"Who are these Pseudonimos?" inquired Sacqueville-Danglars. "Are they rich?"
"They come from a race of princes," said Monte Fato. "To them you are but a passing canard; all the wealth of the Bank of Arnor is of little account to them; and all the deeds of your house but a small matter. The son, however, wants absolutely to marry an Arnorian."
"Fine idea, that!" said Sacqueville-Danglars, shrugging.
"The baron appears quite sombre today," said Monte Fato to Mme. de Sacqueville-Danglars. "Do they want to make him a chef-shirrife, by any chance?"
"Not that I know of," replied the baroness. "He will have lost while playing the Bourse, and will not know whom to blame."
The Roi des Sorciers announced M. and Mme. de Villefaramir. The latter was very upset that Thibaut had decided that none of the cat-food in their mansion was worthy of him. Mme. de Sacqueville-Danglars was full of sympathy and advice.
"You were less tender to me!" grumbled her husband.
"Please, monsieur," interposed Monte Fato. "If all the grievances that stand between husbands and wives are to be brought up here, we may as well abandon this soirée." M. de Villefaramir looked hopeful, but was soon disappointed; Sacqueville-Danglars bowed sullenly, and the company resumed the usual banalities.
