His subjects received him with joy. He married Beauty, and lived with her many years, and their happiness was compleat.” Steadfastly ignoring the pain of the classic fairy-tale ending, Cat translated into French the final sentences from the well-worn book which was one of her childhood treasures. She held up an elaborate drawing of Beauty hugging the great rat-like beast. “See,” she said in English to the small fair-haired boy sitting on her lap. “La Belle, la Beauté. Beauty. Et la bête. The Beast. Dutifully, as if trying to please her, the little boy reached out a chubby finger and touched the picture. “The Beast is a Prince,” said Cat slowly and clearly. “He and Beauty are married. And very happy. Forever.” The little boy turned his thin face to hers, blue eyes wide in anxious inquiry. Abruptly, Cat closed the book and laid it aside, sweeping the solemn child into a warm embrace. Perhaps it was wrong to try to teach the boy English. No one was sure of his age—probably somewhere between three and four—and he had already had more grief than any child should bear.
