"Nothing astonishing about that," said Réginard. "Since it's almost a year since I've been in Annuminas, the Count will have taken me for a provincial, possibly even for a Boucquelandier. I beg you, disabuse him at the earliest opportunity."
The arrival of the Count brought this conversation to an end. "It is now half-past noon," he said. "We have no time to spare."
On the way to the eagle, Arafrantz espied the Palazzo Tralalalli looming like a tree-borne volcano. "Which are your windows?" inquired Arafrantz of the Count as they mounted the Count's eagle.
"The last three," said the Count with an indifference that had nothing of affectation, for he could not know to what purpose the question was posed.
Arafrantz looked and, voilà, the last three windows had curtains bearing a large red... eye. There could not be the slightest doubt: the Count was indeed the mantled aristocrat whom Arafrantz had heard holding secret colloquies at the Teleporneum, as tourists yelled in touristese.
