ntly to make it quite
plain that he cherished no such inclination. AEsop went on:

"He proved himself a pretty good swordsman on the night of the--shall we
say altercation?--and he certainly succeeded in persuading me that there
was something to be said for those secret thrusts that I treated too
lightly. When I first met Lagardere I knew all that Italy and all that
France could teach me of sword-play. Now I know all that Spain can teach.
I tell you, friend Peyrolles, I think I am the best swordsman alive."

Peyrolles did not at all like to be hailed as friend in this familiar
manner by the hunchback, but he had his reasons for mastering his
feelings, and he showed no signs of distaste. Perhaps he had begun to
realize that AEsop would not mind in the least if he did manifest
displeasure.

"Now, finding myself in Madrid," AEsop resumed, "and not being inclined to
follow the foolish example of my companions, which led each of them in
turn to you know what, I cast about to make myself comfortable in Madrid.
I soon found a way. I set up an excellent bagnio; I lured rich youths to
the altars and alcoves of play and pleasure. I made a great deal of
money, and enjoyed myself very much incidentally. It is always a pleasure
to me to see straight, smooth, suave men killing themselves with sweet
sins."

The expression of his face was so hideous, as he spoke in his demoniacal
air of triumph over those that were less afflicted than himself, that
Peyrolles, who was not at all squeamish, shuddered uncomfortably. AEsop
seemed for a while to be absorbed in soothing memories, but presently he
made an end of rubbing his hands together silently, and resumed his
speech:

"It was all in the way of my ancient and honorable trade to have no small
traffic with pretty women and the friends of pretty women and the parents
of pretty women. And it was this part of my trade which put the idea into
my head which prompted me to write to you, friend Peyrolles, and which
persuaded me to uproot myself from my comfortable house and my responsive
doxies, and jog all the way from Madrid to Paris."

The sense of what he had sacrificed in making the journey seemed suddenly
to gall him, for he glared ferociously at Peyrolles, and said, sharply:
"Here have I been talking myself dry while you sit mumchance. Tell me
some tale for a change. Why in the name of the ancient devil did Nevers's
widow marry Gonzague?"

Peyrolles laughed feebly. "Love, I suppose.