In the sudden bliss that had come upon both the lovers they paid no heed to a footstep upon the terrace, till a voice struck like a sword-stroke across their ecstasy, the voice of Noel le Jolys.
"Where are the lovers of yesterday?" Noel said mockingly as he slowly descended the steps to join them.
There was a red rage in Villon's heart, but he bridled it as he turned upon the interloper contemptuously.
"Your pink and white lady-bird," he said to Katherine, and then waving his hand at Noel with a gesture of disdain and dismissal, chanted at him:
"Lady-bird, lady-bird, fly away home."
Noel's pink face flushed a poppy red and his white hand went to his sword hilt. There was courage in the foppish substance, and he would clearly have rejoiced to try his chance in a passage-at-arms.
"My lord," he said, "I will measure word and sword with you at any season, but now I seek promised speech with this lady."
Villon laughed at his menace.
"While I have better business in hand, you shall know only the smooth of my tongue and the flat of my falchion. Compass your swelling heart lest you play the lion before a lady."
