Those seconds of strange intimacy seemed to be
worth all the rest of his life--and now they had come to an end. Now
he had to show that he deserved them. "Good," he said, and leaving
her side he softly descended the stairs, crept cat-foot across the
tavern floor and insinuated himself dexterously into the society of
his friends, who were by this time far too mad and merry to show any
surprise at his sudden re-appearance, or to question whence he came.
Only one of the fellowship was away from the board--Ren? de
Montigny, who had risen as soon as the soldier had taken his seat by
the fireplace, and had come down to greet him in a seemingly
careless, off-hand fashion. Villon dexterously moving from friend to
friend managed to niche himself by the back of the settle where he
could catch some of the words that passed between Montigny and the
stranger, whose meeting was also the subject of unsuspected scrutiny
on the part of the unassuming burgesses who sat apart and to whom no
one now gave heed.
"A fine evening, friend," Montigny said affably.
"Pretty fine for the time of year," the soldier answered. "How is
your garden, friend?"
Montigny smiled whimsically.
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