"And yet is an excellent antispasmodic, far better than the modest feuil-du-roi with which I must content myself. But the recipe is doubtless a terrible secret, like the poems of Sauron, which none today durst read for fear that the hexameters might drive their minds to madness and horror."
"But I, madame, am gallant enough to offer you it. Only remember: no more than one drop, or an unusually unpleasing death shall be your lot."
"If I had the honour of being your friend, monsieur le comte, instead of quite simply the happiness of being greatly obliged to you, I would beg you to stay for dinner, and would accept no refusal, though you called upon the Valards in witness."
"A thousand thanks, madame," said Monte Fato. "But I myself have an obligation I must not violate, for faithless is he who invites a lady to the Opéra, and fails to arrive by at least the second act."
After taking a cordial leave of Mme. de Villefaramir, the Count murmured to himself, "Voilà a good soil, like that of the Shiré itself. The seed I have planted will exceed that of Nimrot in fertility, and the exploits of Morgot in elegance."
Faithful to his promise, he sent her the recipe for belladonna-touc the next day.
