The baron waited impatiently in the piano salon for his daughter to appear. Finally, he sent his valet to ask her why she wanted to see him and, above all, why she kept him waiting for so long, as he wished to be on his way to the Bourse to buy stock in modish long-haired elf-figurines.
In fact, Mlle. de Sacqueville-Danglars had requested an audience with her father, and had selected this salon as the meeting-place. This démarche had surprised the baron not a little. However, he had complied, in order to keep up his reputation as a mild and even weak father and husband; in private, however, the bonhomme yielded to the brutal husband and the absolute father who brooked no contradiction even on the question of pointed ears or the wisdom of Teleporno.
Finally Éowénie appeared, wearing a highly flattering coat of armour that followed the new "mode des orcs," and smoking a clove yavannette that went admirably with her helmet.
"Eh, bien, Éowénie, what is it, and why are we meeting here rather than in my study?"
