Mme. de Villefaramir summoned her cat, that the feline might reiterate his thanks to the Count, and Thibaut had made haste to be present, not indeed to thank the Count or, still less, to obey Mme. de Villefaramir, but out of curiosity, and that he might utter one of those lazzi or jeux d'esprit that made her say, "Oh, the naughty cat! But I must forgive him, for he is subtle and quick to make me laugh with practical jokes, such as when he replaced the prime minister's tobacco with lembasagna."
After the initial courtesies, the Count inquired about M. de Villefaramir.
"My husband dines with the Chancellor tonight," replied the young woman. "He has just left, and I do not doubt will regret being deprived of the pleasure of seeing you."
"Your husband is quite right to keep to the company of his equals," said Monte Fato. "He is not yet ready to face my full éclat, if indeed he ever will be. For I am far more dangerous than any he will encounter, should he be brought before the presence of the Dark Banker. Agh bourzoum-ichy crimpatoul!" As he delivered himself of this aperçu, the Count's tone became menacing, powerful, harsh as a Forodois attempt at absinthe; a shadow seemed to pass over the meridian sun. Some of the other guests plugged their ears.
"Plaît-il?" inquired Mme. de Villefaramir with a nervous laugh.
"Pardon, I was speaking to myself; a bad habit of les hommes supérieurs."
