from the fellow of the Fircone. He saluted her banteringly.
"Though I be newly come to Paris I have heard much of the beauty and more of the pride of the Lady Katherine de Vaucelles."
A little fire burned in the girl's pale cheeks, and she flung her head back scornfully.
"I am humble enough as to my beauty, but I am very proud of my pride."
Villon, leaning forward with entreating hands, pleaded with beseeching lips.
"Would you pity me if I told you that I loved you?"
Katherine laughed, and the music of her laughter seemed to wake faint echoes among the roses as if every blossom were a magic bell with a fairy hand at the clapper.
"Heaven's mercy," she said. "How fast your fancy gallops. I care little to be flattered and less to be wooed, and I swear that I should be very hard to win."
She turned to mount the steps as she spoke, as if she had said all that she wanted to say, but Villon delayed her with imploring protest.
"I have more right to try than your taproom bandit. I see what he saw; I love what he loved."
