I was not done with my discourse when a book was brought in from Judge Methuen; the interruption was a pleasant one. ``I was too busy last evening,’’ writes the judge, ``to bring you this volume which I picked up in a La Salle street stall yesterday.  I know your love for the scallawag Villon, so I am sure you will fancy the lines which, evidently, the former owner of this book has scribbled upon the fly-leaf.’’ Fancy them?  Indeed I do; and if you dote on the ``scallawag’’ as I dote on him you also will declare that our anonymous poet has not wrought ill.

FrancoisVillon

If I were Francois Villon and Francois Villon I,
What would it matter to me how the time might drag or fly? 
He would in sweaty anguish toil the days and nights away,
And still not keep the prowling, growling, howling wolf at bay! 
But, with my valiant bottle and my frouzy brevet-bride,
And my score of loyal cut-throats standing guard for me outside,
What worry of the morrow would provoke a casual sigh
If I were Francois Villon and Francois Villon I?

If I were Francois Villon and Francois Villon I, To yonder gloomy boulevard at midnight I would hie; ``Stop, stranger! and deliver your possessions, ere you feel The mettle of my bludgeon or the temper of my steel!’’ He should give me gold and diamonds, his snuff-box and his cane—­ ``Now back, my boon companions, to our bordel with our gain!’’ And, back within that brothel, how the bottles they would fly, If I were Francois Villon and Francois Villon I!

If I were Francois Villon and Francois Villon I, We both would mock the gibbet which the law has lifted high; he in his meagre, shabby home, I in my roaring den—­ he with his babes around him, I with my hunted men!  His virtue be his bulwark—­my genius should be mine!—­ ``Go, fetch my pen, sweet Margot, and a jorum of your wine!

. . . . . . .

  So would one vainly plod, and one win immortality—­
  If I were Francois Villon and Francois Villon I!

My acquaintance with Master Villon was made in Paris during my second visit to that fascinating capital, and for a while I was under his spell to that extent that I would read no book but his, and I made journeys to Rouen, Tours, Bordeaux, and Poitiers for the purpose of familiarizing myself with the spots where he had lived, and always under the surveillance of the police.  In fact, I became so infatuated of Villonism that at one time I seriously thought of abandoning myself to a life of crime in order to emulate in certain particulars at least the example of my hero.

There were, however, hindrances to this scheme, first of which was my inability to find associates whom I wished to attach to my cause in the capacity in which Colin de Cayeulx and the Baron de Grigny served Master Francois.  I sought the companionship of several low-browed, ill-favored fellows whom I believed suited to my purposes, but almost immediately I wearied of them, for they had never looked into a book and were so profoundly ignorant as to be unable to distinguish between a folio and a thirty-twomo.