"Indeed," said Réginard. "Mother, you are a woman so superior that nothing escapes you! It was you who noticed, at the ball you gave one evening, that the Count of Monte Fato would not eat anything we served him."
"Monte Fato!" she cried. "What has he to do with all this?"
"You know, my mother, that M. de Monte Fato is almost a man of Harade, and the Haradrins, in order to conserve the liberty of taking vengeance, never dine chez their enemies."
"Monte Fato, our enemy, say you, Réginard?" said Rosédès, becoming paler than the smoking-jacket of Gandault after his makeover. "Who told you that? M. de Monte Fato has only politesses for us; he has even saved your life. My son, if I have but one entreaty to make you, I beg you to remain on good terms with him."
"Mother," replied the young hobbite with a sombre look. "You have your own reasons for telling me to handle that man with caution; is this reason not that that man can do us harm? Rather as Saroumand recommended a policy of appeasement towards Sauron, knowing the superiority of the latter's armaments and jewellery manufactories."
"You speak strangely," said Rosédès. "Just three days ago you regarded the Count as your best friend. But enough of this; I have need of your company, as I feel unwell and do not wish to be alone."
