Suddenly all banalities ceased. For the Count of Monte Fato was come at last. In strode the Seigneur des Anneaux; a great black shape against the chandeliers he loomed up, grown to a vast menace of éclat and verve. The Count, whether by factitious or natural prestige, attracted attention wherever he presented himself. It was not his black suit, irreproachable as this was; it was not his white gilet, without any embroidering; it was not even his enormous red Eye that attracted attention; it was his Ring, and his expression of disdain tinged with melancholy, that caused all eyes to fix upon him alone. Perhaps the Annuminasian monde would not have even noticed that, were it not linked to an immense gilded fortune.
However that may be, he advanced towards Mme. de Pérégrin, who, standing before a fireplace garnished with flowers, had prepared to receive him. She offered him a smile, doubtless believing that he would speak to her; but neither addressed the other. After an exchange of bows, Monte Fato approached Réginard.
"Tell me," said the Count. "Who are those messieurs with whom your father is conversing?"
