The Lord of Montcorbier was, indeed,
wardered by very different stars from the fellow of the Fircone. He
saluted her banteringly.
"Though I be newly come to Paris I have heard much of the beauty and
more of the pride of the Lady Katherine de Vaucelles."
A little fire burned in the girl's pale cheeks, and she flung her
head back scornfully.
"I am humble enough as to my beauty, but I am very proud of my
pride."
Villon, leaning forward with entreating hands, pleaded with
beseeching lips.
"Would you pity me if I told you that I loved you?"
Katherine laughed, and the music of her laughter seemed to wake
faint echoes among the roses as if every blossom were a magic bell
with a fairy hand at the clapper.
"Heaven's mercy," she said. "How fast your fancy gallops. I care
little to be flattered and less to be wooed, and I swear that I
should be very hard to win."
She turned to mount the steps as she spoke, as if she had said all
that she wanted to say, but Villon delayed her with imploring
protest.
"I have more right to try than your taproom bandit. I see what he
saw; I love what he loved."
Again the girl's laughter brightened the summer air.
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