Where is the rider?
Where is the horse?
O Eorlo mio!
He's dead, of course!
O Eorlo, O Eorlo mio,
He's dead of course,
He's de-e-e-e-e-ead of course!
Réginard maintained an air of calm indifference, and said, "M. Pseudonimo has an excellent tenor, and Mlle. Éowénie a magnificent soprano, not to mention that she plays the piano like Yavanne at the Aïnoulindalée, where her arpeggi brought into being all manner of intoxicants."
"Yes; they agree marvellously," said Sacqueville-Danglars. Réginard appeared not to notice this crude double entendre, although Mme. de Sacqueville-Danglars blushed. "Last night," continued the banker, "the prince and my daughter inspired admiration in all who heard them."
"Which prince?"
"The Prince Pseudonimo."
"Oh, pardon, I didn't know he was a prince. That must have been ravishing. Will I be permitted to extend my compliments to Mlle. de Sacqueville-Danglars?"
