"You are a civil stranger, and I will so far honour you." Louis
bowed. "I left my purse under my pillow this morning"--a roar of
laughter saluted the ancient jape--"and this ungentle fellow denies
me credit. How rarely we meet with an ale-draper who is also a
gentleman."

With an unmoved countenance Louis listened to Villon's words. "Yet
the sale of a thing so noble ought to beget a kind of nobility in
the vendor," he said with great gravity; then turning to Robin
Turgis, whose mouth was gaping at this colloquy, he bade him bring a
flagon of his best, and as he did so he tendered him a silver coin
for which Robin extended his fat fingers--and extended them too
late. For at the sight of the silver the eyes of Master François had
glistened, and his lean, brown hand, swift and agile as a hawk, had
swooped between the king and the publican, and had secured the coin,
which he promptly held up and surveyed in an apparent ecstasy of
admiration.

"Is this the good king's counter?" he asked, and as he did so he
plucked off his shabby bonnet and paid the exalted coin a profound
obeisance. "Well, God bless his majesty, say I, for I owe him my
present liberty. There was a gaol-clearing when he came to Paris,
and as I happened to be in gaol at the time--through an error of the
law"--here he paused to leer knowingly at his comrades, who yelled
commendation--"they were good enough to kick me into the free air.
Will you add to your kindness, old gentleman"--and here Master
François spun round and solemnly saluted his unknown
entertainer--"by allowing me to guard and cherish this token of our
dear monarch in memory of this notable event?"