XI
AESOP REDUX
Seeing that the neighborhood was vacant of all occupants, the hunchbackadvanced to the Inn, and, seating himself at a table under one of thelittle arbors, drummed lustily with his clinched fist upon the board. Inanswer to this summons the landlord appeared hurriedly at the door--sucha man as had evidently been destined by heaven to play the part oflandlord of a wayside inn.
He advanced and questioned his guest obsequiously: "Your honor wants--"
The hunchback answered him, roughly: "Wine, good wine. If you bring mesour runnings I'll break your head."
The landlord bowed with a dipping upward projection of apologetic hands."Your honor shall have my best."
The landlord went back into the Inn, and the hunchback sprawled at hisease, tilting back his chair and resting his lean, black legs on thetable. He sat thus wise for some little time, blinking under the shadowof his large, black hat at the pleasant sunlight and the pleasantgrasses about him with something of the sour air of one to whom suchpleasant things meant little. But presently his careless eyes, that mightalmost have seemed to be asleep, so much were the lids lowered, suddenlygrew alert again. A man appeared on the bridge--a lank, lean,yellow-skinned man, with a face that seemed carved out of old ivory, withfurtive eyes and a fawning mouth. The new-comer was gorgeously,over-gorgeously, dressed, and his every movement affected the manners ofa grand seigneur. He carried a tall cane with a jewelled knob, on whichhis left hand rested affectionately, as if it pleased him, even in thisform, to handle and control costly things. Precious laces extravagantlylapped his unattractive hands. A sword with a jewelled hilt hung from hisside. The moment the new-comer saw the hunchback he hastened towards him,but the hunchback, for his part, for all his plain habit, showed nodeference to the splendidly dressed gentleman who saluted him. Heremained in his easy, sprawling attitude, his chair still tilted back,his thin legs still lolling on the table. The magnificent gentlemanaddressed him with a certain air of condescension in his voice:
"Good-morning, AEsop. You are punctual. A merit."
AEsop, without rising or showing any deference in his manner, answeredwith a scarcely veiled note of insolence in his voice: "Good-morning,Monsieur Peyrolles. You are not punctual. A defect. Sit down."
Peyrolles, apparently somewhat dashed by the coolness of his reception,obeyed the injunction of the hunchback and seated himself, but he stillforced the show of condescension into his manner and strove to maintainit in his voice as he continued the conversation. "Though it's--let mesee--why, it's seventeen years since we met--I knew you at once."
AEsop grunted: "Well, I knew you at once, if it comes to that, though thetime was no shorter."
Peyrolles smiled awkwardly. "You haven't changed," he observed.
AEsop's eyes travelled with a careful and contemptuous scrutiny over theperson of his old employer. "You have. You didn't wear quite such fineclothes when I saw you last, my friend. What luck it is to have a masterwho makes a rich marriage!"
As he said these words the landlord emerged from the Inn with a tray inhis hands that bore a bottle and glasses. As he approached, AEsop swunghis legs off the table and resumed the ordinary attitude of a feaster.The landlord placed the tray on the table, thankfully accepted AEsop'smoney, and with many salutations returned to the shelter of the Inn. AEsopfilled two glasses with a shining white wine and pushed one to Peyrolles."Drink!" he said, gruffly.
Peyrolles waved his yellow fingers in polite refusal. "I thank you. No."
In a second AEsop had sprung to his feet angrily, and, leaning over thetable, thrust his own twisted visage close to the yellow mask in frontof him. "Damn you!" he screamed--"damn you! are you too proud to drinkwith a man who has travelled all the way from Madrid on your dirtybusiness? Let me tell you--"
The man's attitude of menace, the man's violent words, clearly alarmedMonsieur Peyrolles, who interrupted him nervously with a voice quaveringwith protestation: "No, no, you need not. Of course, not too proud.Delighted."
AEsop dropped into his seat again. "That's better. Your health." He liftedthe glass to his lips as he spoke and slowly drained it. There was nosound of solicitation for his companion's welfare in his words, there wasno expression of pleasure on his face as he did so. He took the good wineas he took all bright and kindly things, sourly.
