"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. Katherine stood, tall and proud, facing the king. Mother Villon, stirred by this heavenly interference, left her son to fall at the feet of the angel lady and kiss the hem of her garment. Katherine spoke bravely: "Sire, I love this man and would be proud to die for him. It may chime with your pleasure to slay him; it cannot chime with your honour to deny me. Your word is given and a king must keep his word." The king made an impatient gesture. "We speak to men." Villon caught at his words. "I speak to a woman," he cried, and gazirig passionately at his love, he called to her: "Katherine, my Katherine, death is a little thing. For love is deathless and you give me a better thing than life." With unmoved voice, with unchanged face, Katherine persisted: "Sire, I claim your promise." Louis again denied her. "We speak to men. Tristan, do your office." At this moment the situation suddenly changed. Villon unexpectedly wrenched himself free from the control of the two soldiers beside him, whose hold had relaxed in their wonder at what was passing, and sprang towards Katherine. His act instantly inspired the hearts and hands of his sympathisers, and in a second he was caught up and encircled by a crowd of armed and determined men, who drove back the Scottish archers. Villon snatched a drawn sword from the hand of René de Montigny and held it high in the air while he shouted: "No, by God's rood, the candle of my grace has not yet burnt to the socket! People of Paris, shall I not speak to my lover before I die?" The place was a raving bedlam of noise and menace. The Scottish archers did not dare to make any attempt to recapture their escaped prisoner, but kept their line in front of the royal dais, while Villon stood by the side of Katherine with drawn sword, an archangel of insurrection, ready at any moment to fling the forces behind him upon his adversaries. Yet the king remained as unmoved as if he had been witnessing a puppet show. In his thin, even voice, he commanded: "Speak to her while the candle burns, not a second longer." With one accord, Villon's adherents drew back and Villon was left with Katherine alone in the open space. Katherine whispered to him: "François, will you not take life at my hands?" Villon answered her tenderly: