answered him sweetly.

"No, old Queernabs, unless there's an alms-box to open or a matter
of gold plate to pilfer." Guy Tabarie hurriedly interrupted him with
a warning cry of "Cave!" and a significant glance at the strangers,
but Villon derided his fears.

"Nonsense," he cried, leaning forward and playfully slapping Louis
on the back with his sword. "This good Cuffin has a friendly face
and can take a joke. Can't you, old rabbit?"

Louis winced and then grinned as Tristan gasped in anger. "I thank
Heaven I have a sense ot humour," he said, with a sly glance at his
companion. Villon went on with his story.

"Well, I sprawled there in the dark, with my knees on the cold
ground, and all the while the sound of her beauty was sweet in my
ears, and the taste of her beauty was salt on my lips, and the pain
of her beauty was gnawing at my heart, and I prayed that I might see
her again."

At this point Huguette, who had been following the narrative with a
feline ferocity, caught up a wine-jug and made to throw it at the
poet's head, but was dexterously disarmed by Guy Tabarie before the
vessel had time to quit her fingers. Sulkily she plumped herself
down on her stool again, while Villon, quite unconscious of the
averted peril, rambled on dreamily.

"And the incense tickled my nostrils and the painted saints sneered
at me, and bits of rhymes and bits of prayers jigged in my brain and