Æsop shrugged his shoulders. "I am a wizard. But it needs no wizard to
guess that, as the exalted personage is no longer with us, he will not
walk abroad to-night, and you will not have to yawn and doze in the lodge
till he return."
"What then?" asked Breant.
Æsop lowered his voice to a whisper. "Let me have the key of the little
lodge for to-night."
Breant lifted his hands in protest. "Impossible!" he said.
Æsop shook his head. "I hate that word, Monsieur Breant. 'Tis a vile
word. Come now, twenty louis and the key of the lodge for an hour after
midnight."
Breant looked at the purse and looked at the hunchback. "Why do you want
it?" he asked.
Æsop laughed mockingly. "Vanity. I wish to walk this ball like a
gentleman. I have fine clothes; they lie now in a bundle on the lodge
step. If I had the key I could slip inside and change and change again
and enjoy myself, and no one the worse or the wiser."
The purse seemed to grow larger to Breant's eyes, and his objections to
dwindle proportionately. "A queer whim, crookback," he said.
Æsop amended the phrase: "A harmless whim, and twenty louis would please
the pocket."
Breant slipped his hand into a side-pocket, and, producing a little key,
he handed it to Æsop. "There's the key, but I must have it back before
morning."
Æsop took the key, and the purse changed owners. "You shall," he
promised. "Good. Now I shall make myself beautiful."
Breant looked at him good-humoredly. "Good sport, Æsop the Second." He
turned and disappeared into the tent.
Æsop, looking at the key with satisfaction, murmured to himself: "The
best."
As he moved slowly away from the king's tent a little crowd of Gonzague's
friends--Chavernay, Oriol, Navailles, Nocé, Gironne, Choisy, Albret, and
Montaubert--all laughing and talking loudly, crossed his path and
perceived the hunchback, who seemed to them, naturally enough, a somewhat
singular figure in such a scene. "Good Heavens! What is this?" cried
Navailles.
Nocé chuckled: "A hunchback brings luck. May I slap you on the back,
little lord?"
Æsop answered him, coolly: "Yes, Monsieur de Nocé, if I may slap you in
the face."
Nocé took offence instantly. "Now, by Heaven, crookback!" he cried, and
made a threatening gesture against Æsop, who eyed him insolently with a
mocking smile.
Chavernay interposed. "Nonsense!" he cried. "Nonsense, Nocé, you began
the jest." Then he added, in a lower voice: "You can't pick a quarrel
with the poor devil."
The hunchback paid him an extravagant salutation. "Monsieur de Chavernay,
you are always chivalrous. You really ought to die young, for it will
take so much trouble to turn you into a rogue."
Fat Oriol, staring in amazement at the controversy, questioned: "What
does the fellow mean?"
Chavernay burst into a fit of laughing, and patted Oriol on the back.
"I'm afraid he means that you are a rogue, Oriol."
While the angry gentlemen stood together, with the hunchback apart eying
them derisively, and Chavernay standing between the belligerents as
peace-maker, Taranne hurriedly joined the group. He was evidently choking
with news and eager to distribute it.
"Friends, friends," he cried, "there is something extraordinary going on
here to-night!"
"What is it?" asked Chavernay.
Taranne answered him, with a voice as grave as an oracle: "All the
sentinels are doubled, and there are two companies of soldiers in the
great court."