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Fantasy » alt.fan.tolkien » Count of Monte Fato, chapitre 12, part 2; triumph of willpower over technology
| Count of Monte Fato, chapitre 12, part 2; triumph of willpower over technology [message #74582] |
Mi, 06 Juli 2005 07:12 |
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"Yes, monsieur le god-king," replied the lackey.
"My wife has married beneath her station," explained
Sacqueville-Danglars as he led Monte Fato to the baroness's quarters.
"She is a demoiselle of the Braceguirdelles, a widow by her first
marriage of M. le colonel marquis de Proudefont." The Count nodded.
The baron, followed by the Count, traversed a long row of apartments
remarkable for their heavy sumptuosity and pompous bad taste (the
imitations of the arc-de-triomphe of Ar-Pharazon were really too much),
and arrove at the boudoir of the Baroness Sacqueville-Danglars. The
fashion of this boudoir was such that it was built on seven levels,
each delved into the hill, and about each was set a velvet curtain; it
was greater and stronger far than the baron's office, and far more
beautiful. The seventh level was impenetrable by any save Lothien de
Brie, who alone knew the password. The chairs were of chalcedony; the
doors represented pastoral scenes in the style of Ondrehillier; two
pretty inset pastels, finally, made this small chamber the only one in
the mansion to possess any character. It is true that it had escaped
the general plan of Sacqueville-Danglars and his architect Ioret, and
that the baroness and Lothien de Brie alone had selected the d=E9cor.
So Sacqueville-Danglars despised that coquettish little r=E9duit, and
was in any case never admitted there save in the company of another; it
was not in reality Sacqueville-Danglars who presented guests, but he on
the contrary who was well or badly received according to whether or not
the baroness found the guest agreeable. He was rarely admitted in the
company of a Dwargue, for example, and still more seldom in the company
of a posteur d'usenet.
As they arrived, Monte Fato veiled himself in shadow, for a jeu
d'esprit. Mme Sacqueville-Danglars, whose beauty could still be
cited despite her one hundred and eleven years, was at the piano, while
de Brie sat at her feet on the steps of the dais upon which she was
elevated, and leafed through an album. "I greet you," she told her
husband, "and maybe you look for welcome. But truth to tell, your
welcome is doubtful here; troubles follow you like obnoxious street
gamins. The last guests you introduced to me, those dreadful
Glamhothschilds, were three usurers in a highly unfashionable grey, and
yourself the most unfashionable of the four!"
"The courtesy of your boudoir has lessened somewhat of late,
madame," replied Sacqueville-Danglars stiffly. "My guest is the
Count of Monte Fato, who possesses jewellery that is worth many a
financier, even the mightiest." The Count materialised, extinguished
his shadow, and bowed.
The baroness looked surprised and pleased. She rose and gave her
husband a smile, which was not habitual on her part, and the Count a
curtsey that was at once ceremonious and gracious. Lothien exchanged
with the Count a gesture of half-acquaintance, and snapped his fingers
at the baron with a jovial "Coq-=E0-woupe!"
"Madame la baronne," said Sacqueville-Danglars, "Permit that I
present to you M. le comte de Monte Fato, who has been recommended to
me by my half-elven agents in Lottaloria in the most insistent terms.
I will only add that he comes to Annuminas with the intention of
spending six million floquerins in a year; that promises a series of
balls, soir=E9es, d=EEners, medianoches, and mushroom-popping contests,
in which I hope monsieur le comte will not forget us, as we ourselves
will not forget him in our little f=EAtes."
"You arrive in a perfectly dreadful season, monsieur le comte,"
said the baroness. "Annuminas is detestable in summer: there are no
balls, no mushroom soir=E9es, no auctions, no golfimboules; only hordes
of disagreeable dwarf-tourists. The Op=E9ra elfique is in Forodeterre
cooling the Snowblemen; the Op=E9ra du Shir=E9 left for the havens long
ago, and is everywhere except Annuminas; and as for the
Theatre-Hobbites, you know it's nowhere. All that remain are a few
pitiful races. Will you partake in races, monsieur le comte?"
"I shall do everything that one does in Annuminas, madame la
baronne," replied Monte Fato, "if I am so fortunate as to find
someone who can instruct me in the habits of the Shir=E9."
At this moment, Madame de Sacqueville-Danglars' favourite chambermaid
entered and whispered in her ear, whereat the baroness became paler
than the celebrated forodois hero, Frosty-Nelson.
"Monsieur," said the baroness to her husband. "What does it mean
that my moumaques are no longer in their stables? Nothing similar has
happened since the fell winter of 1547, when drunken trolls belonging
to the Huguenot faction stole all the tobacco in the Grands Smiaux."
"Madame, you know that these moumaques both cost more to feed than a
household, and are most impractical on roads made for
rabbit-transport."
The baroness shrugged her shoulders with an expression of deep
contempt. Sacqueville-Danglars approached his wife and spoke to her in
a low voice, without that she responded other than with a crushing
glance. Meanwhile, the Count showed his newly acquired oliphants to De
Brie, who was a noted amateur, and had even memorised a poem on the
subject.
"Par la lingerie de Luthiene!" cried De Brie. =AB If I am not
mistaken, those are your very own horses, attached to the Count's
car!"
Sacqueville-Danglars was stupefied.
"Is it possible?" said the Count, feigning astonishment.
"It is incroyable!" stammered the baron.
"How much did you pay for them?" inquired De Brie.
"But I don't really know," said the Count. "One or two of my
coats of mithrile, I believe; but I leave such matters to my
intendant."
While De Brie communicated this information to Mme de
Sacqueville-Danglars, her husband looked so out of countenance that
Monte Fato seemed to take pity on him.
"You see what ingrates women are," he said. "They are worse than
the douaniers of the Mountains of Cologne, who never do what one bribes
them to do. They always love most what is most harmful, and there's
really no alternative but to give them their head, and let them learn
their lesson by breaking it."
With this, he made his excuses, as did De Brie, and left Baron de
Sacqueville-Danglars to the wrath of his wife, colder and rather more
tempestuous than the storms of Charadras.
Two hours later, Mme de Sacqueville-Danglars received a charming letter
from the Count of Monte Fato, declaring that, as he did not wish to
begin his stay in Paris by driving a lady to despair - especially one
who, though born in the body of a maid, had an esprit at least the
match of his - he begged her to accept the restitution of the
oliphants. They had the same harness as before; only, in the centre of
the rosettes that they wore on their ears, the Count had placed a small
silmaril.
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