Peyrolles, pushing his way through the crowd and peering to right and left, caught sight of his master and hurriedly joined him. "Well," said Gonzague, "have you found the girl?" Peyrolles made a gesture of despair. "We have searched Paris without success. Not a sign of her, nor of him." Gonzague frowned. "She must be here. If she be the real child, the princess may recognize her." "And all is lost," said Peyrolles, with a groan. Gonzague almost smiled. "No. We will charge Lagardere with having assassinated the father and stolen the child for his own ends. He shall be hanged out of hand. Doña Flora will seem the commendable error of my over-zealous heart, and as for the new princess--well, even princesses are mortal." Peyrolles had always admired his master, but never perhaps so much as now. "Your Excellency is a man of genius," he said, enthusiastically. Gonzague smiled. "Forethought, my good Peyrolles--only forethought. But it would save trouble if the girl were out of the way." Peyrolles bowed. "I will do my best, monseigneur." "Good," said Gonzague. "I must wait upon his majesty. And upon the princess," he added. Gonzague, whose intimacy with the king always made him the first to be bidden to any special festivity, entered the tent unchallenged, and was warmly welcomed by Louis. Peyrolles remained outside, walking up and down, immersed in distasteful reflections. He had failed to find the girl; he had failed to get on the traces of Lagardere; he had seen nothing of Æsop. The ball, so pleasant to everybody else, seemed to him full of menace, and he eyed with some disapproval the jolly, noisy folk that thronged the alleys and shook the night with laughter. Swollen with sour humors, he leaned against a tree, cursing in his heart the folly of those swordsmen who had failed to get rid of a cursed enemy. Enveloped, as it were, in bitterness, he failed to notice a not unnoticeable group that detached itself from the crowd beyond and came slowly down the alley towards the Fountain of Diana. The group was composed of a woman in a rose-colored domino and mask, accompanied by two tall, masculine figures muffled from head to heels in black dominos, and their features completely hidden by bearded black masks. The pink domino and the twin black dominos seemed to be seeking their way. "This," said the bigger of the black dominos, and his voice was the voice of Cocardasse--"this must be the Fountain of Diana." The second of the black dominos pointed to the statue shining in the many-tinted water, and spoke with the voice of Passepoil: "There's some such poor heathen body." The woman in the rose-pink domino turned to Cocardasse and asked: "Is Henri here?" And her voice was the voice of Gabrielle. "I don't see him yet, mademoiselle," Cocardasse answered. Gabrielle sighed. "I wish he were come. All this noise and glitter bewilder me." And the trio proceeded slowly to make the tour of the fountain.