nothing of honour, of faith to God and other men, of courtesy, of love
without reproach. It may be that I am not very wise,--and yet I think I
am,--but you seem to me like one who has lost his way and made a great
error in life. You are attending to the little wants, and you have
totally forgotten the great and only real ones, like a man who should be
doctoring toothache on the judgment day. For such things as honour and
love and faith are not only nobler than food and drink, but indeed I
think we desire them more, and suffer more sharply for their absence. I
speak to you as I think you will most easily understand me. Are you not,
while careful to fill your belly, disregarding another appetite in your
heart, which spoils the pleasure of your life and keeps you continually
wretched?"

Villon was sensibly nettled under all this sermonising. "You think I
have no sense of honour!" he cried. "I'm poor enough, God knows! It's
hard to see rich people with their gloves, and you blowing in your
hands. An empty belly is a bitter thing, although you speak so lightly
of it. If you had had as many as I, perhaps you would change your tune.
Anyway, I'm a thief,--make the most of that,--but I'm not a devil from
hell, God strike me dead! I would have you to know I've an honour of my
own, as good as yours, though I don't prate about it all day long, as if
it was a God's miracle to have any. It seems quite natural to me; I keep
it in its box till it's wanted. Why, now, look you here, how long have
I been in this room with you? Did you not tell me you were alone in the
house? Look at your gold plate! You're strong, if you like, but you're
old and unarmed, and I have my knife. What did I want but a jerk of the
elbow and here would have been you with the cold steel in your bowels,
and there would have been me, linking in the streets, with an armful
of golden cups! Did you suppose I hadn't wit enough to see that? and
I scorned the action. There are your damned goblets, as safe as in a