((Private))
Belle
The sun shone bright above, not a cloud in the sky, a delightful reprieve from the rain that had plagued the town of Morlaix for the past three days. With some nice weather for a change, Belle decided to go out for a stroll, taking in the sunlight with a book in hand. She found the fresh air reinvigorating and the world outside as fascinating as the ones within the books she read. Often she would walk out to a nearby hillock outside town and sit in the shade of an apple tree to read, pausing occasionally to gaze out at the great wilderness beyond and listen to the faint sound of the ocean waves crashing upon sandy beaches far off in the distance. She would spend hours on that hillock, exploring untold lands, forbidden romances, and exciting adventures all within the confines of her book, fuelled by her boundless imagination. And as dusk settled in and the last vestiges of sunlight faded away, she'd take one last glimpse at the landscape stretching beyond and wonder if the world outside her small provincial town was just as wonderful as the ones within her books. Perhaps one day she'd have an answer to that question.
Today, for a change, Belle decided to forgo her usual trip to the hillock outside town. She felt like stretching her legs after being cooped up inside for three days, so a walk around town seemed most appropriate. Seeing as her father was away on business, it would be nice to get out of the house for a change. She stepped out the front door, making sure to grab the latest book she was reading off the nearby shelf, and sauntered out into the street.
The town was buzzing with activity as Belle casually strolled down the streets and avenues of Morlaix. She naturally found herself drifting towards the market at the centre of town. The sound of customers bartering with merchants filled the air, but Belle was oblivious to it all, fully engrossed in her latest book. The priest at the local church, Father Robert, had a fine collection of literature that he let her borrow whenever she liked. At the moment, she was reading a copy of Romeo and Juliet. While intended as play, she found it just as enthralling in written word. The tale of star-crossed lovers, members of rival families, drawn together in a tragic tale of love and romance. It was the third time now that she had read it, but she found it just as entertaining as the first time. Perhaps one day she would be able to see it performed on the stage as it was meant to be. As for now, the small town in which she lived would never deign to hold such a cultural performance. Morlaix was nothing but a backwater provincial town, stuck in the mindset of the Dark Ages as far as she was concerned.
Belle weaved her way through the market square, never letting her eyes drift from the pages of her book. She was at the part where Romeo and Juliet first meet, and her heart fluttered in anticipation of what was to come. The local baker walked by with his tray like always and she artfully dodged aside without even a glance his way. She'd gotten used to navigating the streets without even looking where she was going. It allowed her to fully enjoy her novel, as well as avoid the stares sent her way. She was not oblivious to that fact that most of the townspeople paid her far too much attention. She'd seen the glares of envy as they admired her form as she blossomed into womanhood and the befuddled looks at what they saw as her unnatural reading habit. She'd heard the catcalls of the local men and the scoffs of old housewives disapproving of her intellectual pursuits. Belle didn't let it bother her. They were far less interesting than the people within the confines of the books she read.
As she left the square behind, wandering down back towards her house, Belle continued to dodge aside from those passing by. As she went to step past one man, he stepped in her way. She went to walk around him again, but he kept blocking her path. Glancing above the page she was reading, she let out a sigh. Of course it had to be the biggest brute in town.
"Bonjour, Gaston," Belle said as pleasantly as she could, although not hiding the impatience in her voice. She went to step around him, but he leaned his arm against the nearby building to block her way.
"Why Belle, you have grown into a fine young woman," Gaston said with his usual smug grin. His eyes scrutinized every inch of her body like she was a prize deer he was waiting to shoot. "It seems I missed much while fighting in the war."
"Well, you know, the long unmeasured pulse of time moves everything. We don't stay children forever." Belle let her gaze wander back to her book, hoping that Gaston would take the hint. He did not.
For a few seconds, Gaston stood there with his chest puffed up and a pompous smirk on his face. When it was clear she wasn't taking the bait, he said, "I suppose you're just dying for me to tell you all about the war."
Belle shrugged, casually trying to distance herself from him as she stepped a bit to the side. "Warfare isn't exactly one of my interests."
Gaston slapped her on the back suddenly and she nearly jumped in surprise. "Of course it isn't. War is a man's sport." Without giving her time to respond, he stepped up beside her and waved his arm in front of him as though painting a picture. "You should have seen some of the battles I was in though. The smell of gunpowder, the sound of cannon fire piercing the air, the screams of men as they died. What a time to be alive."
