"Certainly," Master Griveau answered, something astonished at being thus
carelessly treated.
"Then, by your leave," said the hunchback, and dexterously edged the
indignant notary out of the chair. "Leave the rest to me. Back, friends,
till I finish." Pushing the chair aside, he restrained with a sweep of
his arm the advancing crowd of gentlemen eager to see the name that Æsop
would acknowledge.
While Master Griveau, with a very much offended air, edged himself into
the circle of Gonzague's friends as one that had earned the right to move
freely in such company, the hunchback began rapidly to fill in the blank
spaces on the parchment before him.
Master Griveau felt it his duty to say a few words of protest on behalf
of the slightly offended majesty of the law. "A very extraordinary
ceremony, highness."
Gonzague smiled ironically, but cared nothing for the offended majesty of
the law, so long as his own purposes were being served. "Æsop is an
extraordinary man," he said.
The hunchback, who had overheard this conversation, pointed with the
feather of the pen he had just been using to Gonzague. "You are right,
prince," he said. Then he gave the pen to Gabrielle and whispered to her,
so low that no one heard him: "Sign Gabrielle de Nevers."
The girl took the pen from his hand and signed boldly, though she signed
that signature for the first time in her young life.
The hunchback took the pen from her fingers. "Now my turn." Deliberately
and swiftly he signed his name and flung down the pen. Then he moved back
a little way from the table and drew Gabrielle behind him. He turned to
the expectant company. "Come and see, sirs. You will stare, I promise
you."
All were eager to press forward and read the signature, but all
restrained their desire until the curiosity of the master of the house
was satisfied. Gonzague advanced leisurely to the table, relieved to
think the comedy had come to an end, and that he had satisfactorily rid
himself of an incubus. He bent carelessly over the parchment, and then
sprang back with face as pale and eyes as wild and lips as trembling as
if on the pitiful piece of sheepskin he had seen some terror as dread as
the face of Medusa. His twitching mouth whispered one word, but that word
was "Lagardere!" and that word was repeated on the lips of every man and
woman that watched him.
Before the eyes of all present a new miracle happened, more marvellous
than its predecessor, for the hunchback suddenly stiffened himself and
became erect and soldierly; the hunchback swept back the grizzled locks
that had so long served to conceal his features; the hunchback stood
before them a strong and stalwart man, with drawn sword in his hand.
Stretching out his arm, he extended the sword between Gonzague and the
parchment and touched with its point the signature that was still wet
upon its surface.
In a terrible voice he cried: "Lagardere, who always keeps his tryst! I
am here!"
For a moment that seemed sempiternal a kind of horrible silence reigned
over the room. It was hard to understand what had happened. The startled
guests stared at one another, terrified by the terror on Gonzague's face,
amazed at the metamorphosis of the hunchback, shuddering at the name of
Lagardere. The first to recover courage, composure, and resolution was
Gonzague himself. He sprang from the table to where his friends stood
together and drew his sword.
Pointing to where Lagardere stood, with Gabrielle clinging to his arm, he
cried: "He must not escape! Your swords, friends! It is but one man!"
But even as he spoke, and while Lagardere was waiting with lifted sword
for the inevitable attack, Chavernay crossed the room and stood at
Lagardere's side. "We shall be two!" he cried, and drew his sword.
At the same moment the doors of the antechamber opened, and Cocardasse
and Passepoil, with their naked swords in their hands, entered and ranged
themselves on the side of Lagardere.
"We shall be three!" said Cocardasse.
"We shall be four!" said Passepoil.
The situation was changed, but the situation was still perilous. On the
one side of the splendid room stood Lagardere, with Chavernay,
Cocardasse, and Passepoil, their gleaming weapons ready for attack. On
the other side, with a great gap of space between the two parties, stood
Gonzague and his cluster of light friends, every man of whom had bared
his rapier and was ready to obey the summons of his chief. Behind these
the women huddled together, some screaming, but the most part too
frightened to scream. Flora, overstrained, had fainted.
Lagardere taunted Gonzague. "Come, monseigneur," he said, "are you
afraid? The odds are not so favorable as they were at Caylus."