wedding. The bride is a beauty, and the
bridegroom is AEsop."

Navailles looked round over his companions and sighed for the absence of
a choice spirit. "How Chavernay would have laughed!" he said. "I wish he
were here."

"I did not invite Chavernay," Gonzague replied, coldly.

And even as he spoke the door of the antechamber opened and Chavernay
made his appearance unannounced, as briskly impudent, as cheerfully
self-confident as ever. He shook a finger in playful reproof at Gonzague
as he advanced, wholly unimpressed by the slight frown which knitted the
brows of his unexpected host. "It was most unkind of you; but another
makes good your neglect, whose invitation I really had not the strength
of purpose to refuse."

Gonzague's irritation was not altogether dissipated by the coolness of
his kinsman, but he judged that any show of anger was unbefitting so
felicitous an occasion, so he smiled slightly as he asked: "Who invites
you?"

Chavernay looked all around him, scanning the faces of the men in the
brilliant group of Gonzague's guests, as if seeking there a countenance
he failed to find. Then he answered, in a tone of voice that was
unusually grave for the light-hearted marquis: "Henri de Lagardere."

At the sound of that name a thrill ran through the guests, and all echoed
with astonishment the name of Lagardere.

Gonzague looked at Chavernay with a pitying smile. "You come too late,"
he said, "if you come at the summons of such a host. Lagardere is dead."

Chavernay gave a little start of surprise, while the others, to whom the
news had been good news some little while ago, but was no news at all
now, laughed boisterously at his expected discomfiture. But Chavernay did
not seem to be discomfited, and seemed inclined to doubt the tidings.
"Dead?" he said. "Why, he wrote to me to meet him here at two o'clock."

As he spoke he drew from his breast a folded piece of paper and extended
it to Gonzague, who took it with a reluctance, even with a repugnance,
which he controlled because it was so clearly unreasonable. The paper
contained a few words written in a bold, soldierly hand. They ran thus:

"Meet me to-night at two o'clock at the palace of the
Prince de Gonzague. HENRI DE LAGARDERE."

Gonzague returned the paper to Chavernay with an ironical smile.
"Somebody has been hoaxing you," he said. "You will not meet Lagardere
here."

Taranne consulted his watch. "It is now two