Still Gonzague nodded, still Gonzague kept silence.
"I believe that you have requested madame the princess to attend this family council, and that up to the present you have not succeeded in obtaining her assent."
"That is so," said Gonzague.
"I was about to suggest," the hunchback went on, "if your highness will permit me, that you should employ me as your ambassador to madame the princess. I believe I could persuade her to be present at the family gathering."
Gonzague looked at the man in astonishment. "What persuasions could you employ," he asked, "which would be likely to succeed where mine have failed?"
Again Æsop made an apologetic gesture as he pleaded his former excuse. "That is my secret," he repeated; "but, prince, if you employ me you must let me attain my ends by my own means, so long as you find that those ends give you satisfaction and are of service to your purposes. Though I am by no means"—here he laughed a little, bitter laugh—"an attractive person, I believe I have a keen wit, and I think I have a clever tongue, thanks to which I have often succeeded in difficult enterprises where others have failed ignominiously—at least, it will be no harm to try."
"Certainly," Gonzague agreed, "it will be no harm to try. If the princess persists, I could, of course, in the end compel her by a direct order from the king himself, who is good enough to honor us with his presence to-day."
"But," the hunchback interrupted, "it would be far more agreeable to you if the princess could be induced to come of her own accord?"
"Certainly," Gonzague agreed.
"Then," said the hunchback, "have I permission to approach madame the princess and endeavor to persuade her to act in conformity to your wishes?"