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Updated: May 18, 2025
"I will give you no more than good-bye," she said, and turned to leave him, but Villon caught her by the arm. "You shall not show me your heels till I show myself your face," he insisted. Before the girl could prevent him, he had flung back her hood and snatched the mask from her face.
If you understood your words, you would repent them." Villon turned out his hands with a gesture of inimitable impudence. "If your lordship had done me the honour to follow my argument!" he said. "I do you too much honour in submitting to your presence," said the knight.
Perhaps he was not yet quite settled in his mind about the parallel between thieves and soldiers; perhaps Villon had interested him by some cross-thread of sympathy; perhaps his wits were simply muddled by so much unfamiliar reasoning; but whatever the cause, he somehow yearned to convert the young man to a better way of thinking, and could not make up his mind to drive him forth again into the street.
Gaston Cheverny and I made bold to correct Count Saxe's theology, but he called us a couple of cheek turners, and declared he knew that the Psalmist, as well as Bourdaloue, had the Courlanders in mind when he denounced liars and hypocrites. Next to sermons my master liked the verses and songs of that rogue of rogues, François Villon.
And all the more if he has put his head in the halter for it; if he may be hanged to-morrow for that same purse, so dearly earned, so foolishly departed! Villon stood and cursed; he threw the two whites into the street; he shook his fist at heaven; he stamped, and was not horrified to find himself trampling the poor corpse.
There was Villon, Marmon, Gabriel, and Gouloir, and all their sons; and they all said the same at the last, 'Mon grand homme de Calvaire bon soir! Then there was little Jean, the pretty little Jean. He could not row a boat, but he could ride a horse, and he had an eye like me. Ha, ha! I have seen them all say good-night.
God knows where! and I fear me the devil knows too. Montigny was hung in '57, Tabary in '58, and Cayeux, Cayeux of the light heart and lighter fingers, went by the same path two years later: I only am left. They said I killed a man and would have hung me me! Francois Villon! Certainly a man died or there would be no Villon now: it was either he or I, and they would have hung me."
"Dey can do vot dey like; dey von't get to de bottom of de vell. Dat Villon is sharp; he vill know how to keep his tongue still; dey can prove nothing; dey may give de sack to a stable-boy, or dey may think themselves mighty bright in seeing a mare's nest, but dey vill never come to us." The welsher gave a loud, hoarse guffaw of relish and enjoyment. "No!
As Francois Villon, the French poet would undoubtedly have said had manicures been known at the time he was writing his poems, "Where are the manicures of yesterday?" instead of making it, "Where are the snows of yesteryear?" there being no answer ready for either question, except that the manicures of yesterday like the snows of yesteryear are never there when you start looking for them.
I admit that, in the absence of evidence, we have no right to accuse Villon of deliberate murder. But it is the absence of evidence that acquits him, not the fact that he killed his victim with a stone as well as a dagger. Nor does it seem to, me quite fair to blame, as Mr. Stacpoole does by implication, the cold and beautiful Katherine de Vaucelles for Villon's moral downfall.
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