lonely hillside.

"But also I am, Heaven forgive me, a jingler of rhymes, with the
stars for my candles and the roses for my toys, and singers of songs
sometimes love in another fashion. And so it has chanced to me for
my sins and to my sorrow."

Villon's chin had dropped upon his breast; the cock's feather
drooped dismally; the singer seemed quite chapfallen. Huguette,
tired of glaring at her offending minions, again turned her scornful
attention to her dejected lover. "Cry-baby!" she sneered scornfully,
pointing with derisive finger at Master François, in whose eyes
indeed the close observer could discern the threatening of tears.
Jehanneton came sidling round to Villon, piqued by natural
curiosity, and the desire to vex Huguette. "Tell us your love-tale,
François," she pleaded, and her pleading found an immediate
supporter in Louis. The Arabian nature of his adventure enchanted
him, and he had a child's taste for a story. "May I support the
lady's prayer," he said, "unless a stranger's presence distresses
you?"

Villon turned to him with a mocking laugh. "Lord love you, no," he
answered. "I have long since forgotten reticence and will discourse
of my empty purse, my empty belly, and my empty heart to any man.
Gather around me, cullions and cut-purses, and listen to the strange
adventure of Master François Villon, clerk of Paris."

Joyous applause greeted his speech, Jehan le Loup, seizing upon an
empty barrel that stood in a corner, trundled it forward, and
standing it on one end invited Villon to take his seat upon this