Villon took the paper and looked straightly into the young man's eyes.
"Have we ever met before?" he asked.
Noel le Jolys made a deprecatory gesture.
"Alas! no," he said. "Your lordship has swept into court like an unheralded comet. You shall tell us tales of Provence to please our ladies."
Still gravely looking at him, Villon questioned him again.
"Messire Noel, if you and I had a mind to pluck the same rose from this garden, which of us would win?"
The affable fribble's intelligence appeared to be baffled.
"I do not understand you," he protested.
Villon shrugged his shoulders. "Never mind," he said, seating himself again on the marble seat and looking at the familiar names on the piece of paper.
"Send me hither René de Montigny."