The king's keen glance surveyed the scene with no sign of fear and
no sign of annoyance. Leaning easily upon the railing, as a man
might lean who surveyed an amusing farce or interlude, he addressed
the crowd:
"Good people of Paris, you have heard your Grand Constable pronounce
sentence upon a criminal. Has Master Fran?ois Villon any reason to
urge, any plea to offer, why the sentence should not be carried
out?"
Villon waved his hand disdainfully.
"I have nothing whatever to say, sire. Fran?ois Villon must die.
It's bad luck for him, but he has worse luck and so--to business."
As he spoke he drew near to the line of Scottish archers and two of
their number laid hands on him, one at either side. The sight of
their hero thus in the very clutch of justice spurred the multitude
to Ren?wed exasperation. Angry demands for justice, for mercy, for
rescue, shook the summer air. Unarmed citizens broke into an
armourer's shop hard by, and, seizing whatever weapons they could
lay their hands upon, flourished them aloft in significant assertion
that their words were but the prefaces to deeds. Again Tabarie's
bull voice bellowed to those about him:
"Kings must listen to the voice of the people.
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