Mother Villon, her simple curiosity easily satisfied, dropped her informant a curtsey and hobbled slowly up the steps into the church.
Petit-Jean stretched himself again and yawned.
"I'll to sleep and dream of hanging a king."
Trois-Echelles put a lean finger to his lean chin.
"Treason, friend, if Tristan heard you."
Petit-Jean's eyes twinkled.
"Well, let's say an archbishop," he said.
Trois-Echelles nodded approvingly.
"An archbishop ought to make a good end."
His mind pleased itself with the picture of so high a dignitary of the church in his full canonicals coming under his tender care and being exhorted by his pious counsels.