XXIII
THE KING'S BALL
The gardens of the Palais Royal made a delightful place for such anentertainment as the king's ball. In its contrasts of light and shadow,in its sombre alleys starred with colored lights, in its blend of courtlypomp and sylvan simplicity, it seemed the fairy-like creation of somesplendid dream. Against the vivid greenness of the trees, intensified bythe brightness of the blazing lamps, the whiteness of the statuesasserted itself with fantastic emphasis. Everywhere innumerable flowersof every hue and every odor sweetened the air and pleased the eye, andthrough the blooming spaces, seemingly as innumerable as the blossoms andseemingly as brilliant, moved the gay, many-colored crowd of the king'sguests. The gardens were large, the gardens were spacious, but the king'sguests were many, and seemed to leave no foot of room unoccupied. Hitherand thither they drifted, swayed, eddied, laughing, chattering,intriguing, whispering, admiring, wondering, playing all the tricks,repeating all the antics that are the time-honored attributes andprivileges of a masquerade. Here trained dancers executed some elaboratemeasure for the entertainment of those that cared to pause in theirwandering and behold them; there mysterious individuals, in flowingdraperies, professed to read the stars and tell the fortunes of thosethat chose to spare some moments from frivolity for such mysticconsultations.
In the handsomest part of the garden, hard by the Pond and Fountain ofDiana, a magnificent tent had been pitched, which was reserved for theaccommodation of the king himself and for such special friends as hemight choose to invite to share his privacy. Around this tent a stream ofmirth-makers flowed at a respectful distance, envying--for envy ispresent even at a masquerade--those most highly favored where all werehighly favored in being admitted into the sovereign's intimacy.
At the door of this tent, Monsieur Breant, who had been one of thecardinal's principal servants, and who still remained the head custodianof the palace, was standing surveying the scene with a curiosity dulledby long familiarity. He was unaware that a sombrely clad hunchback, quitean incongruous figure in the merry crowd, was making for him, until thehunchback, coming along beside him, touched him on the arm and called himby name: "Monsieur Breant!"
Breant turned and gazed at the hunchback with some surprise. "Who areyou?" he asked.
The hunchback laughed as he answered: "Don't you know me? Why, man, I amAEsop the Second. My illustrious ancestor laughed at all the world, andso do I. He loved the Greek girl Rhodopis, who built herself a pyramid. Iam wiser than he, for I love only myself."
Breant shrugged his shoulders and made to turn upon his heel. "I have notime for fooling."
AEsop detained him. "Don't leave me; I am good company."
Breant did not seem to be tempted by the offer. "That may be, but I mustattend on his majesty."
AEsop still restrained him. "You can do me a favor."
Breant eyed the impertinent hunchback with disfavor. "Why should I do youa favor, AEsop the Second?"
The hunchback explained, gayly: "In the first place, because I am theguest of his Majesty the King. In the second place, because I am theconfidential devil of his Highness the Prince de Gonzague. But my thirdreason is perhaps better."
As he spoke he took a well-filled purse from his pocket and tossed itlightly from one hand to the other, looking at Breant with a sneeringsmile. Breant would have been no true servant of the time if he had notliked money for the sake of the pleasure that money could give; Breantwould have been no true servant of the time if he had not been always inwant of money. He eyed the purse approvingly, and his manner was moreamiable.
"What do you want?" he asked.
AEsop made his wishes clear. "There is a little lodge yonder in thedarkness at the end of that alley, hard by the small gate that is seldomused. You know the gate, for you sometimes used to wait in that littlelodge when a late exalted personage chose to walk abroad incognito."
Breant frowned at him. "You know much, Master AEsop."
AEsop shrugged his shoulders. "I am a wizard. But it needs no wizard toguess that, as the exalted personage is no longer with us, he will notwalk abroad to-night, and you will not have to yawn and doze in the lodgetill he return."
"What then?" asked Breant.
AEsop lowered his voice to a whisper. "Let me have the key of the littlelodge for to-night."
Breant lifted his hands in protest. "Impossible!" he said.
AEsop shook his head. "I hate that word, Monsieur Breant. 'Tis a vileword. Come now, twenty louis and the key of the lodge for an hour aftermidnight."
Breant looked at the purse and looked at the hunchback. "Why do you wantit?" he asked.
AEsop laughed mockingly. "Vanity. I wish to walk this ball like agentleman. I have fine clothes; they lie now in a bundle on the lodgestep. If I had the key I could slip inside and change and change againand enjoy myself, and no one the worse or the wiser."
The purse seemed to grow larger to Breant's eyes, and his objections todwindle proportionately. "A queer whim, crookback," he said.
AEsop amended the phrase: "A harmless whim, and twenty louis would pleasethe pocket."
Breant slipped his hand into a side-pocket, and, producing a little key,he handed it to AEsop. "There's the key, but I must have it back beforemorning."
AEsop took the key, and the purse changed owners. "You shall," hepromised. "Good. Now I shall make myself beautiful."
Breant looked at him good-humoredly. "Good sport, AEsop the Second." Heturned and disappeared into the tent.
AEsop, looking at the key with satisfaction, murmured to himself: "Thebest."
As he moved slowly away from the king's tent a little crowd of Gonzague'sfriends--Chavernay, Oriol, Navailles, Noce, Gironne, Choisy, Albret, andMontaubert--all laughing and talking loudly, crossed his path andperceived the hunchback, who seemed to them, naturally enough, a somewhatsingular figure in such a scene. "Good Heavens! What is this?" criedNavailles.
Noce chuckled: "A hunchback brings luck. May I slap you on the back,little lord?"
AEsop answered him, coolly: "Yes, Monsieur de Noce, if I may slap you inthe face."
