Hardly had he left, than the Lord Marcello stepped quickly up to a group, declaring he had great news to tell them. They crowded about him, wondering what he had to say. ’Twas of Rigoletto. “What, had he lost his hump?” cried one. “Had _he_ become straight?” cried another. “No, no,” replied the lord. “Rigoletto, Rigoletto has a mistress!” They all laughed merrily, perhaps a little cruelly, for men and women love to return blow for blow. “What a change, from a hunch-back to a cupid.” They were yet laughing, when the fool passed near them with the duke, who was still thinking of the Ceprano’s wife. “Steal her away!” said the fool. “Easily conceived, but not easily performed,” replied the duke. “This very evening. Have you no prisons, great duke? Can you not banish him? Or take his head?” “What, Ceprano’s head?” asked the duke aloud, and turning to that noble. “Yes--what is it good for?” The count drew his sword as the duke smiled, and the fool affected to be overcome with fear. “Ah! ah! he is very amusing to-night.” But the fool did not see how menacingly the courtiers drew together, and frowned at him. The duke lightly warned the fool that he might jest too deeply, and that the count’s sword might end his jokes. “Bah! who shall be brave enough to touch the duke’s favorite?” And he imitated the duke, and turned away from the group of nobles, not noticing their angry looks and gestures. At this moment an aged lord appeared at the door, and violently thrust himself into the hall, though the servants tried all they could to hold him back. His hair was white, his limbs trembling--his was another family the duke had dishonored. The guests started with surprise. “I _will_ see the duke, and even here blazon forth his crimes.” “I _will_ see the duke--and even here blazon forth his crimes,” exclaimed the fool, mockingly, and, as well as he could, imitating the grand posture of the aged noble. “Poor wretch!”---- Then, turning to the duke, the lord again exclaimed that he spoke in the name of his dishonored family, and called for justice. “Justice--justice!” continued the fool. “Let him be arrested,” said the duke, as he frowned upon this new comer. “He is mad,” said the fool, solemnly. “He is mad,” repeated the courtiers. “Be both accursed,” cried the old lord to the fool. The soldiers seized him--“thou and thy shameful master--who can laugh at a father’s grief--be both accursed.” The fool, as the curse was uttered, drew on one side, put his hands together affrightedly, and said to himself, his superstition all dominant, “He cursed me--he cursed me.” Meanwhile, the cowardly courtiers merely looked after the doomed lord as he was led away. * * * * * That same night, when the weary dancing was over, and the duke no more required his fool, Rigoletto stole out, and went quickly to an obscure part of the city, to a high thick wall, in which was a small retiring door.