Valartine took Meurtrier by the hand. "Alors," she said, "Thou knowest I loveth Meurtrier Morrie, the son of an honourable businessman from Hobitonne, of an irreproachable name that Meurtrier hath rendered glorious, for at thirty-three he is captain of the Uruc-haïs and officer of the Legion of Stewed Rabbits. Eh bien, forced were I to wed another, must I slay myself, leaping from the Tour-Eithil or immolating myself on the pyre of Féanoir!"
The old man evinced a world of tumultuous thoughts. Then he blew a smoke-ring that said, as clearly as the oracle of Galadriella: "Trust in me; I have the means to prevent that Arafrantz should ever wed Valartine." And such was the authority of this smoke-ring, that neither Morrie nor Valartine durst doubt of his ability to accomplish his will, cursed though he were by the Valards with the appearance and immobility of a potato with a face and chapeau.
Little enthusiasm had Arafrantz for his impending marriage with Valartine, for he found her tragic-opera style of discourse somewhat off-putting. Nevertheless, like the hobbite who became a pirate on a bet despite his fear of boating, he was a slave of duty, and determined to see the unhappy business through. Such was his frame of mind when he received a message that Dénéthoirtier wished to speak to him as soon as possible. Dutiful as always, he hastened to Voûte du vautour, the Villefaramir mansion, arriving there on Thursday the 22 Cermidor, in the hope that, through his devotion, he might overcome whatever repugnances M. de Dénéthoirtier might have in regards to the marriage.
