I am the king of
the Cockleshells and I have returned to authority. Give me your
pilgrim's gown, girl, and mind, not a word to the brotherhood. I
want to take friend Thibaut by surprise."
As he spoke, he pulled off the pilgrim's gown, and Huguette stood
before him in her familiar boy's dress of green.
"Hide among the roses until the sport begins," he cried.
The girl flung her arms about him.
"Dear Fran?ois!" she cried, and then ran swiftly away from him and
disappeared into the rose-scented night.
Villon looked after the girl as she ran.
"The girl is as fleet as a hare and as wild witted," he said to
himself. Then he flung Huguette from his thoughts and faced the
great problem.
"How does the balance go?" he asked himself, and he weighed the air
with his hands as if their cups held the precious things he spoke
of.
"In the one hand, a great king's life; in the other, a poor poet's
honour. King, beggar, beggar, king."
He paused a moment, looking down the long lane of infinite
possibilities. He owed nothing to Louis after all. Louis had made
him the plaything of a shameless trick; had thrust honour upon him
in mockery; had tantalized him with a dream of a dream.
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