"La Carcharotte proceeded to serve M. Ouanqueur supper with such zeal that he might have been the Prince des Hobbites returned from a duel with the Seigneur of the Rings. As for Buttrebeurrousse, he said nothing, and seemed hesitant even to look at his guest. 'I think it's clearing up,' he muttered; but as if to give him the lie, a thunderbolt clove the heavens as if a very flame cleaving the newsgroupes. That decided Ouanqueur, and he let himself be guided by la Carcharotte to his room, which happened to be right next to my closet.
"I heard Buttrebeurrousse and la Carcharotte arguing sotto voce about whether murdering their guest would offend the Valards, or, on the contrary, amuse them greatly. I didn't quite see why that mattered, so I fell asleep.
"I was awoken by a cry from the adjacent room, followed by a howling at the full moon; I vaguely saw Buttrebeurrousse carrying a coffer out of the door. I guessed that the dwarf was dead, and feeling hungry, decided to cook him..."
"Delightful custom," interposed the Count.
