Picture Show (Oct 1920 - Apr 1921)

16 Picture Shoic, February 26///, 1921. The splendid story o! the Fox version of Justin Huntly McCarthy's Famous novel. p 2>P How a vagabond saved a ' nation in the reign of Louis XI. of France. (Special to lite " 1'ietvre Show.") FRANCE, in the middle of the fifteenth century, wis in the throes of a terrible struggle that might have been likened to the illucss of a giant The body, as represented by the common people, was healthy. Soldiers and peasants were burning with the fire of patriotism, | the flame of which had been lit by the tire j which burnt at the stake the body of Joan of Arc, the Maid of Orleans. The soul of France had been stirred to the height of spiritual exaltation by the sacrifice of the girl martyr. But while the body was healthy, the brain, as represented by the King and the I nobles, was decaying through selfishness, greed, arrogance, luxury and all the other vices that had centuries before destroyed the mighty Roman Fmpirc. The King, Louis XI., was a degenerate who was royal in nothing but name. A physical weakling, he lived in perpetual fear of his enemies, too cowardly to face thorn in the open, but sometimes sec living their downfall by treachery or, more often, by bribery. ■ " ■ . On the day this story opens, the King was holding court. With his shrivelled figure, sombrely clad in' black velvet, and his cunning, fox-like face, he looked more like the meanest of his subjects than the nller of % nation, Katnerine By his side was a young girl of surpassing beauty. ■ y Katherine de Vaucelles was only eighteen years of age, and she had brought to that corrupt court, not only the beauty of youth, but a purity of spirit that was proof against all the vices which surrounded her. The dc Vaucelles had often died for France, but they had never lived on her. The Court well knew the sinister designs that Louis harboured against Katherine de Vaucelles, but even that crowned reprobate had not been able by all his lavish promises of wealth and power to turn the girl from the path of honour. As the King chatted with his favourite gossip, Tristan, a messenger, who, from the appearance of his apparel, had been riding hard, craved Immediate audience of his Majesty. A frown crossed over the face of Louis. " Bid him step forward," he said irritably. The man, a blunt soldier who had been flghling for France ■ while the court gallants danced and gambled, came forward with a proud step. Bending low before the throne he delivered his message. "• Sire," he said. " The Duke of Burgundy is encamped Outside Paris, scarce two leagues from the city walls. My commander has evidence that he intends to attack the city, and he wishes your Majesty to give him orders to attack the Duke at oneo before others who arc coining to his assistance can arrive." The King's hand trembled as he made a sign to Thibaut d'Aussigny, (fraud Constable of France, to approach. Thibaut was a fine specimen of a man, with a soldierly presence, but, his lace was not in keeping with his figure. It was the lace of a plotter rather than that of a fighter. " You heard what he said, Thibaut," said the King. " What do you advise ?." "I do not think the time has arrived for action yet," said Thibaut, after a pause. Katherine de Vaucelles started to her feel. " The time not yet," she Bald indignantly, " when the barbarous Burgundy threatens the very Citadel" of Paris ! What, then, sir Constable, would be the time ? When the city is in ashes ? " Thibaut flushed with mortification. He had paid court to Katherine ever since she had arrived at Court, and he meant to win her for his wife, despite the designs of the King. It went hard that she should attack him in the lull hearing of the Court. •' 1 speak but in the interests ol France," he said stiffly. "My plans are not yet completed. It wfiuld be playing into the hands of Burgundy to attack at this juncture." Katherine turned to the King. " Surely, sire, you will give the order to fight ? " ■ "No," said the King, shifting uneasily under the look from the girl's eyes. " Thibaut is right. Delay is our best weapon. When he is joined by the others, they will quarrel among themselves, and Burgundy will be hard put to it. to get away with his army." It. was the policy of a weakling, but one that might have been expected from a ruler whose favourite motto was : " He who knows not how to deceive, knows not how to govern." The blunt soldier could scarcely hide the disgust on his face, but Ire made no remark as he passed from the royal presence. . liven the blase courtiers were astounded at the King's decision not to light. The Duke of Burgundy was one of the most powerful nobles in the country, and he was the chief cause ol the unrest in France referred to at the beginning of this story. Most of the other nobles who were plotting against Louis, were only seeking an extension . of their (BETTY ROSS CLARKE) visits Villon (WILLIAM FARNUM) at the Fir Cone. estates at the expense of their rivals, but Burgundy had set his ambition on something much higher — the throne of France. And so, though he had -decided not to attack his chief enemy, Louis was worried and frightened at the Duke's audacity in threatening the capital. King Louis was ridden with superstition, and in his dilemma he sought couuscl, as he invariably did in such circumstances, with his Arab astrologer. There we will leave him for the present while we leave the glittering Court for the Fir Cone Inn, a rendezvous of thieves in the lowest quarter of Paris. The King of the Cockleshells. IT was night and the low-roofed rooms of the Fir Cone were filled with knaves and vagabonds and their women friends. Most of them belonged to a secret society known as " The Cockleshells," composed of assassins, robbers and beggars. Money was plentiful that night, and mine host smiled to himself as he kept refilling the tankards with win", taking care to collect his dues every time he served a fresh round. The habitues of this strange tavern were attired in a variety of costumes, that of the men being chielly remarkable for a certain tawdry finery which proved that at one time it had been worn by their betters. Among the women, there were many young and pretty lasses arrayed in finery which had unmistakably been made for the quality. Queen of this remarkable gathering was Hughette, a dainty, dark-eyed girl with wonderful figure whic h was revealed by the