Æsop amended the phrase: "A harmless whim, and twenty louis would please the pocket."
Breant slipped his hand into a side-pocket, and, producing a little key, he handed it to Æsop. "There’s the key, but I must have it back before morning."
Æsop took the key, and the purse changed owners. "You shall," he promised. "Good. Now I shall make myself beautiful."
Breant looked at him good-humoredly. "Good sport, Æsop the Second." He turned and disappeared into the tent.
Æsop, looking at the key with satisfaction, murmured to himself: "The best."
As he moved slowly away from the king’s tent a little crowd of Gonzague’s friends—Chavernay, Oriol, Navailles, Nocé, Gironne, Choisy, Albret, and Montaubert—all laughing and talking loudly, crossed his path and perceived the hunchback, who seemed to them, naturally enough, a somewhat singular figure in such a scene. "Good Heavens! What is this?" cried Navailles.
Nocé chuckled: "A hunchback brings luck. May I slap you on the back, little lord?"
Æsop answered him, coolly: "Yes, Monsieur de Nocé, if I may slap you in the face."
Nocé took offence instantly. "Now, by Heaven, crookback!" he cried, and made a threatening gesture against Æsop, who eyed him insolently with a mocking smile.
Chavernay interposed. "Nonsense!" he cried. "Nonsense, Nocé, you began the jest." Then he added, in a lower voice: "You can’t pick a quarrel with the poor devil."