"There goes a brave lady, gossips, a fair lady, a chaste lady. She sails in the high latitudes of lore and deserves to find the Fortunate Islands. Are there not better things to do with Master Villon than to hang him?"
Olivier protested:
"This Villon is such a damnable double dealer that the ass-headed populace loves him better than you."
The king's visage soured.
"That is enough to hang him. Yet I have a kind of liking for the fellow, and my dream troubles me—the star that fell from heaven."
Tristan commented bluffly:
"Hang the rascal while you can and thank heaven you are well rid of him."
Even as he spoke the world seemed suddenly to be full of many noises and many voices. From beyond the gate on the ways that led to the city walls came the clamour of hoarse shouts and cries and the thudding din of running feet. From the other side, from the street that led to the Louvre, came the ordered tramp of soldiers.
Olivier interpreting one interruption, said:
"The people are coming from the walls."
And Tristan interpreted the other.
