"Nefvverr, my lord. Forr in ze morrrninkg I vill zinc zat you vill kome, andt ze eveningk I vill zink zat you heffv kome, andt vhen I am alone, I ave ze grret meammorries, I szzee again ze great tableaux ofv Quirithe-Oungallant, ze cafvves, andt ze zstill, zstagnant air, andt ze blakck vapourssz wrought ofv verrrritable darrrknessz itself, more reszzstful zan ze opium ofv z balrrrogks andt ze garrdenzs ofv Minas-Morgoule, verre ze perfume turrendt ze minssz ofv leevingk meen to madness, andt ze imprisszondt moonlight veldt zrough ze marble vallsz, fvairr andt rradiandt, lightingk ze vhite floversz andt buativfuul asz ze dented forrmsz ofv an uneaszy drrream."
"You are a worthy daughter of Quirithe-Oungallant, Shélobe, gracious and poetic, and it is evident that you descend from the family of goddesses that were of old worshipped in Harade. Be tranquil, then; I shall see to it that your beauty will never fade, for I love you as the hobbite loves the herbe-à-pipe."
"And I you, as ze Balrogq lovethz ze ckoffveeh."
The Count extended a hand to the spider-maid with a smile of profound tenderness, and she imprinted it with her lips. With that, he left murmuring the verse of Quendar, "By that pool long ago I found the river-daughter, the fair young golden-berried one, sitting in the rushes, sweet was her singing then, and her heart was beating!"
