Noel le Jolys stooped to obey the king's command, but the old woman, rising to her feet, repulsed him fiercely.
"No! no!" she said. "I will not leave my son," and she flung her old body passionately upon the prisoner's neck and clasped with her lean arms his mailed shoulders.
Louis bade Montjoye proclaim for the last time, and once again the trumpets thundered and once again the cold, calm voice of Montjoye propounded the grim terms of the king's clemency.
The silence that followed was swiftly broken by; the sweet, clear voice of a girl.
"I will," said Katherine de Vaucelles from her stand on the church steps, and on the instant all eyes were turned to the spot where the maiden stood with face as white as pear-blossom and her hands tightly clenched by her sides. She moved slowly down the steps in the dead silence and paused before the king's throne.
"I will die for him, sire," she said quietly.
From Villon's lips there came a mighty cry of "Katherine!" and a fain spot of colour rose on the king's cheeks.
"Mistress, we speak to men," he said.
Tristan pressed his great hands together.
"By St. Denis, our women seem to make the best men," he grunted.