Louis' fortitude could not prevent him from making something of a
wry face as he hastily answered, "By all means." He beckoned
discreetly to Robin Turgis, who, making a wide circle round Master
François, stole to the king's side, received from him another coin
and hastened away to bring the drink it paid for.

From his corner Tristan surveyed the episode with a grim enjoyment.
"Master Villon, Master Villon," he murmured to himself, "you'll be
sorry for this, very sorry indeed." And in his mind's eye he
transferred the fantastic figure, posturing and grimacing before
Louis, to the end of a long rope hanging from a high gallows. Master
François, ignorant of the immediate irony of existence, wafted a
kiss airily from the tips of his fingers to his patron. "You are a
very obliging old gentleman," he said approvingly.

Louis frowned slightly. "You harp on my age, sir," he said. "Yet you
are yourself no chicken." This mild reproof seemed to irritate
Villon's friends more than it irritated Villon. The men manifested a
marked inclination to hustle so questioning a citizen; the women
cackled at him angrily. Casin Cholet bluntly proposed to lend the
cit a slap on the chops; and Huguette enquired with every emphasis
of impoliteness: "What's his age to you, sobersides?" But Villon
quietly waved his turbulent companions into tranquility. "Patience,
damsels," he said blandly. "Patience, good comrades of the
Cockleshell. If our friend is inquisitive at least he has paid his
fee," and as he spoke he hid his face for a moment behind the huge
mug of Beaune wine which Robin Turgis at that moment handed to him.
Much refreshed by his mighty draught he resumed briskly: "For three
and thirty years I have taken toll of life with such result as you