Noce took offence instantly. "Now, by Heaven, crookback!" he cried, andmade a threatening gesture against AEsop, who eyed him insolently with amocking smile.
Chavernay interposed. "Nonsense!" he cried. "Nonsense, Noce, you beganthe jest." Then he added, in a lower voice: "You can't pick a quarrelwith 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 willtake so much trouble to turn you into a rogue."
Fat Oriol, staring in amazement at the controversy, questioned: "Whatdoes 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 eyingthem derisively, and Chavernay standing between the belligerents aspeace-maker, Taranne hurriedly joined the group. He was evidently chokingwith news and eager to distribute it.
"Friends, friends," he cried, "there is something extraordinary going onhere to-night!"
"What is it?" asked Chavernay.
Taranne answered him, with a voice as grave as an oracle: "All thesentinels are doubled, and there are two companies of soldiers in thegreat court."
Navailles protested: "You are joking!"
Taranne was not to be put down. "Never more serious. Every one whoenters is scrutinized most carefully."
"That is easy to explain," said Chavernay; "it is just to make sure thatthey really are invited."
Taranne declined to admit this interpretation of his mystery: "Not so,for nobody is allowed on any pretext to leave the gardens."
Oriol flushed with a sudden wave of intelligence: "Perhaps some plotagainst his majesty."
"Heaven knows," Navailles commented.
AEsop interrupted the discussion with a dry laugh, dimly suggestive of thecackle of a jackdaw. "I kno
w, gentlemen."
Oriol stared at him. "You know?"
Noce gave vent to an angry laugh. "The hunchback knows."
While this conversation was going on a group of middle-aged gentlemen hadbeen moving down the avenue that led to the Pond of Diana. These were theBaron de la Hunaudaye, Monsieur de Marillac, Monsieur de Barbanchois,Monsieur de la Ferte, and Monsieur de Vauguyon. They had been taking apeaceful interest in the spectacle afforded them, had been comparing itwith similar festivities that they recalled in the days of their youth,and had been enjoying themselves tranquilly enough. Perceiving a group ofyoung men apparently engaged in animated discussion, the elders quickenedtheir pace a little to join the party and learn the cause of itsanimation.
When they arrived AEsop was speaking. "Something extraordinary is goingon here to-night, Monsieur de Navailles. The king is preoccupied. Theguard is doubled, but no one knows why, not even these gentlemen. But Iknow, AEsop the Wise."
"What do you know?" asked Navailles.
AEsop looked at him mockingly. "You would never guess it if you guessedfor a thousand years. It has nothing to do with plots or politics, withforeign intrigues or domestic difficulties--"
Oriol thirsted for information. "What is it for, then?"
AEsop answered, gravely, with an amazing question: "Gentlemen, do youbelieve in ghosts?" And the gravity of his voice and the strangeness ofhis question forced his hearers, surprised and uneasy, in spite ofthemselves, to laugh disdainfully.
AEsop accepted their laughter composedly. "Of course not. No one believesin ghosts at noonday, on the crowded street, though perhaps some do atmidnight when the world is over-still. But here, to-night, in all thisglitter and crowd and noise and color, the king is perturbed and theguards are doubled because of a ghost--the ghost of a man who has beendead these seventeen years."
The Baron de la Hunaudaye, bluff old soldier of the brave days of thedawning reign, was interested in the hunchback's words. "Of whom do youspeak?" he asked.
AEsop turned to the new-comers, and addressed them more respectfully thanhe had been addressing the partisans of Gonzague: "I speak of a gallantgentleman--young, brave, beautiful, well-beloved. I speak to men who knewhim. To you, Monsieur de la Hunaudaye, who would now be lying underFlemish earth if his sword had not slain your assailant; to you, Monsieurde Marillac, whose daughter took the veil for love of him; to you,Monsieur de Barbanchois, who fortified against him the dwelling of yourlady love; to you, Monsieur de la Ferte, who lost to him one evening yourCastle of Senneterre; to you, Monsieur de Vauguyon, whose shoulder shouldstill remember the stroke of his sword."
As AEsop spoke, he addressed in turn each of the elder men, and as hespoke recognition of his meaning showed itself in the face of each manwhom he addressed.
Hunaudaye nodded. "Louis de Nevers," he said, solemnly.
Instantly AEsop uncovered. "Yes, Louis de Nevers, who was assassinatedunder the walls of the Castle of Caylus twenty years ago."
Chavernay came over to AEsop. "My father was a friend of Louis deNevers."
AEsop looked from the group of old men to the group of young men. "It isthe ghost of Nevers that troubles us to-night. There were three Louis inthose days, brothers in arms. Louis of France did all he could to findthe assassin of Nevers. In vain. Louis de Gonzague did all he could tofind the assassin of Nevers. In vain. Well, gentlemen, would you believeit, to-night Louis of France and Louis de Gonzague will be told the nameof the assassin of Nevers?"
"And the name?" asked Chavernay.
Choisy plucked him impatiently by the sleeve. "Don't you see that thehumpbacked fool is making game of us?"
AEsop shrugged his shoulders. "As you please, sirs, as you please; butthat is why the guards are doubled."
He turned on his heel, and walked leisurely away from the two groups ofgentlemen. The elders, having little in common with Gonzague's friends,followed his example, and drifted off together, talking to one another ina low voice of the gallant gentleman whose name had suddenly beenrecalled to their memories at that moment. Gonzague's gang stared at oneanother, feeling vaguely discomfited.
"The man is mad," said Gironne.
"There seems a method in his madness," said Chavernay, dryly.
Albret interrupted them. "Here comes his majesty."
"And, as I live, with the Princess de Gonzague!" Montaubert cried,amazed.
Oriol elevated his fat palms. "Wonders will never cease!"
The Duke's Motto: A Melodrama Page 24