comfortable fashion after all; and he felt morally certain of a

safe departure on the morrow.

"Tell me one thing," said the old man, pausing in his walk. "Are

you really a thief?"

"I claim the sacred rights of hospitality," returned the poet. "My

lord, I am."

"You are very young," the knight continued.

"I should never have been so old," replied Villon, showing his

fingers, "if I had not helped myself with these ten talents. They

have been my nursing mothers and my nursing fathers."

"You may still repent and change."

"I repent daily," said the poet. "There are few people more given

to repentance than poor Francis. As for change, let somebody

change my circumstances. A man must continue to eat, if it were

only that he may continue to repent."

"The change must begin in the heart," returned the old man

solemnly.

"My dear lord," answered Villon, "do you really fancy that I steal

for pleasure? I hate stealing, like any other piece of work or of

danger. My teeth chatter when I see a gallows. But I must eat, I

must drink, I must mix in society of some sort. What the devil!

Man is not a solitary animal - CUI DEUS FAEMINAM TRADIT. Make me

king's pantler - make me abbot of St. Denis; make me bailly of the

Patatrac; and then I shall be changed indeed. But as long as you

leave me the poor scholar Francis Villon, without a farthing, why,

of course, I remain the same."

"The grace of God is all-powerful."

"I should be a heretic to question it," said Francis. "It has made

you lord of Brisetout and bailly of the Patatrac; it has given me

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