Peyrolles hastened to follow the example of his pledge. "Your health," hesaid, and sipped diffidently at the wine, and then, finding it agreeable,finished it.
There was a little pause, and then AEsop spoke again.
"Seventeen years," he murmured, with a chuckle--"seventeen years since welast met, on the morning, as I remember, after the little mishap in themoat of Caylus."
Peyrolles shivered, and seemed uneasy. AEsop paid no heed to his evidentdiscomfort.
"What a wild-goose chase you sent us all on, I and Staupitz and theothers--flying into Spain to find Lagardere and the child. The othershunted for him, as I suppose you know, with the results which, also, Isuppose you know."
Peyrolles nodded feebly. His yellow face was several tinges yellower, histeeth seemed to threaten to chatter, and he looked very unhappy. Hisvoice was grave as he spoke: "Those who did find him were not fortunate."AEsop laughed.
"They were fools," he asserted. "Well, for my part, I said to myself thatthe wise course for me to follow was not to waste my strength, my energy,and my breath in chasing Lagardere all over a peninsula, but to waitquietly for Lagardere to come to me. Madrid, I reasoned, is the centre ofSpain; everyone in Spain comes to Madrid sooner or later; _ergo_, sooneror later Lagardere will come to Madrid."
"Well, did he?" Peyrolles asked, forcing himself to give tongue, andeying the hunchback dubiously. He found AEsop too humorous for his fancy.AEsop grinned like a monkey whose nuts have been filched.
"No," he said--"no, not as yet, to my knowledge, or he would be dead. ButI have a conviction that our paths will cross one day, and when that daycomes you may be sorry for Lagardere if your heart is inclined to bepitiful."
The unpleasant expression on Monsieur Peyrolles's face whenever the nameof Lagardere was mentioned now deepened sufficiently to make it quiteplain that he cherished no such inclination. AEsop went on:
"He proved himself a pretty good swordsman on the night of the--shall wesay altercation?--and he certainly succeeded in persuading me that therewas something to be said for those secret thrusts that I treated toolightly. When I first met Lagardere I knew all that Italy and all thatFrance could teach me of sword-play. Now I know all that Spain can teach.I tell you, friend Peyrolles, I think I am the best swordsman alive."
Peyrolles did not at all like to be hailed as friend in this familiarmanner by the hunchback, but he had his reasons for mastering hisfeelings, and he showed no signs of distaste. Perhaps he had begun torealize that AEsop would not mind in the least if he did manifestdispleasure.
"Now, finding myself in Madrid," AEsop resumed, "and not being inclined tofollow the foolish example of my companions, which led each of them inturn to you know what, I cast about to make myself comfortable in Madrid.I soon found a way. I set up an excellent bagnio; I lured rich youths tothe altars and alcoves of play and pleasure. I made a great deal ofmoney, and enjoyed myself very much incidentally. It is always a pleasureto me to see straight, smooth, suave men killing themselves with sweetsins."
The expression of his face was so hideous, as he spoke in his demoniacalair of triumph over those that were less afflicted than himself, thatPeyrolles, who was not at all squeamish, shuddered uncomfortably. AEsopseemed for a while to be absorbed in soothing memories, but presently hemade an end of rubbing his hands together silently, and resumed hisspeech:
"It was all in the way of my ancient and honorable trade to have no smalltraffic with pretty women and the friends of pretty women and the parentsof pretty women. And it was this part of my trade which put the idea intomy head which prompted me to write to you, friend Peyrolles, and whichpersuaded me to uproot myself from my comfortable house a
nd my responsivedoxies, and jog all the way from Madrid to Paris."
The sense of what he had sacrificed in making the journey seemed suddenlyto gall him, for he glared ferociously at Peyrolles, and said, sharply:"Here have I been talking myself dry while you sit mumchance. Tell mesome tale for a change. Why in the name of the ancient devil did Nevers'swidow marry Gonzague?"
