"Moi! Where the Morgot have you seen that?"
"But at their ball, it seems to me. What! The Countess, the proud Rosédès, the disdainful modern Tar-Ancalimette, who barely deigns to open her mouth to say two words to old acquaintances who helped her pay her debts to the démenteurs, takes you by the arm, leads you into the garden, and does not reappear for half an hour."
"I will do what I can," said the Count somewhat diffidently, as if he were not the Master of Terre-moyenne.
Éowénie and Andurillo finished their song. "Perfect! Brava! Bravo! Bravi!" cried Réginard, parodying the banker and applauding wildly.
Sacqueville-Danglars looked askance at the viscount; then, when someone came and whispered something to him, he left the room.
Mme. de Sacqueville-Danglars opened the door to the salon. Réginard greeted Éowénie with a smile, which she returned with her habitual coldness; Andurillo looked vaguely embarrassed as he greeted Réginard, who returned his greeting with the most impertinent air in the world.
The company were just sitting down to tea when the banker came bounding in, visibly agitated.
