On arriving in his office, M. de Villefaramir observed the usual niceties of his exalted position, which chiefly involved making the accused wait as long as humanly, or inhumanly, possible. Finally he assumed the gravity that his office required.
"Let the accused be brought into my presence," he commanded.
If he hoped to see an abject halflingue cringing with dread, he was disappointed. The hobbite who stood before him exhibited all the indignation of falsely accused innocence.
"Who and what are you?" interrogated Villefaramir.
"Samouard Gamgès, a hobbite," replied the accused.
"You are charged with plotting to overthrow Aragon and restore the usurper Sharcoléon," said the steuard gravely. "What do you have to say in reply?"
His face was stern and commanding, and a keen wit lay behind his searching glance.
"See here, steuard!" replied Samouard, planting himself squarely in front of Villefaramir, with a look on his face as if he were addressing a hobbite-gamin who had offered what he called "blague" when questioned about visits to the bordels. "I've never had any political opinions at all, for I find them rather above my station, and expensive besides. Monsieur, today is my wedding day, and I expected to marry my beloved and become captain, not spend the happiest day of my life in prison."
