inst the
back of the chair. He was now replete and warm; and he was in no wise
frightened for his host, having gauged him as justly as was possible
between two such different characters. The night was far spent, and in
a very 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 foeminam tradit_. Make me king's pantler, make me
Abbot of St. Denis, make me bailie 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 bailie of the Patatrac; it has given me nothing
but the quick wits under my hat and these ten toes upon my hands. May I
help myself to wine? I thank you respectfully. By God's grace, you have
a very superior vintage."

The lord of Brisetout walked to and fro with his hands behind his back.
Perhaps he was not yet quite settled in his mind about the parallel
between thieves and soldiers; perhaps Villon had interested him by some
cross-thread of sympathy; perhaps his wits were simply muddled by so
much unfamiliar reasoning; but whatever the cause, he somehow yearned to
convert the young man to a better way of thinking, and could not make up
his mind to drive him forth again into the street.

"There