Cocardasse and Passepoil paused, gasping. Both had one name on their lips, and the name was the name of Lagardere. In another moment Lagardere was stooping again, the long hair was falling about his face, and the two men could scarcely believe that Æsop was not standing before them. "Hush! To you both, as to all the world, I am Æsop, Gonzague’s attendant devil. Now I have work for you. Go to-night at eleven to No. 7, Rue de Chantre." As he spoke he drew a letter from his coat and gave it to Cocardasse. "Give this letter to the young lady who lives there. I have warned her of your coming. I have told her what she is to do. She will accompany you unquestioningly. I have to trust to you in this, friends, for I have my own part to play, and, by my faith, it is the hardest part I have ever played in my life." He laughed as he spoke; then he drew from his breast another packet and handed it to Passepoil. "Here," he said, "are three invitations for the king’s ball to-night—one for the girl you will escort, one for each of you. When you go to the house you will wait till the girl is ready, and then you will escort her to the king’s ball in the Palais Royal at midnight, and bring her into the presence of the king by the royal tent near the round pond of Diana."
"I will do that same," said Cocardasse, cheerfully.
"Never let her out of your sight at the ball," Lagardere insisted.
"Devil a minute," Passepoil affirmed.
"Let no one speak to her," Lagardere continued.
"Devil a word," said Cocardasse.
As the hunchback seemed to have no further instructions for them, the pair made to depart, but Lagardere restrained them, saying: "Ah, wait a moment. We are all the toys of fate. If any unlucky chance should arise, come to me in the presence of the king and fling down your glove."
"I understand," said Cocardasse.
Lagardere dismissed them. "Then, farewell, old friends, till to-night."