whimsical throne. The poet sprang lightly upon the perch thus
provided for him, and sat there with his legs crossed, holding his
long sword against his knees with both hands. The men and women
gathered about him, like bees about a rose-bush. Huguette placed
herself on a stool at his feet. Jehanneton flung herself full length
on the ground and stared up into his face. Robin Turgis straddled a
bench at some distance and grinned. Louis seized the opportunity to
whisper behind his hand to Tristan that he found the fellow
diverting, to which Tristan replied gruffly that he for his part
found him a dull ape. Louis might have argued the point but his
interest was claimed by the voice of Villon, who, being comfortably
installed on his wine-cask, was beginning his promised narrative. A
philosopher would have discerned something pathetic in the picture
of the ragged rascal thus girdled about with blackguards of a baser
sort, his lean body quivering, his eager face alive with emotions,
mockery on his lips and sorrow in his eyes: to the sardonic king it
afforded nothing more and nothing less than amusement. "You must
know, dear Devils and ever-beautiful Blowens, that three days ago,
when I was lying in the kennel, which is my humour, and staring at
the sky, which is my recreation--I speak, honest citizen, but in
parable or allegory, a dear device with the schoolmen--I saw between
me and Heaven the face of a lady, the loveliest face I ever saw."

Here the poor Abbess, indignation overcrowding her borrowed
mannishness, began to sniffle and to assert that the speaker was a
faithless pig, but Villon, unheeding her whimpers, went on with
his tale.

"She was going to church--God shield her--but she looked my way as
she passed, and though she saw me no more than she saw the