I grow on a hedge that lines the path to the stable of the Beast. We are releasing an exquisite fragrance here where the sun shines and the birds sing and the howling winter cannot reach us.
The merchant who has spent the night in the castle has experienced the hospitality of his host, but he has not met him. Now he thinks that all the splendour belongs to him, that it was meant for him. We pick up his airs as he makes his way along the path. He wants to pluck a rose for his daughter, his Beauty.
He’ll get more than a prick from us, because here comes the Beast!