tongue when you come to
the wooing. Go to my steward for a wedding-garment. Your bride will be
here when you return."

The hunchback's bowed head came nearer still to earth in his profound
inclination. "You overwhelm me with kindness."

Gonzague paused, with his hand on the door, to look at him again. "You
kill Lagardere; you marry Gabrielle. Do I owe you most as bravo or
bridegroom?"

Again the hunchback abased himself. "Your highness shall decide
by-and-by." Then he turned and went out through the antechamber and left
Gonzague alone.

Gonzague rubbed his hands. "AEsop is my good genius." Then he touched a
bell and a servant entered, to whom he gave instructions. "Tell Madame
Berthe to come with the girl who was placed in her charge to-night."

The servant bowed and disappeared. Gonzague went to the golden doors and
threw them open. Standing in the aperture, he summoned his friends to
join him. Instantly there was a great noise of rising revellers, of
chairs set back, of glasses set down, of fans caught up, of fluttered
skirts and lifted rapiers. Men and women, the guests of Gonzague, flooded
from the supper-room into the great hall, and under the gaze of the Three
Louis, Oriol with his fancy, Navailles with Cidalise, Taranne, Noce, and
the others, each with his raddled Egeria of the opera-house and the
ballet. As they fluttered and flirted and laughed and chattered into the
great hall, Gonzague held up his hand for a moment, as one that calls for
silence, and in a moment the revellers were silent.

Gonzague spoke: "Friends, I have good news. Lagardere is dead."

A wild burst of applause greeted these words. The pretty women clapped
their hands as they would have clapped them in the theatre for some dance
or song that took their fancy. The men were not less enthusiastic. The
difference between the men and the women was that the men applauded
because they knew why their master was pleased; the women applauded
because their master was pleased without asking the reason why. The name
of Lagardere meant little or nothing to them.

Noce spoke a short funeral oration: "The scamp has cheated the gallows."

When the applause had died down, Gonzague spoke again: "Also I have good
sport for you. To-night you shall witness a wedding."

XXVII

AESOP IN LOVE

Again the applause broke forth. Oriol, his round eyes growing rounder,
echoed the last words as a question: "A wedding?"

Gonzague nodded. "A wonderful