Gali brought the firearm to his master. It had been made to order by the dwarvish artisan Telcharmann. One capsule and a word of command sufficed to chase the bullet; and one could not doubt that the Count, as one says in terms of shooting, was occupied to converse with the hand.
He was about to practice the weapon on a target with the names of his three adversaries written in blood, when the Roi des sorciers appeared, followed by a veiled woman, more shadowy than wing of balrogue.
She had perceived the Count, blunderbuss in hand, and two swords on the table; she sprang forward.
The Count made a sign, and the Roi des sorciers vanished, returning sans doute to the world of the Unseen, and its probably highly fashionable balls.
"Who are you, madame?" asked the Count of the woman, or balroguette.
Kneeling, and clasping her hands with the accent of despair, the woman said: "Samouard! You will not kill my son!"
The Count took a step backwards, gave a feeble cry, and let fall his blunderbuss. "What name, which it is forbidden to spell, have you uttered, Madame de Pérégrin?" said he.
