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Updated: June 4, 2025
THIBAUT. Oh, the unblest, the lamentable strife, Which turns the arms of France against itself! BERTRAND. E'en she, the mother-queen, proud Isabel Bavaria's haughty princess may be seen, Arrayed in armor, riding through the camp; With poisonous words of irony she fires The hostile troops to fury 'gainst her son, Whom she hath clasped to her maternal breast.
"Lend me a cudgel, some one," and he looked around as if seeking for the weapon he asked for..Villon snatched up a mug and flung the heel taps in the soldier's face, spotting his cheeks with drops of crimson that trickled on to his breast plate. With a choking cry of rage Thibaut dragged his sword into the air. "You fool," he hissed, "I'll kill you!"
Madame Chalumeau, whose bright blue dress was very tight and warm, wiped her face on her handkerchief. Brigit looked round in despair. It was horrible; the heat, the smell of food, the clatter of knives and forks. For a long time she heard nothing, and then found that M. Thibaut the Mayor was trying to persuade Victor to play.
"A fair fight, good captain, conducted according to the honourable laws of sword and lantern." The captain of the watch turned his attention to Thibaut, who, assisted by one of the soldiers, had raised himself upon one elbow and was glaring vindictively at Villon. "Who is this man?" he asked. A desire for revenge got the better of the wounded man's discretion.
Burgundy won't hurt you if you do as he bids you. I won't hurt you if you do as I bid you." The black figure rocked, a pitiable bundle of terrors, apparently sobbing plaintively. Thibaut sickened at such shameless fear. "Stop crying," he growled. René de Montigny, who had been watching keenly the actions of the prisoner, interrupted: "He seems to be laughing," he said.
THIBAUT. Hast thou beheld my child? My wretched child? Didst thou observe her? RAIMMOND. I entreat you, fly! THIBAUT. Didst mark her tottering and uncertain steps, Her countenance, so pallid and disturbed? She feels her dreadful state; the hour is come To save my child, and I will not neglect it. RAIMOND. What would you do?
Barre was now ordered to send some of the monks present to the castle, accompanied by a magistrate and a clerk. Barre chose the Carmelite prior, and the bailiff Charles Chauvet, assessor of the bailiwick, Ismael Boulieau a priest, and Pierre Thibaut, an articled clerk, who all set out at once to execute their commission, while the rest of those present were to await their return.
"Let him alone, François; he's not what he seems." "Seems! Who cares what he seems?" Villon shouted. "It's what he is I want to know. Perhaps he's not an honest soldier at all. Perhap's he's a damned Burgundian spy!" Thibaut lifted his hand to crush Villon, but the poet's naked dagger menaced him and he paused. "Fling this drunken dog into the street," he commanded angrily.
Villon swayed with laughter as he pointed to the bewildered giant. "Wonders, sire," he answered. "I have not laughed so heartily since I attained greatness." But even as he spoke Thibaut had recovered his wits. He might be defeated but he would not be unavenged. "You shall laugh no more!" he shouted, wrenching himself free from restraint, and he sprang at his enemy with lifted dagger.
Madame Chalumeau, whose eyes were fixed on M. Bouillard as he sat far down one of the tables, dropped her knife to the ground, and disappearing under the table in search of it, gave her head a terrible thump, and emerged scarlet and agonised. "Someone ought to propose a toast!" suggested Théo, "I suppose M. Thibaut, father?" Victor nodded absently. "Yes, or M. le curé."
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