"I will give you no more than good-bye," she said, and turned to leave him, but Villon caught her by the arm. "You shall not show me your heels till I show myself your face," he insisted. Before the girl could prevent him, he had flung back her hood and snatched the mask from her face. To his amazement he found himself looking on the fair, familiar face of Huguette, and in astonishment he cried her name. The girl, astounded at being recognized, came close to him. "Who are you? "she asked. For answer, Villon unmasked. Huguette looked closely into his face, at first Without any sign of recognition, then suddenly the knowledge came to her and she caught him in her arms with a cry of joy. "François, you dear devil, where have you been this thousand years? They said you were banished. How brave you are! Where did you steal so much splendour? Are you cutting purses? Are you plucking mantles?" Villon tried to stay her questions. "What are you doing here, Abbess?" "The fair fool Noel has taken a week-long fancy to me, and I am making an age-long fool of him. Kiss me," she urged, putting her face very near to Villon's. Villon drew back his head. "You should keep your kisses for the fair fool Noel." Huguette drew away from him angrily. "When you were as lean as a cat and as ragged as a sparrow, you were not so nice a precisian. Has some great lady bewitched you? Can you only woo in silk and win in velvet? If the kernel be sweet, what does the husk matter? Heaven's pity! Why should a woman love you?" Villon took no notice of her petulance but repeated his question: "What are you doing here, Abbess?" The girl's rage was as short as a summer's shower. She turned again to him, fondling him. "Well, I cannot shut the door of my heart in your smooth face. Ren de Montigny has a great game afoot, and you are back in time to share in it." "What game?" Villon asked. Huguette answered: "The fair fool Noel, advised by me, has persuaded the king to see an astrologer here to-night when the gardens are quiet. Noel believes that the astrologer will advise the king to fling his Grand Constable out of the window and call Messire Noel in at the door, but the comrades of the cockleshell really mean much more mischief. When once we get the king within reach of our fingers, we mean to snap him up and carry him out of Paris, willy nilly, and sell him to the Duke of Burgundy." Villon caught his breath. "A great game!" he cried. "But who is this astrologer?" "Thibaut d'Aussigny," she answered, "who pretends to be dead, but who lives for this revenge." Villon leaped to his feet. He remembered what Katherine thought she had seen. "Then it was he!" he said. Huguette went on with her story. "Noel is to give us the signal by crying an owl's cry thrice." Villon was revolving many thoughts in his mind and he hardly heeded her.