in. You wish this discovery
to come as a surprise to madame the princess."

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 AEsop 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?"

"You have," said Gonzague, decisively. Something in the hunchback's
manner attracted him. The suggestion of mysterious influences appealed to
his Italian spirit, and the confidence of the hunchback inspired him
with confidence. He pointed to the curtained alcove.

"Madame the princess," he said, gravely, "comes every day at this hour to
spend some moments in contemplation and in prayer beside the picture of
her former husband. That alcove shrines his sword. By virtue of a mutual
understanding, this room is always left empty daily at this same time,
that madame the princess may fulfil her pious duty untroubled by the
sight of a