"The fact is," said Réginard, "that he seemed a bit eccentric. If he lived in Annuminas and frequented our spectacles, I would say he was some buffoon or merry-andrew who strikes a pose, or some poor devil who had read too many romances of M. Trolquien; this morning he let out two or three sallies worthy of the bel esprit Turin Turambard, except that he doesn't wear spats."
At this moment, a new visitor arrived in the Countess's loggia, and the friends withdrew. (The bass-baritone was pawing the mezzo disgustingly.)
The next morning, Réginard had a dragon-costume custom-made. He looked remarkably elegant in it, for it went admirably well with his hat. Arafrantz complimented him on his scales, and Réginard smiled with unequivocal satisfaction. At this moment, the Count of Monte Fato entered. After graciously allowing them the use of his eagle for the duration of their stay (for he possessed at least half a dozen), and receiving their profuse thanks with almost Elvish complaisance, he proceeded to speak of literature, art, science, and the wings of Balrogues with an extreme facility, and without the least pretension. Réginard found the Count's manners delightful, and considered that only his wide range of knowledge disqualified him from being a veritable gentilhobbite.
