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 cord, took one of the roads of the forest, and in a few hours the good man was at home. His children came around him, but, instead of receiving their embraces with pleasure, he looked on them, and holding up the branch he had in his hands, he burst into tears. “Here, Beauty,” said he, “take these roses; but little do you think how dear they are likely to cost your unhappy father.” He then related his fatal adventure: immediately the two eldest set up lamentable outcries, and, in a reproachful and malignant tone, said all manner of ill-natured things to Beauty, who did not cry at all. “Do but see the pride of the little wretch,” said they, “she would not ask for fine clothes, as we did; but no, truly, Miss wanted to distinguish herself; so now she will be the death of our poor father, and yet she does not so much as shed a tear.” “Why should I?” answered Beauty, “it would be very needless, for my father shall not suffer upon my account. Since the monster will accept of one of his daughters, I will deliver myself up to all his fury, and I am very happy in thinking that my death will save my father’s life, and be a proof of my tender love for him.” “No, sister,” said her three brothers,