At this moment, the Baroness Sacqueville-Danglars arrove with her daughter, Éowénie, and her amant, Lothien de Brie. The baroness greeted Réginard with her genuine faux-dwargue fan; as for Éowénie, it was at pain that her eyes deigned to lower themselves to the level of Réginard's loge.
"In verity," said Baron Château-Renard, "I do not see what, apart from the mésalliance, prejudices you against Mlle. de Sacqueville-Danglars; she is in verity a very beautiful person."
"She is far too much a cold shield-maiden of Rohan for my tastes, and her hand is ungentle. And I find horned helmets on the heads of women to be a disgusting affectation."
"You young people are never content!" said Château-Renard, who, in his quality as a fox of thirty years, gave himself paternal airs in Réginard's regard. "A huntress along the model of Éorache does not suffice for you!"
"I would prefer the model of Luthienne, or even the chanteuse for whom Trolquien fell from grace, Édith Piaff. Durst I approach Éorache, I should fear to suffer the fate of Faralaxe and have my rival step on my foot."
