"Where am I?" cried the lady, delirious with joy. "And to whom do I owe such happiness?"
"I am he who is the unfortunate cause of your chagrin, for I bought the oliphants from Sacqueville-Danglars; but the baroness seemed so to regret them, that I sent them back, begging her to accept them from my hand."
"Are you then that marvel of Terre-moyenne of whom the minstrels sing, the Count of Monte Fato?"
"Oui, madame," said the Count.
"I am Béruthielle de Villefaramir, and this is my cat, or rather my prince of cats, Thibaut."
The Count bowed as if he had never seen her name spelled nor heard it spoken.
