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Updated: June 6, 2025
The men and women gathered about him, like bees about a rose-bush. Huguette placed herself on a stool at his feet. Jehanneton flung herself full length on the ground and stared up into his face. Robin Turgis straddled a bench at some distance and grinned.
Huguette and Montigny alike had dipped their hands into their pouches for money to pay the poet's score when to the amazement of Tristan the king forestalled their kindnesses. Rising to his feet with creditable alacrity he advanced towards Master François and saluted him with a gracious wave of the hand.
He remembered what Katherine thought she had seen. "Then it was he!" he said. Huguette went on with her story. "Noel is to give us the signal by crying an owl's cry thrice." Villon was revolving many thoughts in his mind and he hardly heeded her. "This adventure of the astrologer might be turned to my advantage.
Yonder she-thing in the man's habit is Huguette du Hamel, a wild wench, whom men call the Abbess for her nunnery of light o' loves. There be four of her minions with her now, Jehanneton la belle Heaulmiere as they name her, Denise the slipper-maker, Blanche and Isabeau. Oh, they are delectable doxies!" King Louis pursed his thin lips in austere censure. "They shall be reproved hereafter," he said.
Huguette whispered sulkily, "Perhaps she never will." Isabeau came sidling and bridling up to Louis, wheedling like a cat as she said: "Our François has made a rhyme of it, sir, how he would carry himself if he wore the king's shoes." Louis was always ready for any kind of gallantry. He put his arms around the girl's slim body and drew her on to his knee. "Has he, indeed, pretty minion?" he said.
Huguette snapped at her impatiently, "Seek him and find him." Then turning to René, she cried, "Montigny, you beast!" and with her hand on her dagger, made hotly for him.
"And the incense tickled my nostrils and the painted saints sneered at me, and bits of rhymes and bits of prayers jigged in my brain and I felt as if I were drunk with some new and delectable liquor. And then she slipped out and I after her. She took the Holy Water from my fingers." Villon's voice sank reverently and Huguette took advantage of the pause.
Only Huguette remained of all the fellowship, and she turned instinctively to Villon when he crouched over the dying fire. "Will you come, François?" she whispered softly. Villon lifted his head for a moment from his hands to signify a refusal. "Nay, I am reading." Huguette blazed out at him a fierce "You lie!" which failed to move the poet from his melancholy resolve.
"Take that fellow and hang him on the nearest lantern," and as he spoke he swooned. Promptly the captain turned towards his prisoner. "Take that fellow outside and hang him," he commanded curtly. Villon glanced wildly about for a way to escape and saw none. His friends gave a groan of sympathy, but they could do no more, for the soldiers overawed them. Huguette flung her arms about him, sobbing.
Villon tried to stay her questions. "What are you doing here, Abbess?" "The fair fool Noel has taken a week-long fancy to me, and I am making an age-long fool of him. Kiss me," she urged, putting her face very near to Villon's. Villon drew back his head. "You should keep your kisses for the fair fool Noel." Huguette drew away from him angrily.
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