"No one will come," said Navailles, mockingly.
At that moment Chavernay’s quick ear caught the sound of footsteps in the private passage outside, and called attention to the sound. "Some one is coming. Is it Lagardere?"
As he spoke all eyes were fixed upon the door. So firmly had the fear of Lagardere emanated from the consciousness of Gonzague to impress the hearts of his party that even then, when all present had the assurance from their leader that Lagardere was dead and done with, their conviction not unsettled, indeed, but somewhat disturbed by Chavernay’s words and Chavernay’s strange message, waited with uneasy expectation for what might happen. Then the door opened fully, and the hunchback came into the room, dressed now with a splendor of attire which seemed to contrast more grotesquely than his wonted sable with his twisted, withered figure. All present, including Gonzague, had for the moment forgotten the existence of the hunchback. All present, with the exception of Chavernay, burst into the loud laughter of relieved nerves as they beheld him.
"This is not Lagardere," said Oriol, holding his fat sides.
The hunchback laughed a mocking laugh in answer to the amusement of the company and the amazement of Chavernay. "Who speaks of Lagardere? Who remembers Lagardere? Æsop is the hero of this feast; Æsop is a gentleman to-night, with a silk coat on his back and a lace kerchief in his fingers. He woos a beauty, and the chivalry of France shall witness his triumph. Lagardere is dead! Long live Æsop, who killed him!"
The little marquis advanced towards the jesting hunchback with clinched hands and angry eyes. "Assassin!" he cried, and seemed as if he would take the hunchback by the throat, but Gonzague came between his kinsman and his servant, saying, coldly: "Whoever insults Æsop, insults me. Æsop marries the girl whom Lagardere called Gabrielle de Nevers."
Chavernay folded his arms and looked fiercely around him. "Now I know why Lagardere sent for me—to defend a helpless woman."
The hunchback drolled at him: "She will not need your championship. She will accept with joy the hunchback’s hand."
Chavernay shook his head scornfully. "That will never happen."
The hunchback answered him, coolly: "That will happen, Monsieur de Chavernay."