“Am I?” sadly replied the beast; “yet, besides being ugly, I am also very stupid: I know well enough that I am but a beast.”
“Very stupid people,” said Beauty, “are never aware of it themselves.”
At which kindly speech the beast looked pleased, and replied, not without an awkward sort of politeness, “Pray do not let me detain you from supper, and be sure that you are well served. All you see is your own, and I should be deeply grieved if you wanted for anything.”
“You are very kind—so kind that I almost forgot you are so ugly,” said Beauty, earnestly.
“Ah! yes,” answered the beast, with a great sigh; “I hope I am good-tempered, but still I am only a monster.”
“There is many a monster who wears the form of a man; it is better of the two to have the heart of a man and the form of a monster.”
“I would thank you, Beauty, for this speech, but I am too senseless to say anything that would please you,” returned the beast, in a melancholy voice; and altogether he seemed so gentle and so unhappy that Beauty, who had the tenderest heart in the world, felt her fear of him gradually vanish.
She ate her supper with a good appetite, and conversed in her own sensible and charming way, till at last, when the beast rose to depart, he terrified her more than ever by saying, abruptly, in his gruff voice, “Beauty, will you marry me?”
Now Beauty, frightened as she was, would speak only the exact truth; besides, her father had told her that the beast liked only to have the truth spoken to him. So she answered, in a very firm tone, “No, beast.”
He did not go into a passion, or do anything but sigh deeply, and depart.