Villon leaned forward, oddly interested in the grotesque turn of
things which put him in this position with his old companion and
fellow-scamp.
"You are--" he questioned.
Montigny answered angrily,
"Ren? de Montigny, of gentle blood, fallen on ungentle days."
"Through no fault of your own, of course?"
"As your grace surmises, through no fault of my own. I am poor, but,
I thank my stars, I am honest."
This remark, which was made aloud for the benefit of all and sundry,
provoked a roar of laughter from Guy Tabarie which was promptly
converted into a groan as an indignant soldier smote him into
silence by a lusty blow on the back. Villon caught him up on the
assertion.
"Since when, sir? Since last night?"
"I do not understand your grace."
"When Jason was a farmer in Colchis he sowed dragons' teeth and
reaped soldiers. What do you grow in your garden, Sire de Montigny?"
Montigny gave a little start of surprise but his answer came prompt.
"Cabbages."
Villon shook his head. "Arrows, Master Ren?, Burgundian arrows, most
condemnable vegetables. Have a care! 'Tis a pestilent crop and may
poison the gardener.
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