"There, mammy, there is a pretty prayer for you."
Mother Villon was dissolved in tears and sobbed on his shoulder.
"You should have been a good man," she said.
Villon stroked her hair very gently.
"We are as Heaven pleases, dear." He paused for a moment, then suddenly remembering the silver coin which he had confiscated from the king, he dipped his fingers into his pouch and produced it.
"Here is something for you, mammy," he said, and as the old woman, with a faint flush on her worn cheeks, seemed about to protest, he insisted. "Oh, yes. Take it, take it. It was honestly come by, and you will spend it more honestly than I should." He forced the coin into her lean, brown hand, and added, "Now run away, mammy, and pray yourself to sleep, You shall see me soon, I promise you."
He led her gently across the tavern floor to the door, which he opened for her. As she turned to go, she looked up to him and repeated two lines of his prayer:
In thy belief to live and die."
As the door closed and Villon turned to come back to his seat, Jehan le Loup, who had been eyeing him
