"This is terrible story, story, Count," said Réginard, frightened by Shélobe's pallor. "And I reproach myself for having been so cruelly indiscreet."
"It is nothing," said Shélobe. "My misfortunes remind me of my master's benefactions."
"How did the Count become your master?"
"When my mother awoke from her faint, she knelt before Ulfang-Badgaï and said, 'Slay me, but spare the honour of the widow of Ala-Pallando.'
"'Is it not to me that you must address yourself, but to your new master.' And he indicated one of those most responsible for my father's death.
"Our new owner durst not look upon us, and straightaway sold us to slave merchants from the Lone Islands. They brought us to the imperial gate in Minas-Morgoule, where my mother cried and pointed at a head that had been placed on a pike next to the gate. Under it were written the words: This is the head of Ala-Pallando, renegade wizard and shirrife of Quirithe-Oungallant. I turned to look at my mother; she had fallen dead. Pougue, the leader of the slave-traders, drew me away from that place. Happily, my master bought me soon thereafter. A chance-meeting, as we say in Terre-moyenne, but one from whom flowed more blessings than from the coffee-shop of Gandault and the Balrogue."
