It fell this time upon fresh ears, the ears of an old woman who was patiently pushing her way through the crowd in her effort to reach her humble lodging. She had succeeded in making her way to the open space as the last words of the herald's offer were being spoken, and suddenly her dulled brain caught the full significance of Montjoye's speech. Looking wildly around her, she saw where Villon stood, an armoured figure held captive, and without attempting to realize the meaning of what she beheld, she dropped her stick and tottered forward to the dais, where she fell on her knees with clasped, entreating hands.
"Sire, sire, I will die for him!"
Villon's heart leaped to his throat when he saw her.
"Mammy, mammy, go away!" he cried, and he made a vain attempt to move towards his mother, a movement instantly restrained by the crossed weapons of his captors. At the same moment Katherine de Vaucelles came out of the church door in obedience to the summons of a royal page, who had found her at her prayers, and who told her that the king desired her presence. She paused at the head of the steps in amazed survey of the crowded place and a scene that at first she could not understand.
"Who is this woman?" Louis asked, looking down at the poor old dame, who knelt before him and besought him. Olivier answered in his ear:
"The fellow's mother, sire."
A very little tenderness came into Louis' eyes, a very little tenderness trembled on his lips.
"Woman, we cannot hear you," he said. "By God's law you have given him life once and by my law you may not give him life again."
"Sire, I beseech you," Mother Villon entreated; but the king's pity was not to be purchased so.
"Take her away and use her gently," he said.