She came cautiously forward
and touched Tristan, who was nearest to her, on the shoulder. He
swung round, with hooded face, to answer the challenge, and as he
did so Louis took advantage of his turned back to examine Tristan's
hand, which he had laid upon the table, and to substitute a card
from his own hand for one of his adversary's.
"Has Master Fran?ois Villon been here to-night?" the woman asked.
Her voice was full and sweet, and Tristan knew it well though he
listened unmovably. She had lowered her cloak enough to allow him a
glimpse of a young, lovely face, but he needed no, glimpse to assure
him.
"Yonder he squats by the hearth," he answered, masking his own voice
with hoarseness and jerking his thumb towards the settle. The girl's
eyes followed the signal and saw for the first time the huddled
figure on the bench. "I thank you," she said simply, and moved away
into the background, her eyes fixed on the crouching form, her
fingers clasped nervously, waiting an impatient patience upon
resolution.
Tristan leaned hurriedly over to the king.
"Zounds, sire! do you know who that was?"
Louis, smiling at his adopted cards, answered carelessly, "Some
bonaroba who took you for a gull," but Tristan's nest words pricked
him from his indifference.
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