"Great ladies do not love tavern bravos. But I pity him, and I do not want him to die, though, indeed, life cannot be very dear to him if he would fling it away to please a woman."
She had held a rose in her hand, and as she spoke she flung it from her in dainty symbolism of the life which the poor tavern poet had risked so bravely for her sake. A mad resolve came into Villon's mind. If he was, indeed, all that this woman thought him to be, all that those with whom he had spoken had assured him he was, now was his chance to play the lover to his heart's desire. If the Grand Constable had the power to pardon, surely the Grand Constable had also the right to woo. She had drawn a little way from him and he followed her up, standing so close to her that with a little movement he might have kissed her on the cheek.
"Even when you are the woman? If I had stood in this rascal's shoes, I would have done as he did for your sake."
The girl gave a joyous cry.
"If you think this, you should grant the poor knave his freedom."
Villon flung his hands apart with a magnificent gesture of liberation.
"That broker of ballads shall go free. Your
