Villon contradicted her instantly.
"Never in my life, mammy. I have a fool's head and always get into my altitudes too soon."
Then, seeing the look of disappointment that made her grey old face look greyer still,—he added, "I cannot come home just now, mammy, but there is something I can do for you. Do you remember when I was a little child"
Something in the words made him stop suddenly. The hideous contrast between the phrase and the place wherein he was, between the mother who fondled him and the wild men-savages and women-savages who were his daily friends and who were drinking and dicing behind him at the other side of the settle, came upon him like a great wave of pain and knocked the mirth out of him. He turned away from his mother and repeated to himself dismally, "God! when I was a little child!" The mother's pity, the mother's protection immediately asserted themselves.
"You were the prettiest child woman ever bore," she said, softly.
Villon turned towards her again, while he tried to wink the tears out of his eyes.
"You used to sing me to sleep," he said, and as he spoke he rocked her slowly backward and forward
