"
A sudden, wonderful thought flashed through Villon's mind. He had
won love, he could not hope to win life, but at least he might so
manage as to die a soldier's death and not a knave's. He whispered
to her eagerly:
"Then we will spoil old Louis' pleasure yet. Lore, will you marry me
here at the foot of the gallows?"
She answered him:
"With all my heart."
Instantly he turned and left her and strode towards the throne.
"King, I crave your patience, but your sentence must tarry and turn,
for I claim to marry this lady."
Louis smiled derisively.
"It is too late. Sing your neck-rhyme and have done, for your noose
is too large for a wedding ring."
Villon gave him back smile for smile.
"Sire," he said, "I am a Master of Arts of the University of Paris
and as such have the right in extremis to any sacrament of the
church. I have lived a confirmed bachelor, but now I have a mind to
change my state. Find me a priest, King Louis."
Olivier stooped to the king.
"He speaks the truth, sire. He can claim this right"
Louis leaned forward interested.
"What do you hope to gain by this?"
Villon answered calmly:
"The right to die like a soldier by the sword, not like a rogue by
the rope.
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