The Count's pallor, which had been growing for the last several minutes, became terrifying as the exhalation of a corpse-candle at these words. He could not speak, but for the words "Ougah-bougah," and remained like a log with eyes for seconds uncounted before he recovered. He took out his pocket watch (clearly the work of Durin) and put on his hat in the style of Gondor, paid Bilbette a brusque and embarrassed compliment, shook the hands of Meurtrier and Armalvéguil, and said:
"Madame, permit me to come sometime to pay my respects, and to bring such blessings as I have it in my power to bestow, that your hands may run with gold, and yet the bankers over you have no dominion. I love your house, and am grateful for your welcome, as it is the first time in long years like the leaves of the tobacco plantations of the Blessed Realm that I have so forgotten myself." The first thing he did on arriving home was to send a Chevalier Noir to rue Jadis-Joppelin, 14, with the goose who laid the golden eggs.
"What a singular man is the Count of Monte Fato," said Armalvéguil.
"Oui," replied Meurtier. "But I believe he has an excellent heart, and is our friend."
"And I!" said Bilbette. "His voice sang into my heart as if he combined the eloquence of Saroumand with the beneficence of Gandault, and two or three times me seemed that I had heard it before. He has an air that reminds me... of sailors and of jewellers."
