"Needest thou something, my grandfather?" said Valartine.
"How many times have I recommended that you avoid to speak like a character in a poor opera?" said Villefaramir. "It will sound distinctly odd in polite society."
"Forgive me, father," said Valartine.
"I have just informed him, mademoiselle, of your upcoming wedding with the Baron Arafrantz."
Valartine trembled and went red, which might have been maidenly modesty or profound horror. Dénéthoirtier's eyes dilated with rage, as if his son were an orc pawing at his treasure, a foul little creature with greedy eyes and slobbering mouth – which in fact was not far from how M. de Villefaramir usually appeared to lesser lights. Dénéthoirtier blew out two beautiful grey rings of smoke that sailed up into the air without breaking and floated above the chandelier.
"Two smoke rings? But that meaneth ... means no!" said Valartine, scarcely concealing her delight under her enormous veil.
"He will see matters differently soon," said Villefaramir, and made a mental note to have Dénéthoirtier's pipe-weed changed.
M. and Mme. de Villefaramir left Valartine alone with her grandfather.
