There was something mediaeval in the combination; something legendary.

Put back the clock a few centuries and there we were, the Knight and the Dwarf, riding together on our quest, while the Lady for whose sake we were making idiots of ourselves was twiddling her fair thumbs in her tower far beyond the seas.
Professor Anastasius Papadopoulos broke upon this pleasing fancy by remarking again that Monsieur Saupiquet was a friend of Madame Brandt.
"He was with her at the time of her great bereavement." "Bereavement ?" I asked forgetfully.
"Her horse Sultan." He whispered the words with solemn reverence.

I must confess to being tired of the horse Sultan and disinclined to treat his loss seriously.
"Monsieur Saupiquet," said I, "doubtless offered her every consolation." "He used to travel with her and look after Sultan's well-being.

He was her----" "Her Master of the Horse," I suggested.
"Precisely.

You have the power of using the right word, Monsieur de Gex.
It is a great gift.