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275 pages, Paperback
First published January 31, 2017






By the time Belle had been encouraged to try “the grey stuff,” she was thoroughly delighted…
Belle sat down carefully, half-expecting the chair to lurch away from her and start talking. Lumiére—that was the name of the little man-shaped candelabra, she had ascertained—was still hopping about excitedly on the table, making a dull clomping noise every time his feet struck the tabletop.
“Mademoiselle,” he jabbered, “I apologize, on behalf of the entire household, for the dreadful impression my master made upon you earlier today. But be assured that his growl is far worse than his bite. He has no intention of starving you.”
Belle was not convinced, but couldn’t help smiling at the silly little metallic creature, so eager to please. “Is that so?” Her stomach picked just that moment to rumble.
“It is so!” insisted Lumiére. “He’s too proud to say sorry himself tonight, alas, but in the meantime let us make it up to you. Be our guest!”
At the last phrase, he waved his candle arms and the china began spinning off the shelves and floating in formation onto the table, looking like grand ladies dancing in voluminous skirts. Vases joined them, filling themselves with water and fragrant flowers from some invisible source. Belle gasped, more with delight than shock this time. She was used to strange sights by now, but up till this moment said sights had been either unsettling or outright frightful. This, at least, was a benign piece of magic.
The delicate scent of the floral arrangements was soon overwhelmed by the foods, which came flying out of the stove and settled themselves perfectly into the dishes and bowls. Honeyed ham—cheese fondue—lettuce and diced tomatoes dressed in balsamic vinegar and olive oil—fresh, hot, fluffy bread and just-churned butter—citrus from the Mediterranean coast—pressed fruit juices—champagne, which she had never tasted before—she had to try it all.
She had not eaten since that morning, when she’d first seen Philippe wander riderless into Villeneuve, and she knew she’d have a stomachache later, gorging like this after inadvertently fasting for most of the day. But the food was so good that she didn’t care. And Lumiére chattered on, boasting of where each item on the menu came from, whether imported from Tuscany (as the pasta alfredo had been), or made fresh on the castle’s premises (like the meat and most of the dairy).
By the time Belle had glutted herself on savory food and had moved to the sweets—a succulent cheesecake drenched in caramel sauce, a chocolate cake topped with a Mont de St. Michel sculpted in sugar, and hot cocoa liberally capped in whipped sweet cream—she noticed that Cogsworth the clock-butler and Mrs. Potts the teapot-housekeeper had come in, and appeared to be smiling.
"This is a tale of a beauty much deeper than that. It is the story of two people drawn together under the most interesting of circumstances, two people who learn to truly see what matters only after they meet each other and their tale—one both as old as time and as fresh as a rose—begins."









