"It was your majesty's kinswoman, the Lady Katherine de Vaucelles."
The king rose cautiously to his feet.
"Oh, ho, Oh, ho!" he chuckled. "Does lovely Katherine come to meet
Thibaut?"
"She seeks Fran?ois Villon, sire."
The king started.
"Is she the girl he spoke of? Do we catch her tripping?"
Louis looked at the motionless figure of the girl, then his gaze
travelled rapidly around the room. Behind him was a doorway.
Soundlessly he opened it, saw that it gave on to a dark passage,
motioned Tristan through it, bade him in a whisper to wait in the
darkness. As Tristan disappeared the girl seemed to make up her mind
and moved slowly across the floor toward the dozing poet. The king
watched her narrowly as he, too, began to move, skulking among the
shadows along the wall. His goal was the distant space behind the
settle, where his cunning mind discerned a good listening place--for
to listen was Louis' passion. The king's cread was cat-quiet--the
king's breath was mouse-still; for a moment he paused at the
street-door as if about to pass out, but seeing that he was
unnoticed he drifted unheeded through obscurity to his haven and
nestled there just as the girl, bending forward, touched the sleeper
firmly on the shoulders and then drew back, defiantly abiding by her
temerity.
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