"I would not even have her here," said the Prince under his breath, "save my mother commands it, that she be treated like any other slave, that she be enjoyed by others. Given my own will, I would chain her to my bedpost. I would beat her. I would watch every tear, every change of color."
Beauty felt her heart in her throat like a little fist knocking there faster and faster. "I would make her my wife, even..."
"Ah, but you are in the grip of madness."
"Yes," said the Prince, "she has done that to me. Are others blind?"
"No, of course not," said Juliana, "she is lovely. But each seeks his own love, you know that. Would you have everyone else equally mad for her?"
"No," he shook his head. And without looking away from the chessboard, he reached out to caress Beauty's br**sts, lifting them, squeezing them, so that she winced.
But suddenly everyone was rising.
Chairs slid back on the stones; the assemblage stood bowing.
Beauty turned.
The Queen had come into the room. Beauty glimpsed her long green gown, the girdle of gold embroidery about her hips and that sheer white veil that hung down her back to her hem, only thinly concealing her black hair.
Beauty went down low on her hands and knees not knowing what she must do. Her forehead touched the stones and she held her breath. Yet she could see the Queen approaching. The Queen stood right before her.
"Be seated everyone," said the Queen, "and return to your games. But you, my son, how do you fare with this new passion?"
The Prince was obviously at a loss for an answer.
"Pick her up, display her," said the Queen.
And Beauty realized she was being lifted by her wrists. She rose up quickly, her arms being twisted behind her, her back forced into a painful arc, and suddenly she was standing on her toes moaning. The clamps seemed to tear at her ni**les, the jewels between her legs to pull her open. Behind the jewel in her navel, she felt her heart beat, and she felt it too in the lobes of her clamped ears and in her eyelids.
She was looking at the floor but all she could see was that shimmering chain and some great indistinct form that was the Queen standing over her.
Then suddenly the Queen's hand struck Beauty's br**sts so hard that Beauty cried out, and at once felt the Page's fingers over her mouth tightly.
She moaned in panic. She felt her tears come, the Page's fingers biting into her cheek. And without meaning to, she struggled.
"There, there, Beauty," whispered the Prince. "You do not show my mother your best disposition."
Beauty tried to calm herself, but the Page forced her forward more harshly.
"She is not so bad," said the Queen, and Beauty could feel the iron in her voice, her cruelty. No matter what the Prince did to her, she did not sense in him such pure cruelty.
"She is only afraid of me," said the Queen. "And I wish you were more afraid of me, my son."
"Mother, be gentle with her, please, I beg you," said the Prince. "Allow me to keep her in my chambers, and to train her myself. Don't send her back to the Hall of Slaves tonight."
Beauty tried to smother her own crying. It seemed the Page's hand over her mouth only made it more difficult for her.
"My son, when she has proven her humility, we shall see," said the Queen. "Tomorrow night, the Bridle Path."
"O, but Mother, it is so soon."
"Such rigor will be good for her; it will make her malleable," said the Queen.
And turning with a broad gesture that loosened the train of her gown and made it fall behind her, the Queen left the parlor.
The Page released Beauty.
And the Prince at once took her wrists in his hand and urged her out into the corridor, Lady Juliana coming beside him.
The Queen was gone, and the Prince moved Beauty angrily along ahead of him, Beauty's sobs echoing under the dark vaulted ceilings.
"O, dear, poor exquisite dear," said the Lady Juliana.
At last they reached the Prince's apartments, and to Beauty's misery, the Lady Juliana came in as if this were nothing to enter the Prince's chamber.
"Have they no propriety and restraint among themselves," Beauty thought, "or are they degraded with each other as we are degraded?"
But she soon realized it was only the Prince's study, and Pages were about. And the door remained open.
The Lady Juliana took Beauty now from the Prince, he soft cool hands urging Beauty down on her knees before her chair.
Then from somewhere in the folds of her gown, the Lady produced a long narrow silver-handled brush and she commenced to brush Beauty's hair lovingly. "This will soothe you, my poor precious one," she said. "Don't be so frightened."
Beauty broke into fresh sobs. She hated this lovely Lady. She wanted to destroy her. She felt such savage thoughts, ad yet she wanted at the same moment to cling to her, to sob against her breast. She thought of friends she'd had at her father's Court, her Ladies in waiting, and how many times they had been easily affectionate with one another, and she wanted to abandon herself to the same affection. The brushing of her hair produced a tingling all through her scalp and through the flesh of her arms as well. And when the Lady's left hand covered her br**sts and gently patted them, she felt herself defenseless. Her mouth went slack and she turned towards the Lady Juliana and laid her forehead against her knee, defeated.
"Poor, darling one," said the Lady. "But the Bridle Path is not so dreadful. You will be grateful afterwards that you were used rigorously in the beginning, for it will all the sooner soften you."
"Familiar sentiments," Beauty thought.
"Perhaps," the Lady Juliana went on with the rhythmic stroking of the brush, "I shall ride beside you."
What could this mean?
And then the Prince said:
"Take her back to the Hall now."
Without explanations, without farewells, without tenderness!
Beauty turned and rushed to him on her hands and knees and gave his boots fervent kisses. Again and again she kissed them both, hoping for what she did not know, one real embrace from him perhaps, something to allay her fears of the Bridle Path.
The Prince received her kisses for a long time, and then he lifted her and turned her to Lady Juliana who clasped Beauty's hands behind her back.
"Be obedient, beautiful one," she said.
"Yes, you ride beside her," said the Prince. "But you must make a good show of it."
"Of course, I should very much enjoy making a good show of it," said the Lady Juliana, "and it is best for you both. She is a slave, and all slaves desire a firm mistress and master. If they cannot be free, then they do not like for there to be ambivalence. I shall be most firm with her, but always loving."