"So be it," replied Monte Fato. "Come sing an aria, and then we shall spend thy remaining hours reading the spam advertisements wherewith the postal service hath filled my post box." He led Meurtrier into the grotto where Arafrantz had once gotten bestoned and had beheld hot women. Perfumes enveloped him, a living light struck his eyes. They sat on Haradric divans, adorned with images of elves climbing upon elephants, across from each other.
"I understand now why you have brought me here, in this grotto where the very air bespeaks intoxicants of dubious legality, this tomb whereof a dwargue would envy," said Morrie. "It is that you are so benevolent towards me as to give me one of those deaths without agony, wherein I may pronounce while expiring the name of Valartine in extending to you the hand?"
"You have guessed aright, Morrie" said the Count with simplicity. "It is thus that I intend."
"Thank you; the idea that tomorrow I will no longer suffer is sweet to my heart."
Monte Fato rose and went to search in a carefully locked cupboard whereof he wore the key on a golden chain, a small silvern coffer marvellously carven and chisellen, whose corners represented four arched figures, similar to the moose-hunting caryatids of the desolate élans, figures of women, symbolizing Elves that aspire to Valinor, yearning for its perfumes and crinoline. He placed the coffer upon the table.
