Such a person is lost if he have not dignity, or,
failing that, at least pride, which is its shadow and in many
ways its substitute. Master Francis, I fancy, would follow
his own eager instincts without much spiritual struggle. And
we soon find him fallen among thieves in sober, literal
earnest, and counting as acquaintances the most disreputable
people he could lay his hands on: fellows who stole ducks in
Paris Moat; sergeants of the criminal court, and archers of
the watch; blackguards who slept at night under the butchers'
stalls, and for whom the aforesaid archers peered about
carefully with lanterns; Regnier de Montigny, Colin de
Cayeux, and their crew, all bound on a favouring breeze
towards the gallows; the disorderly abbess of Port Royal, who
went about at fair time with soldiers and thieves, and
conducted her abbey on the queerest principles, and most
likely Perette Mauger, the great Paris receiver of stolen
goods, not yet dreaming, poor woman! of the last scene of her
career when Henry Cousin, executor of the high justice, shall
bury her, alive and most reluctant, in front of the new
Montigny gibbet. (1) Nay, our friend soon began to take a
foremost rank in this society. He could string off verses,
which is always an agreeable talent; and he could make
himself useful in many other ways. The whole ragged army of
Bohemia, and whosoever loved good cheer without at all loving
to work and pay for it, are addressed in contemporary verses
as the "Subjects of Francois Villon.
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