is friend's hand warmly. "I hope you may. Till to-night,
gentlemen."
All were standing now. The king embraced the company in a general
salutation and went out, followed by his friends. The lawyers, the
ecclesiastics took their leave. Only the friends of Gonzague remained in
the room, and they stood apart, eying their master dubiously, uncertain
whether he would wish them to go or to stay. Chavernay took it upon
himself, with his usual lightness of heart, to play their spokesman. He
advanced to Gonzague and addressed him.
"Can we condole with you on this game of cross-purposes?"
Gonzague turned to Chavernay, and his countenance was calm, bold, almost
smiling. "No. I shall win the game. We shall meet to-night. Perhaps I
shall need your swords."
"Now, as ever, at your service," Navailles protested, and the rest
murmured their agreement with the speaker. Then Gonzague's partisans
slowly filed out of the room, Chavernay, as usual, smiling, the others
unusually grave. Gonzague turned to Peyrolles, who had returned from his
task of convoying Flora to her apartments. "Who has done all this?" he
asked.
He thought he was alone with his henchman, but he was mistaken. AEsop had
quietly entered the room, and was standing at his side. AEsop answered the
question addressed to Peyrolles. "I can tell you. The man you can neither
find nor bind."
Gonzague started. "Lagardere?"
AEsop nodded. "Lagardere, whom I will give into your hands if you wish."
Gonzague caught at his promise eagerly. "When?" he asked.
"To-night, at the king's ball," AEsop answered.
XXIII
THE KING'S BALL
The gardens of the Palais Royal made a delightful place for such an
entertainment as the king's ball. In its contrasts of light and shadow,
in its sombre alleys starred with colored lights, in its blend of courtly
pomp and sylvan simplicity, it seemed the fairy-like creation of some
splendid dream. Against the vivid greenness of the trees, intensified by
the brightness of the blazing lamps, the whiteness of the statues
asserted itself with fantastic emphasis. Everywhere innumerable flowers
of every hue and every odor sweetened the air and pleased the eye, and
through the blooming spaces, seemingly as innumerable as the blossoms and
seemingly as brilliant, moved the gay, many-colored crowd of the king's
guests. The gardens were large, the gardens were spacious, but the king's
guests were many, and seemed to leave no foot of room unoccu
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