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Updated: June 8, 2025
Paris swarms before us, full of famine, shame, and death; monks and the servants of great lords hold high wassail upon cakes and pastry; the poor man licks his lips before the baker's window; people with patched eyes sprawl all night under the stalls; chuckling Tabary transcribes an improper romance; bare-bosomed lasses and ruffling students swagger in the streets; the drunkard goes stumbling homewards; the graveyard is full of bones; and away on Montfaucon, Colin de Cayeux and Montigny hang draggled in the rain.
Yes, there were four of us, Montigny, Tabary, Cayeux, poor snows of yester year sucked down by the cold earth. But while the blood was warm in our veins we four were as one with one purse.
Montigny and Tabary dumbly demanded a share of the booty, which the monk silently promised as he passed the little bag into the bosom of his gown. In many ways an artistic nature unfits a man for practical existence. No sooner had the theft been accomplished than Villon shook himself, jumped to his feet, and began helping to scatter and extinguish the embers.
He had been in prison in Rouen, in Tours, in Bordeaux, and four times already in Paris; and out of all these he had come scatheless; but now he must make a little excursion as far as Montfaucon with Henry Cousin, executor of high justice. There let him swing among the carrion crows. About a year later, in July 1458, the police laid hands on Tabary.
The black dog was on his back, as people say, in terrifying nursery metaphor; and he breathed hard under the gruesome burden. "He looks as if he could knife him," whispered Tabary, with round eyes. The monk shuddered, and turned his face and spread his open hands to the red embers. It was the cold that thus affected Dom Nicolas, and not any excess of moral sensibility
Tabary was the last to help himself; he made a dash at the money, and retired to the other end of the apartment. Montigny stuck Thevenin upright in the chair, and drew out the dagger, which was followed by a jet of blood. "You fellows had better be moving," he said, as he wiped the blade on his victim's doublet. "I think we had," returned Villon with a gulp. "Damn his fat head!" he broke out.
You'll wish you knew none of it at the great assizes, when the devil calls for Guido Tabary, clericus the devil with the humpback and red-hot finger-nails. Talking of the devil," he added, in a whisper, "look at Montigny!" All three peered covertly at the gamester. He did not seem to be enjoying his luck. His mouth was a little to a side; one nostril nearly shut, and the other much inflated.
As for Tabary, a broad, complacent, admiring imbecility breathed from his squash nose and slobbering lips: he had become a thief, just as he might have become the most decent of burgesses, by the imperious chance that rules the lives of human geese and human donkeys. At the monk's other hand, Montigny and Thevenin Pensete played a game of chance.
A flat smile illuminated his face; his bald head shone rosily in a garland of red curls; his little protuberant stomach shook with silent chucklings as he swept in his gains. "Doubles or quits?" said Thevenin. Montigny nodded grimly. "Some may prefer to dine in state," wrote Villon, "On bread and cheese on silver plate. Or or help me out, Guido!" Tabary giggled.
The black dog was on his back, as people say, in terrifying nursery metaphor; and he breathed hard under the gruesome burden. "He looks as if he could knife him," whispered Tabary, with round eyes. The monk shuddered, and turned his face and spread his open hands to the red embers. It was the cold that thus affected Dom Nicolas, and not any excess of moral sensibility.
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