Noel le Jolys came panting back with a red sword in his hand.
"Thibaut d'Aussigny is dead, sire," he said; "my hand was the hand that finished him."
Then as his eyes fell on the dead body, they shone with sudden tears. Villon went up to him and touched him on the shoulder.
"I leave this dead woman in your hands," he said, "for I think you had a kindness for her. See that she has Christian burial."
Noel bowed his head and followed in silence the girl's body. The garden was left to Louis and Villon, Tristan and Olivier, and the handful of captured rogues who stood apart, strongly guarded and stripped of their pilgrims' garb, gazing amazed at Louis and his double. Villon, silent too, looked after the little group that bore away the dead girl's body. His mind was a warfare of wild memories. Strange recollections of times and places with Huguette came crowding up and beating piteously upon his brain. He thought of what he had been, and groaned; of what he was now, and his soul cried out as in prayer in the name of Katherine.
