She
sails in the high latitudes of lore and deserves to find the
Fortunate Islands. Are there not better things to do with Master
Villon than to hang him?"
Olivier protested:
"This Villon is such a damnable double dealer that the ass-headed
populace loves him better than you."
The king's visage soured.
"That is enough to hang him. Yet I have a kind of liking for the
fellow, and my dream troubles me--the star that fell from heaven."
Tristan commented bluffly:
"Hang the rascal while you can and thank heaven you are well rid of
him."
Even as he spoke the world seemed suddenly to be full of many noises
and many voices. From beyond the gate on the ways that led to the
city walls came the clamour of hoarse shouts and cries and the
thudding din of running feet. From the other side, from the street
that led to the Louvre, came the ordered tramp of soldiers.
Olivier interpreting one interruption, said:
"The people are coming from the walls."
And Tristan interpreted the other.
"The queen, sire," he announced.
Through the narrow space that led into the open square there came a
line of soldiers escorting a number of splendidly caparisoned
litters--the carriages of the queen and the queen's chief ladies.
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