gain: "Did you ever hear
of a man named Henri de Lagardere?"

The hunchback appeared agitated. "Madame," he replied, "Henri de
Lagardere is the enemy of my master, and he is my enemy. I have been
seeking him unsuccessfully for many years, both in my master's interests
and in my own."

The princess rose. "Enough, sir," she said. "I will consider his
highness's wishes. Come, Brigitte."

Holding the packet in her hand and leaning on her companion's arm, she
went towards the picture of Louis de Nevers and knelt for a moment in
prayer. Then she rose and silently quitted the room, still leaning on
Brigitte's arm.

XXII

THE FAMILY COUNCIL

Lagardere remained alone for a while in the room, pensively contemplating
the portraits of the Three Louis. Then the sound of footsteps came to his
ears, footsteps advancing from many directions, footsteps all making
towards the great hall. He smiled as a man smiles who is prepared to
encounter cheerfully great odds, and then, as if there were observing
eyes upon him, though indeed no eyes beheld him save those that were
painted in the canvases of the three friends, he slouched across the
room, more markedly the hunchback than ever, till he came to the
curtained door by the side of the picture of Louis de Nevers. He lifted
the curtain, glanced round him for a moment at the empty room, and then
dipped behind the curtain.

The curtain fell, the room was empty, save for the painted presences of
the Three Louis. But the room was not empty long. A few moments later
Gonzague entered the room respectfully escorting his illustrious master
and friend, Louis of France. At their heels followed a little crowd of
notabilities, eminent lawyers, eminent ecclesiastics, all of whom had
claim, by virtue of their kinship or by virtue of their authority on
delicate, contested family matters, to a seat and a voice in the council
that Louis of Gonzague had been pleased to summon. After these again came
Gonzague's own little tail of partisans, Navailles and Noce, Taranne and
Oriol, Choisy and Gironne, Albret and Montaubert, with Chavernay
fluttering about them like an impudent butterfly, laughing at them,
laughing at his august cousin, laughing at the king, laughing at
himself--laughing at everything. To him such a family gathering as this
which he attended was almost the most ridiculous thing imaginable on the
face of the whole world, and therefore deserving of consideration, if not
of serious