"Sounds... interesting," Belle said with an awkward grimace. She yet again tried to step around Gaston, but with no success.
"I also got to meet Napoleon himself," Gaston said, puffing out his chest again. "Even stood beside him at Waterloo. You could say I was pretty important."
"Wasn't Napoleon defeated at Waterloo?"
"Just barely, but only because he didn't listen to my advice," Gaston said, admiring his reflection in a nearby store window. "But you know how men like that are. Too important to listen to just anyone. It's too bad though. If he had followed my suggestions, he would have won that battle."
Belle had to look away so he wouldn't see her roll her eyes. "A sad day for France then that he didn't." She opened up her book, holding it out in front of her face to make it clear she was done with the current conversation, and attempted once more to step around Gaston.
Gaston grabbed the book with his grizzly hands, tearing it from her grasp. She went to snatch it back, but he held it out of her reach, staring at it like it was some disgusting insect crawling along the wall. "What abomination are you reading now?" He squinted his eyes and tried to read the binding with little success. He let out a curt laugh, smirking down at Belle. "You know, a pretty girl like you shouldn't waste such time on books."
Realizing that she wouldn't be getting her book back by force, Belle let out a sigh and crossed her arms. "And how exactly should I be wasting my time?"
Gaston gave her a toothy grin. "Why with me, of course." He flexed his arms, showing off his bulging biceps. Gaston seemed more impressed with his muscles than Belle was, and he even placed a light peck on his bicep. He didn't seem to notice that she wasn't interested at all. Returning his gaze to the book now in his hands, he said, "A girl like you should be at home having children and caring for a family, not reading. What good will books do for you?"
Chuckling to himself, Gaston casually tossed the book out onto the street. It landed in a puddle of mud left over from the recent rains. Belle gasped and knelt down by the puddle, fishing it out of the mud. She immediately wiped it on her dressing, trying to get rid of the moist gunk before it ruined the paper. Most of the mud had only gotten on the cover though, so it seemed fine at least. She scowled at Gaston and said, "You shouldn't be going around destroying other people's property. This book belongs to Father Robert. And for your information, books will help me. They broaden the mind, providing one with the information and knowledge necessary to follow any number of intellectual pursuits."
Gaston stared at her with a blank look on his face, likely trying to puzzle his way through the big words she had just used. After a moment, he let out a deep laugh and put an army around Belle's waist to pull her closer. She squirmed her way out of his grasp. Undisturbed by her resistance, he said, "Belle, you're a woman. You could be the smartest woman in the world and it won't get you anywhere. There's no future in that. I, however, offer you a future worth having." He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and guided her so she could see their reflection in the nearby shop window. "Just imagine. With my looks and your, ugh, looks as well, our sons would be the most handsome men in the world."
A small bit of bile rose up in the back of Belle's throat and she tried not to throw up. After giving one dry heave, she finally managed to sputter out a response. "Our sons?"
"It's only natural that the two most beautiful people in town get married and have a family together." Gaston turned to her, holding out his arm as though he expected her to faint and fall into his grasp. He was going to be sorely disappointed.
Plastering on the an incredibly fake smile, Belle patted Gaston on the shoulder and said, "I'm afraid I'm not quite ready for marriage yet. You should try asking one of the other girls in town. I know they'd love to be with you."
Gaston sputtered for a bit, taken aback by the rejection he had never expected. Belle used his reaction to finally move around him and scurried off down the street, not even bothering to open up her book. She wanted to get home as fast as possible. As she went to turn the first corner, Gaston finally regained his senses and called out after her. "Belle, you might not agree now, but you will soon enough. Men aren't exactly lining up to marry you with your strange habits. One day you'll find yourself alone, a lonely old woman with nothing to her name except a bunch of dusty old books."
Belle tried to shrug off Gaston's words as she raced home. He didn't follow, and she was grateful for that. She didn't want to be around him or anyone for that matter. When she finally made it back to the safety of her own home, she slumped down against the door and wiped away at the tears forming in the corners of her eyes. One day she'd prove him wrong, prove them all wrong. She wouldn't let herself be cooped up in this small town forever, becoming some nobody destined to bear children and nothing else. She'd make something of her life. She'd find people of a similar mindset, intellectuals who understood her. One day she'd leave this small provincial town and her own tale would finally begin.
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