Peyrolles laughed feebly. "Love, I suppose."
AEsop waved the suggestion away. "Don't talk like a fool. I expect oldCaylus made her. He was a grim old chip, after my own heart, and ourwidow had no friends. Oh yes; I expect daddy Caylus made her marryGonzague. What a joke!--what an exquisite joke!"
Peyrolles replied, with attempted dignity: "You didn't travel all the wayfrom Madrid to talk about my master's marriage, I suppose."
In a moment AEsop's manner became ferocious again. Again he thrustforward his seamed, malicious face, and again the yellow mask drew backfrom it. "You are right, I did not. I came because I am tired of Spain,because I lust for Paris, because I desire to enter the service of hisHighness Prince Louis de Gonzague, to whom I am about to render a verygreat service."
Peyrolles looked at him thoughtfully, the yellow mask wrinkled withdubiety. "Are you serious about this service?" he asked. "Can you reallyperform what your letter seemed to promise?"
"I should not have travelled all this way if I did not know what I wasabout," AEsop growled. "I think it matters little if I have lost Lagardereif I have found the daughter of Nevers."
Peyrolles was thoroughly interested, and leaned eagerly across the table."Then you think you have found her?"
AEsop grinned at him maliciously. "As good as found her. I have found agirl who may be--come, let's put a bold face on it and say mustbe--Nevers's daughter. I told you so much in my letter."
Peyrolles now drew back again with a cautious look on his face as heanswered, cautiously: "My master, Prince Gonzague, must be satisfied.Where is this girl?"
AEsop continued: "Here. I found her in Madrid, the dancing-girl of a bandof gypsies. She is the right age. The girl is clever, she is comely, herhair is of the Nevers shade, her color of the Nevers tint. She is, bygood-fortune, still chaste, for when I first began to think of thisscheme the minx was little more than a child, and the gypsies, who werewilling to do my bidding, kept her clean for my need. Oh, she has beenwell prepared, I promise you! She has been taught to believe that she wasstolen from her parents in her babyhood, and will meet any fablehalf-way. She will make a most presentable heiress to the gentleman wekilled at Caylus--"
Peyrolles agitated his yellow hands deprecatingly. He did not like therevival of unpleasant memories. "My good friend!" he protested.
AEsop eyed him with disdain. "Well, we did kill him, didn't we? You don'twant to pretend that he's alive now, after that jab in the back yourmaster gave him fifteen years ago?"
Peyrolles wriggled on his chair in an agony of discomfort. "Hush, forHeaven's sake! Don't talk like that!"
AEsop slapped the table till the glasses rang. "I'll talk as I please."
Peyrolles saw it was useless to argue with the hunchback, and submitted."Yes, yes; but let bygones be bygones. About this girl?"
AEsop resumed his narrative. "I sent her and her tribe Franceward fromMadrid. I didn't accompany them, for I'm not fond of companionship; but Itold them to wait me here, and here they are. What place could be moreexcellent? All sorts of vagabonds come hither from all parts of the worldat fair-time. How natural that your admirable master should amuse hisleisure by visiting the fair, and in so diverting himself be struck by abeautiful gypsy girl's resemblance to the features of his dear deadfriend! It is all a romance, friend Peyrolles, and a very good romance.And I, AEsop, made it."
The hunchback struck an attitude as he spoke, and strove to twist hisevil countenance into a look of inspiration.
Peyrolles was all eagerness now. "Let me see the girl," he pleaded.
AEsop shook his head. "By-and-by. It is understood that if Gonzagueaccepts the girl as Nevers's child he takes me into his service in Paris.Eh?"
Peyrolles nodded. "That is understood."
AEsop yawned on the conclusion of the bargain. "Curse me if I see why hewants the child when he has got the mother."
Peyrolles again neared, and spoke with a lowered voice: "I can be frankwith you, master AEsop?"
"It's the best plan," AEsop growled.
The Duke's Motto: A Melodrama Page 12