Eszterhazy nodded. “And his wife needn’t scrub the floor on her aged knees,” he said. Old woman, old wife, old she-cat with claws. And with that one ring of power which wanton Mr. Mudge had so terribly wanted. That he, too, might have claws? And, turning, changing his spots—and more than alone his spots—use such claws in the night?
“Yes, yes,” said Stowtfuss, pityingly. “Yes, poor chaps, the poor old things. He and his old wife are cousins, you know. They are also related to . . . what’s the name? her maiden name? . . . a relation to the poet, same as the old man’s mother’s maiden name, to the poet Count Giacomo—ah yes! Leopardi! Leopardi! Count Giacomo Leopardi was their cousin. I suppose you may guess the animal in that coat of arms.”