knew Belle, he belonged to her and she belonged to him. And now he needs-
Oh, he can't even think about it. It's disgusting.
With these thoughts Gaston reached the house where Paul and Jeannette were waiting for him. He knocked quickly, not giving himself time to think about anything else and not to change his mind. The door opened and on the threshold Gaston saw Paul.
"Did you bring it?" Paul asked, and Gaston silently shoved the bag into his hands.
He began to rummage through the sack.
"Well, well, silver, good... What's this?" Paul took out one of the small paintings. "It's junk, it's worthless, look at the strokes and the colors here, it's a copy, at most ten years old."
"I'm sorry, I don't know much about painting," Gaston snapped back.
What do they want from him? The only thing he understood about drawings was how much his portrait depicted his strength and handsomeness. Strokes of some kind, hell knows what ...
"Are you making a joke?" Paul frowned as he continued to rummage through the bag. "It's very funny to you, isn't it? Are you stupid? If you don't know, ask if you're going to do the job. He brought some cheap stuff and thinks we'll get along."
Gaston stood silently by, Paul decided not to make him angry.
"All right, at first glance the silver was enough and the gold on the candlesticks. Come on, come up," he nodded at the staircase that led to the second floor of the house. "She's waiting for you."
Gaston looked at Paul with disgust.
"And you're okay with your woman... with another man?"
"You're not a man, Gaston," Paul shrugged. "You're a stupid, beautiful animal, and I'm her man. If she wants to have fun with you, that's fine with me."
Gaston had never been known for his calmness, and that stinking Paul had already gone over his mental faculties twice in the space of five minutes. It was only by sheer force of will and the thought that his accomplice might lead the marshals to Belle that the hunter gritted his teeth and started up the stairs. But all his movements betrayed a barely restrained malice.
He swung open the door to the room, and then slammed it shut behind him with a loud bang. Jeannette sat on the bed and stood up, and then, waddling, came to him.
"Silence, silence," she mumbled, touching his lips with her bony, dry-skinned fingers. How vile it is. "When you are silent, and as sad or serious as you are now, you are so handsome. There seems to be some mystery in your blue eyes. And when you open your mouth and say something, all the charm is gone, it's clear you're just a fool."
Here we go again. Sick ugly.
But he can control himself - can't he?
Gaston took a step back so she wouldn't touch him, unbuckled his belt, and pulled his shirt over his head. Then dropped his pants and, stepping on the heels of his boots, threw off his boots. Stepping over the clump of clothes on the floor he turned to Jeannette, naked.
"Come on, get undressed. And hurry up. I'm not going to be here all night."
She was silent for a while, frowning as if something wasn't going according to her plan. Then Jeannette came closer and poked Gaston in the chest with her finger.
"You're not trying. What's that? You're dropping your pants like you're going to the toilet. That's not what I want. Is that what you do with your wife? Make me like it."
Gaston frowned:
"Look, Jeannette, you want to be fucked by a real man - I can arrange that. But I won't play the schoolboy in love."
Jeannette blinked her eyes as if she hadn't heard his words.
"What's the matter with you? Do you hear yourself? What do you mean, "fucked"? "Hurry up"? Are you trying to command again?"
Gaston walked past her without answering and sat down gingerly on the bed, hoping the sheets were clean enough and his beautiful skin wouldn't be covered in any sores.
He looked up, examining the hunched woman.
"Oh, come on, Jeannette. We both know that no other way than blackmail could have gotten a man like me into your bed. So be satisfied, this time you got yours."
Jeannette began to approach the bed, and Gaston grimaced:
"God, try not to limp so much and slouch! You look like a giant insect. I can't feign a rabid passion for insects even if you cut me to pieces.
He really tried not to think about her appearance and what she was making him do, but it was beyond him.
The woman strode closer to him, not even trying to change her gait.
"You're gonna do what you're told, understand? Or I'll tell you again what's gonna happen, your wife's guts are gonna get shaken out and it's gonna be your fault! Don't piss me off. You do everything on the spot, you bring some junk and you're making a fuss over me! You want to spoil my fun, don't you? What woman am I to you? Am I any worse than your Belle? Or will you turn your nose up at her when she gives birth and gets fat?"
Gaston did not think it necessary to answer - how could anyone compare to Belle? True Beauty was her name, like a divine being descended to sinful earth. She was the best. And he loved her. Nothing could spoil her - not her fullness, nor any change due to time or past misfortune. But it's a dead end to say anything about beauty to freaks. They either didn't understand it - considering that it is possible to put on a face and be considered "beautiful" or tried to prove that beauty, true beauty is not so important, that it is somewhere inside. Well, degenerates like Paul and Jeannette certainly didn't have any beauty inside.
Jeannette stepped closer and once again repeated:
"So what about Belle, you fool? What am I not a woman to you? Both she and I are women!"For some reason it was important to her to prove it.
She called him a "fool" again, and Gaston just couldn't stand it:
"Of course she and you are women," he replied. - Just like a fine roast or pork slop - it's all food and sort of can be eaten.
He was satisfied - he answered wittily enough to shut Jeannette up. He thought she would finally get down to business and let him go, but suddenly Jeannette became furious and shrieked:
"Get out! Get out! Pull up your pants and get out! Wait for the marshals in the morning, you bastard!"
Gaston hesitated for a while, but she started screaming so loudly that she probably woke up the whole neighborhood. He put on his pants and grabbed his shirt and belt and went down the stairs. Paul was hanging around and Gaston was glad to punch him in the neck - he didn't care anymore