Now he knew himself and what he had done and what he must
do. A divine farce had turned to sudden tragedy. He turned to the
king with a groan.
"Cheat, lie," he repeated. "Sire, those words fling me from my
fool's paradise. Kill me if I fail to win her, but I will tear this
mask from my face, this falsehood from my heart."
Louis grinned at him.
"Please yourself. Win her or swing. Either way contents me."
As he spoke, he turned away. Katherine had descended the steps and
was moving across the grass to greet her hero, who stood with
clasped hands in the moonlight like a man struck dumb. Katherine was
carrying in her hands a crimson scarf fringed with gold, and she
lifted it to him as she spoke.
"Wear this with my prayers. With it, I give you my hand and heart.
You shall carry my plighted troth with you into the battle. Let me
tell my love to all the world."
Swiftly and lightly she threw it about his neck before he could find
words, but now he spoke:
"Wait, wait! You must say no more until you know me."
The girl's eyes widened with surprise.
"Do I not know you?"
Villon thrust his face forward very close to hers.
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