Already a shriek had come from the passage outside. The serving girl was standing there with her hands to her lips.
And the Prince went to the door to speak to her.
"Go to your master, the King. Tell him the Prince has come who was foretold to remove the curse on this household. Tell him I shall be closeted now with his daughter."
He shut the door, bolting it, and turned to look at Beauty.
Beauty was covering her br**sts with her hands, and her long straight golden hair, heavy and full of a great silky density, flared down to the bed around her.
She bowed her head so that the hair covered her.
But she looked at the Prince and her eyes struck him as devoid of fear or cunning. She was like those tender animals of the wood just before he slew them in the hung: eyes wide, expressionless.
Her bosom heaved with anxious breath. And now he laughed, drawing near, and lifting her hair back from her right shoulder. She looked up at him steadily, her cheeks suffused with a raw blush, and again he kissed her.
He opened her mouth with his lips, and taking her hands in his left hand he laid the down on her naked lap so that he might lift her br**sts now and better examine them.
"Innocent beauty," he whispered.
He knew what she was seeing as she looked at him. He was only three years older than she had been. Eighteen, newly a man, but afraid of nothing and no one. He was tall, black haired; he had a lean build, which made him agile. He liked to think of himself as a sword -- light, straight, and very deft, and utterly dangerous.
And he had left behind him many who would concur with this.
He had not so much pride in himself no as immense satisfaction. He had gotten to the core of the accursed castle.
There were knocks at the door, cries.
He didn't bother to answer them. He laid Beauty down again.
"I'm your Prince," he said, "and that is how you will address me, and that is why you will obey me."
He parted her legs again. He saw the blood of her innocence on the cloth and this made him laugh softly to himself as again he gently entered her.
She gave a soft series of moans that were like kisses to his ear.
"Answer me properly," he whispered.
"My Prince," she said.
"Ah," he sighed, "that is lovely."
When he opened the door, the room was almost dark. He told the servants he would have his supper now, and he would receive the King immediately.
Beauty he ordered to dine with him, and to remain with him, and he told her firmly that she was to wear no clothing.
"It's my wish to have you naked and always ready for me," he said.
He might have told her she was incomparably lovely, with only her golden hair to clothe her, and the blushes on her cheeks to cover her, and her hands trying so vainly to shield her sex and her br**sts, but he didn't say that aloud.
Rather he took her little wrists and held them behind her back as the table was brought in, and then he ordered her to sit opposite.
The table was not so wide that he couldn't reach her easily, touch her, caress her br**sts if he liked. And reaching out he lifted her chin so that he could inspect her by the light of the servants' candles.
The table was laid with roast pork and fowl, fruit in big glistening silver bowls, and immediately the King stood in the door, dressed in his heavy ceremonial robes, a gold crown atop his head as he bowed to the Prince and waited for the command to enter.
"Your Kingdom has been neglected for a hundred years," said the Prince as he lifted his wine goblet. "Your vassals have many of them fled to other lords; good land lies fallow. But you have your wealth, your Court, your soldiers. So much lies ahead of you."
"I am in your debt, Prince," the King answered. "But will you tell me your name, the name of your family?"