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Beauty spent three months very contentedly in the palace; every evening Beast paid her a visit, and talked to her during supper very rationally, with plain good common sense, but never with what the world calls wit; and Beauty daily discovered some valuable qualifications in the monster; till seeing him often had so accustomed her to his deformity, that, far from dreading the time of his visit, she would often look on her watch to see when it would be nine; for the Beast never missed coming at that hour. There was but one thing that gave Beauty any concern, which was, that every night, before she went to bed, the monster always asked her, if she would be his wife. One day she said to him, “Beast, you make me very uneasy. I wish I could consent to marry you, but I am too sincere to make you believe that will ever happen; I shall always esteem you as a friend: endeavour to be satisfied with this.” “I must,” said the Beast, “for alas! I know too well my own misfortune; but then I love you with the tenderest affection; however, I ought to think myself happy that you will stay here. Promise me never to leave me?” Beauty blushed at these words; she had seen in her
