Bullies and bawds, pandars and parasites: to enumerate their
offenses would be to say the Decalogue backward."
"You have a pithy humour, gossip," and Louis grinned. "Our gallows
shall be busy anon."
Tristan was abcut to open his mouth in approval of a sentiment so
pleasing to his ears when his words and his purpose were alike
arrested by a sound of a voice singing outside the tavern door.
The voice was a man's voice, something rough and strained for fine
music, and yet with a kind of full and florid sweetness that carried
the words clearly through the red-curtained windows. They seemed to
make a complaint of Fortune:
"Since I have left the prison gate
Where I came near to say good-bye
To this poor life that needs must fly
From the malignity of Fate,
Perchance she now will pass me by
Since I have left the prison gate."
If the king pricked his ear to listen, and even Tristan moved a
little in his lethargy, the effect of the song upon the company of
gamblers was instant and pronounced. The Abbess leaped to her feet,
crying out: "It is the voice of Fran?ois!" "It is indeed his own
unutterable pipe," agreed Ren? de Montigny, sweeping his winnings
into his pouch.
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