To the superstitious, trifles are the giants of
destiny, and the king's escapade of the previous evening had taken a
firm hold on his fancy. The picturesque blackguard who had mouthed
so gallantly his desire to reign over France and save her would in
any case have tickled the king's taste for the eccentric, but when
the encounter with the poet came upon the heels of the king's
strange dream and was followed by the vague prognostications of the
star-gazer, the business loomed majestic in his eyes. He had always
before his mind the memory of the radiant, saintly maiden who had
come like a messenger from heaven to help his father when his
father's fortunes seemed to be in the very dust, and it was in all
seriousness that he permitted himself to hope and almost to believe
that some such succour might be vouchsafed him from the fantastic
rhymester who had so lately hectored him in tho Fircone Tavern. As
the king lifted his eyes a fairer form than that of Villon's was
impressed upon his consciousness and yet the sight only served to
strengthen the current of the king's thoughts.
A very beautiful girl, tall, stately, imperious, was coming down one
of the roseways with her arms full of the great crimson blossoms.
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