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him the story and pointing out the spot； while he was yet a child。 His
mother！ If he only knew where she lived； he might make sure at least of
shelter。 He determined he would inquire upon the morrow； nay； he would
go and see her； too； poor old girl！ So thinking； he arrived at his
destinationhis last hope for the night。
The house was quite dark； like its neighbours； and yet after a few taps
he heard a movement overhead； a door opening； and a cautious voice
asking who was there。 The poet named himself in a loud whisper； and
waited； not without some trepidation； the result。 Nor had he to wait long。
A window was suddenly opened； and a pailful of slops splashed down
upon the door…step。 Villon had not been unprepared for something of the
sort； and had put himself as much in shelter as the nature of the porch
admitted； but for all that he was deplorably drenched below the waist。 His
hose began to freeze almost at once。 Death from cold and exposure stared
him in the face； he remembered he was of phthisical tendency； and began
coughing tentatively。 But the gravity of the danger steadied his nerves。 He
stopped a few hundred yards from the door where he had been so rudely
used； and reflected with his finger to his nose。 He could only see one way
of getting a lodging； and that was to take it。 He had noticed a house not far
away； which looked as if it might be easily broken into； and thither he
betook himself promptly； entertaining himself on the way with the idea of
a room still hot； with a table still loaded with the remains of supper； where
he might pass the rest of the black hours； and whence he should issue； on
the morrow； with an armful of valuable plate。 He even considered on what
viands and what wines he should prefer； and as he was calling the roll of
his favourite dainties； roast fish presented itself to his mind with an odd
mixture of amusement and horror。
〃I shall never finish that ballade；〃 he thought to himself； and then； with
another shudder at the recollection； 〃Oh； damn his fat head！〃 he repeated；
fervently； and spat upon the snow。
The house in question looked dark at first sight； but as Villon made a
preliminary inspection in search of the handiest point of attack； a little
twinkle of light caught his eye from behind a curtained window。
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〃The devil！〃 he thought。 〃People awake！ Some student or some saint；
confound the crew！ Can't they get drunk and lie in bed snoring like their
neighbours？ What's the good of curfew； and poor devils of bell… ringers
jumping at a rope's end in bell…towers？ What's the use of day； if people sit
up all night？ The gripes to them！〃 He grinned as he saw where his logic
was leading him。 〃Every man to his business； after all；〃 added he； 〃and if
they're awake； by the Lord； I may come by a supper honestly for once； and
cheat the devil。〃
He went boldly to the door and knocked with an assured hand。 On
both previous occasions he had knocked timidly and with some dread of
attracting notice； but now when he had just discarded the thought of a
burglarious entry； knocking at a door seemed a mighty simple and
innocent proceeding。 The sound of his blows echoed through the house
with thin； phantasmal reverberations； as though it were quite empty； but
these had scarcely died away before a measured tread drew near； a couple
of bolts were withdrawn； and one wing was opened broadly； as though no
guile or fear of guile were known to those within。 A tall figure of a man；
muscular and spare； but a little bent； confronted Villon。 The head was
massive in bulk； but finely sculptured； the nose blunt at the bottom； but
refining upward to where it joined a pair of strong and honest eyebrows；
the mouth and eyes surrounded with delicate markings； and the whole face
based upon a thick white beard； boldly and squarely trimmed。 Seen as it
was by the light of a flickering hand… lamp； it looked perhaps nobler than
it had a right to do； but it was a fine face； honourable rather than
intelligent； strong； simple； and righteous。
〃You knock late； sir；〃 said the old man； in resonant； courteous tones。
Villon cringed； and brought up many servile words of apology； at a
crisis of this sort； the beggar was uppermost in him； and the man of genius
hid his head with confusion。
〃You are cold；〃 repeated the old man； 〃and hungry？ Well； step in。〃 And
he ordered him into the house with a noble enough gesture。
〃Some great seigneur；〃 thought Villon； as his host； setting down the
lamp on the flagged pavement of the entry； shot the bolts once more into
their places。
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〃You will pardon me if I go in front；〃 he said； when this was done； and
he preceded the poet upstairs into a large apartment； warmed with a pan of
charcoal and lit by a great lamp hanging from the roof。 It was very bare of
furniture； only some gold plate on a sideboard； some folios； and a stand of
armour between the windows。 Some smart tapestry hung upon the walls；
representing the crucifixion of our Lord in one piece； and in another a
scene of shepherds and shepherdesses by a running stream。 Over the
chimney was a shield of arms。
〃Will you seat yourself；〃 said the old man； 〃and forgive me if I leave
you？ I am alone in my house to…night； and if you are to eat I must forage
for you myself。〃
No sooner was his host gone than Villon leaped from the chair on
which he had just seated himself； and began examining the room with the
stealth and passion of a cat。 He weighed the gold flagons in his hand；
opened all the folios； and investigated the arms upon the shield； and the
stuff with which the seats were lined。 He raised the window curtains； and
saw that the windows were set with rich stained glass in figures； so far as
he could see； of martial import。 Then he stood in the middle of the room；
drew a long breath； and retaining it with puffed cheeks； looked round and
round him； turning on his heels； as if to impress every feature of the
apartment on his memory。
〃Seven pieces of plate；〃 he said。 〃If there had been ten； I would have
risked it。 A fine house； and a fine old master； so help me all the saints！〃
And just then； hearing the old man's tread returning along the corridor；
he stole back to his chair； and began humbly toasting his wet legs before
the charcoal pan。
His entertainer had a plate of meat in one hand and a jug of wine in the
other。 He set down the plate upon the table； motioning Villon to draw in
his chair； and going to the sideboard； brought back two goblets； which he
filled。
〃I drink your better fortune；〃 he said gravely； touching Villon's cup
with his own。
〃To our better acquaintance；〃 said the poet； growing bold。 A mere man
of the people would have been awed by the courtesy of the old seigneur；
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but Villon was hardened in that matter； he had made mirth for great lords
before now； and found them as black rascals as himself。 And so he devoted
himself to the viands with a ravenous gusto； while the old man； leaning
backward； watched him with steady； curious eyes。
〃You have blood on your shoulder； my man；〃 he said。
Montigny must have laid his wet right hand upon him as he left the
house。 He cursed Montigny in his heart。
〃It was none of my shedding；〃 he stammered。
〃I had not supposed so；〃 returned his host； quietly。 〃A brawl？〃
〃Well； something of that sort；〃 Villon admitted； with a quaver。
〃Perhaps a fellow murdered？〃
〃Oh no； not murdered；〃 said the poet； more and more confused。 〃It was
all fair playmurdered by accident。 I had no hand in it； God strike me
dead！〃 he added； fervently。
〃One rogue the fewer； I dare say；〃 observed the master of the house。
〃You may dare to say that；〃 agreed Villon； infinitely relieved。 〃As big
a rogue as there is between here and Jerusalem。 He turned up his toes like
a lamb。 But it was a nasty thing to look at