he said, "a poor Master of Arts of this university. I know some Latin,
and a deal of vice. I can make Chansons, ballades, lais, virelais, and
roundels, and I am very fond of wine. I was born in a garret, and I
shall not improbably die upon the gallows. I may add, my lord, that
from this night forward I am your lordship's very obsequious servant to
command."

"No servant of mine," said the knight. "My guest for this evening, and
no more."

"A very grateful guest," said Villon, politely, and he drank in dumb
show to his entertainer.

"You are shrewd," began the old man, tapping his forehead, "very shrewd;
you have learning; you are a clerk; and yet you take a small piece of
money off a dead woman in the street. Is it not a kind of theft?"

"It is a kind of theft much practised in the wars, my lord."

"The wars are the field of honour," returned the old man, proudly.
"There a man plays his life upon the cast; he fights in the name of his
lord the king, his Lord God, and all their lordships the holy saints and
angels."

"Put it," said Villon, "that I were really a thief, should I not play my
life also, and against heavier odds?"

"For gain, but not for honour."

"Gain?" repeated Villon, with a shrug. "Gain! The poor fellow wants