fact that she wore the dress of a page, n disguise she had adopted in order to carry out a recent robbery. She was talking to a girl about her own age, but her mind was evidently elsewhere, for every tew seconds she would turn her eyes to the stairs which led to the underground room in which they were sitting. " It is easy to see, Hughette, that your thoughts are, wandering," said the other girl. " And I would wager a silken pair of hose that they are on Francois Villon, the King of the Cockleshells." " And you would win, Ninette," said Hughette blusliiiigly. " Our Francois does, indeed, occupy my thoughts, but I am afraid I never cross his mind except when he sees me. He lives in Unit dreamland of which we only know when he recites those wonderful poems." " Yet have I thought that sometimes there is more love than comradeship in those glances ho gives you," observed Ninette. " Mayhap. Who knows ? "said HUghette thoughtfully. " You are my friend and you know my secret, so I do not fear to tell you that I love Francois Villon iH-ttcr than life. But I do not understand him. MettUnks he is an enigma to himself. A great poet, yet n thief and vagabond. It must be a strange history that brought such a talented man among us— the vagabonds of Paris." Scarcely hud she finished speaking when there was a loud shouting from the merry-makers. " Villon I Villon ! Our Francois is here ! " they cried. Standing half-way on the stairs was n remarkable man. A strikingly handsome face looked from under a broad-brimmed hat in which was stuck jauntily an eagle's plume. The black curling moustaches ami pointed beard gave a half-Spanish appearance to the man, but Fraucois Villon was French —as French as the wine from sunny southern France that he loved so well. His doublet and hose were of the finest material, but the silver trimmings were tarnished and his whole apparel showed signs of wear. There was an air of rakishness about him that sat veil on his finely [Fox. built and graceful figure, as he stood smiling at his friends. Then, as light as a ballet dancer lie jumped the remaining steps and, going tip to Hughette, he lifted her in his arms and kissed her. " Hughette, lass, there's more real nertai in those lips than in the whole of the vineyards of France," he cried gaily. " Not that I would despise a flagon of our host's nt the. present moment, for 1 am as dry as a limekiln. i Hughette ran to bring him wine, and* Villon, seating himself with careless east-, looked round nt his followers and asked them the news." • " 'Tis you, Francois, that we looked for to bring news, since .you have been so long away," said one of them. " I have nothing fresher than my horse, and by my faith, that poor beast is stale enough," laughed Villon, as lie bowed to Hughette, and raised the*tankard she had brought him to his lips. " But 1 will give you a song," he added, as he placed dow n the tankard after taking a drink that almost emptied it. Then, with another bow to Hughette, he began to sing in a rich, rolling baritone : " Alas, for lovers, pair by pair The wind has blown them all away ; The young and rare, the fond and fair f Where are the snows of yesterday ! " Villon ceased his songwbruptly a; a tall man, whoa • rich habilfiuent was only partially concealed by a cloak, the hood of which shielded his face, entered the room and approached a man who was standing apart from the others, leaning against a pillar. The man by the pillar was known to the Cockleshells as Rene, and it was an id that he had once fluttered it with the best at the Royal Court, before some crini" had driven him to mix with the under world of Paris. Villon gave a sign to the others to carry on with the merriment, but he himself, though apparent!) doing nothiug but drinking, kept a keen eye on Rene and the stranger. After the two had conversed in whispers for some time, Villon saw Rene point him out to the stranger, ifnd'a little later Rene called to Villon. Setting down his tankard, Villon staggered over. » " This gentleman has asked me if I know a man with a stout heart who would be prepared to run a risk if well paid," said Rene. " I said he would travel far before he met a better mau lor such a task than Francois Villon." " Von" honour me, mv dear Rene." said Villon, with a bow. " I think 1 might merit your recommendation, but first I would like to see our friend tare. I like not dealing in the dark." Tho stranger threw back his hood. Villon gave a little start, but it was almost imperceptible. He recognised in the stranger, Thibaut d'Aussigny, Grand Constable or France. "Metliinks it were well that I should learn as much of this as I can." thought Villon. "Though something tells me that I shall not work for Thibaut. He is no true friend of France if all t hear is correct ." " And what may this task be ? " he inquired aloud. " Only to carry a message to the Duke of Uurgundy." whispered Thibaut. "Here is gold more than enough to pay for such a service." He thrust a bag of gold into Villon's hands, but did not notice that the eyes of the vagabond had narrowed ominously. " What ! Would you have me betray all that the Maid of Orleans died for?" shouted Villon. " Rpj for the foes of friend France ! Little tlo you know Francois Villon ! " He threw the gold among the drinkers. " Fill every glass and tankard, landlord ! " he cried. " And you, my friends, drink this loa-t ' Confusion to the Duke of Normandy ! ' " While the Cockleshells drank the toast with main maledictions on the head of t lie Duke of R-urguiid\ Thibaut and Rene hastily retired to the far end <•> the room. " A thousand curses on that roystering varlel ' cried Thibaut. "A pretty plight you got me luto Rene." " There is no need to worry," said Rene calmly. " Villon will lie drunk to-night and forget all ubOWl the incident In the morning. But since 1 have inadvertently spoilt your plan, let me carry th« message." Thibaut looked at him closely. "I think I ran trust you." he said, at length. " This is the message you must deliver by word of mouth. The times nrc too plaguey to ri-k writing. Tell the Duke I will open the gates oi Paris on Iwn conditions— that he gives mo a Dukedom and Katherine de Vaucelles as wife." " Consider it done," said Rene. " And now we had better away before" that rabble thinks of u*. I know a secret way out. Follow me." In a few minutes Thibaut found himself in th.i street where he and Rene parted. When the CockD