Beautiful Beasts

Prologue: Be Our Guest

                                                                            LEFOU

Yes, come in! It is terribly cold out there. I'll get you sorted out right away. What will you have?

This is indeed the finest tavern in town, you were told correctly. I'm proud to own it and there's nowhere else I want to be on a night like this. All my happiest memories are here.

Let's pull this chair closer to the fireplace. It's the one he always used. Best seat in the house, naturally. Are you comfortable? Because to explain it all to you, it's going to take some time. I'm the only one that can tell it. Even if Gaston were still alive, he wouldn't have explained himself to you. No offense, of course. But he wouldn't explain himself to anyone.

And you know, he couldn't explain himself, any more than a lion could. The lion acts on instinct. It's a noble beast, yet the nobility has nothing to do with thinking noble thoughts...or having thoughts at all. It's more about the way the lion moves through his world with the self-assurance of a warrior-king. Gaston was the same way.

So I'm happy to tell you the story, since he can't and couldn't and wouldn't. Yes, I do think he was cursed. And through proximity to him for so many years, I think the curse may have spread to me somehow.

Oh, that's kind of you. Ask around the village if you really want to know, but you can call me as everyone else does around here. LeFou. The madman. Because I was mad enough to throw my life away on him. To hope until the end. Some of these drunkards laugh at me, and I sense some of the kinder ones pity me, but no one dares to make trouble. Like I said, I own the best tavern in town. Just look around you.

                                                                                             ***

                                                                                          ADAM

Of course I remember you! How could I forget a friend of Chip's? He's overdue for a visit. I miss him almost as badly as his mother does.

Speaking of which, what kind of tea will you take? Madame Potts will get it started. Put the English in charge of the tea, and leave the French in charge of the food, I've always said. But let them collaborate on dessert! What sort of cake would you like? Or would you rather have some of Madame Potts' treacle sponge pudding?

The dog is ridiculous. As Belle says, you could rest your feet upon him like an ottoman, order him not to move, and he would oblige. Don't pet him if you want a moment's peace this afternoon. Ah, I can't help myself either. We'll follow him to that room. I can feel the fireplace roaring from here. Lumiere tends to overdo it, but you look chilled to the bone, so maybe he was correct this once.

I'm glad for the company, since Belle and Maurice are out for the day...but I must confess, the request surprised me. Haven't you tired of the story? Belle must have told it to you and Chip a thousand times.

Mmm, I see. She does pretty things up, especially for children, but with all the fairytales she has read, I can't expect my lady to tell a story any other way. Yet I could have sworn, it was only a year or two ago at most, that you were here and she was telling you and Chip a version more suited to your age. That was my impression, from the bits I overheard.

She does make me out to be quite the beast! Ha! She's right, of course, but it's nice that someone wants to hear it from my point of view for a change. If I were all that bad, would Madame Potts be arriving at this very moment with pudding and cake on our tray? I think not.

Don't be shy. It's as delicious as it looks. I do hope you're planning on staying for dinner? It's going to be a feast.

It is Tuesday, after all.