"I should never have been so old," replied Villon; showing his
fingers, "if I had not helped myself with these ten talents. They have
been my nursing mothers and my nursing fathers."

"You may still repent and change."

"I repent daily," said the poet. "There are few people more given to
repentance than poor Francis. As for change, let somebody change my
circumstances. A man must continue to eat, if it were only that he may
continue to repent."

"The change must begin in the heart," returned the old man solemnly.

"My dear lord," answered Villon, "do you really fancy that I steal for
pleasure? I hate stealing, like any other piece of work or danger. My
teeth chatter when I see a gallows. But I must eat, I must drink,
I must mix in society of some sort. What the devil! Man is not
a solitary animal--_Cui Deus foeminam tradit_. Make me king's
pantler--make me abbot of St. Denis; make me bailly of the Patatrac;
and then I shall be changed indeed. But as long as you leave me the
poor scholar Francis Villon, without a farthing, why, of course, I
remain the same."

"The grace of God is all-powerful."

"I should be a heretic to question it," said Francis. "It has made you
lord of Brisetout, and bailly of the Patatrac; it has given me nothing
but the quick wits under my hat and these ten toes upon my hands. May
I help myself to wine? I thank you respectfully. By God's grace, you
have a very superior vintage."