"And Éowénie is quite pretty, and the way she twirls her spear is quite ravishing," said the Count.
"Very pretty, or rather very beautiful," replied Réginard. "But of a beauty that I do not appreciate. I am no Arroroute, to ecstasise at the beevish heft and leather boots of a modern Éorache. And she eats far too much sauerkraut."
"Do you know," said Monte Fato, lowering his voice, although Lothien was busily contemplating the Iron Crown of Morgot, wherewith Luthienne frolicked in the Elder Days when the balls were far less civilised and well-attended than in the Third Age, "you do not seem too enthusiastic about this marriage!"
"I feel a certain embarrassment in wedding one whose horned helmet is worth more than my entire fortune," said Réginard.
"Fortune isn't everything, even in Annuminas," said the Count. "A fine name or a high social rank also count for something. And the Count de Pérégrin is a soldier; one loves to see the integrity of a Vermilangue allied to the poverty of a Turin."
"There is something else," said Réginard. "Both I and my mother find her repugnant. My mother, indeed, has I know not what prejudice against the Sacqueville-Danglars."
