"Trolkianus rex Usenettiae..." said the heedless one, etching an exquisite chef d'oeuvre on the bust of Isildour that he had knocked off a coffee table.
"Thibaut! Naughty child!" cried Mme. De Villefaramir, seizing the bust from her cat's claws. "You are intolerable, you are out of your senses. Go and join Valartine with grandfather Dénéthoirtier."
"I want the bust," said the feline, curling itself up in an armchair with the air of one who never yields. Would that Rohan had had the like when assailed by Saroumand!
"Take it, and leave us in peace," said Mme. de Villefaramir, giving Thibaut the bust and leading him out of the room.
"Let us see if she shuts the door behind him," murmured the Count. And indeed, she carefully closed the door and looked around her. The Count appeared not to notice.
"It is Caranthir Nepos that the charming rascal, to whom you are far too severe, was citing," said the Count. "Which indicates that his preceptor has not wasted time on him, and that your pet is well advanced for his age."
"The truth is," replied the lady, somewhat flattered, "that he has a great facility and learns whatever he wishes. He has but one great defect, that of being too wilful; but à propos of what he was saying, do you believe that Trolquien took precautions and that these precautions were efficacious?"
