"Alas for lovers! Pair by pair The Wind has blown them all away: The young and yare, the fond and fair: Where are the Snows of Yesterday?" The little group whom he addressed lingered in a gracious silence for a short space. Singer and listeners seemed to be in an exquisite isolation of moonlight and soft odours. Katherine murmured pensively to herself: "Where are the snows of yesterday?" Her eyes were shining like summer stars, her parted lips made Villon think of ripe pomegranates, her mind was wandering in the Islands of the Blest with the lovers and ladies whom Villon had praised. Villon dismissed melancholy with a jest: "Sweet ladies," he said; "my song is sung. Do not let it dishearten you, for, believe me, it will snow again next year and lie white and light on the graves of dead lovers. Yesterday is dead, and to-morrow comes never." He drew very close to Katherine and whispered the end of his sentence in her ear: "Let us live and love to-day." Katherine gave a little start as she dropped from cloudland and looked at him. He drew back and turned to the others. "Fair ladies," he said; "shall we go to the great hall where the Italian players gambol?" The women gathered about him, thanking him for his song, and then fluttered away like brilliant birds, up the steps to the terrace. As they did so a figure in a pilgrim's gown came from the scented gloom of one of the rose alleys, paused for a moment as if undecided as to his course, and then proceeded to cross the space of moonlit grass. He did not heed Katherine, standing in the shadow, till he almost touched her. Then he glanced at her, and with a stifled exclamation hurried past, plunged into the darkness of an opposite alley, and disappeared. Katherine gave a little cry that was almost a cry of fear, and ran swiftly to where Villon stood apart at the foot of the steps awaiting her pleasure. "My lord!" she cried, and he, turning, swiftly responded: "My lady!" "This masking kindles fancies. I thought but now that the eyes of Thibaut d'Aussigny glared on me from under a pilgrim's hood." Villon frowned. "A villainous apparition. For the news is that he lies dead in the camp of Burgundy." Katherine gave a little shudder. "I always hated him; almost feared him. If he be dead, I hope he will not haunt me. Ah! I tingle to-night like a lute that is tuned too high." "Let us think of no evil things to-night," Villon responded. "Will you watch the players?" Katherine shook her head. "Nay, I am more in a mood for moonlight than candlelight." Villon looked at her in silence, a silence of seconds that seemed to both of them like the silence of hours. The hearts of both were houses of sweet hopes, and the brains of both were hives of happy thoughts. "May I ask you a question?" Villon said, and the girl answered: "Surely." "Are you content with me?" "You have done much."