Gali put aside his chibouque, pulled the rope from his pocket, flung it, enveloped the forelegs of the oliphant to the right, and dragged it to the ground; he then inserted his chibouque into the trunk of the second oliphant, which immediately sat upon the ground and enjoyed a good smoke - for so permeated is Terre-moyenne with pipe-weed that the very cherrystone clams partake thereof.
The Count dashed from the palace, followed by several servants, and, as soon as the driver had opened the door, removed from the calèche the lady and her unconscious cat. Monte Fato brought them both into the salon and said, while placing them on a sofa of genuine dragon-scales, "Fear not, madame; you are saved." The lady turned, and saw the Count, and yet not the Count, for some strange incense in the room made him appear as a king returning from exile on an obscure Mediterranean island to his native land.
She gazed mutely at her cat, with a look more eloquent than the prayers of the Eldards.
"Oui, madame, I understand," said the Count, examining the feline. "But be calm: no harm has come to him, and it is fear alone that has brought him to this pass." Opening a phial from Goundabaden-Baden, encrusted with gold, he fed the cat one drop of a liquor red as the politics of the Orcs. The cat, although still pale, opened its eyes immediately.
