Picture Show (Oct 1920 - Apr 1921)

Picture Show, February 2bth, 1921. 17 shells had drunk all the landlord brought, Villon beckoned them to him. " I have a plan where we can cet good rod gold without betraying France, my friends,' he said. •• Tin' plate In the Kind's chapel will bo unguardod to-morrow afternoon. We shall only be robbing the fiing, who is robbing France." , Selecting the men he rciinircd, Villon outlined his plans* and fixing on a meeting-place, he left the tavern. The Vision. THE following afternoon Villon and his men entered the Chapel Royal. Leaving his followers to get the plate, Villon wandered into the chapel proper, but started back a-s lie saw a veiled woman praying before the High Altar. It was the fresh voice of a girl who uttered her prayer aloud. " Oh, (iod, give men to France, in this hour of her greatest need." As she roso to her feet she threw back her veil and Villon stood transfixed at the sight, of her beauty, for the girl was Katherine do Vaueelles. Her prayer had touched the heart of this strange mail, weird blend of rogue, patriot, and poet. Silently he tiptoed behind the curtain ami joined his men. " Tut back that plate," he ordered. " We must not touch it. France needs it, just as she needs a king that is fearless and sons that are true." The Cockleshells were by no means so patriotic :s their leader, but though they grumbled at sacrificing so much wealth, they obeyed him. In the meantime Villon had sent a man he could trust to follow the girl and find out where she lived. The man cainc back with the information that she lived in the palace, and Villon determined to enter the Royal gardens to see if he could catch another glimpse' of the beautiful girl who had stirred his heart as it had never been stirred before. Wi ll (lid he know that it was madness for him, vagabond that he was. to aspire to a court lady, nor did he forget that if he were caught in the grounds of the palace, he would probably pay for his temerity with his head, but these things weighed nothing with him at the moment. His poet side was uppermost, and he would have risked anything for another look at the charmer who had enslaved him. He had paper and pen in his doublet, and before setting forth he composed a poem. Fie wrote rapidly, but. when he had finished it he was satisfied. He gave his versos' the title, "if I Were King." " // / were King, ah, love, if I were King, What tributary nations would I bring. To stoop before your sceptre and to swear Allegiance to your lips, and eyes, and hair. Beneath your feet what treasure would 1 fling. The stars would be your pearls upon a string. The world a ruby for your finger ring, And you should hare the sun and moon to wear Jf 1 were King." Having folded his verses, he wandered about the gardens till at last he saw Katherine sitting in pensive mood under a tree. Clambering up a bank, he dropped his poem at her feet. The girl looked up with a startled cry, but Villon had withdrawn from view. When he peeped down again he saw that feminine curiosity had got the better of her fears. She was reading the poem, and by the bright look in her eyes and the delicate flush on her cheek, she found it most pleasing. As she read, a number of court ladies came towards her and Katherine read out the verses to them amid their expressions of delight. Villon was hugging himself with ecstasy when he felt a strong hand on his shoulder. Turning, he saw himself surrounded by the Palace Guard. " You look like paying for this intrusion with your life," said the captain, as he motioned his men to seize Villon. In spite of his struggles the guard dragged Villon away to the prison. On thqir way they passed Katherine, who ordered the captain to conic to her. " Who is that you have there ? " slIC asked. " A knave who was caught by my men dropping something from yonder bank," slid the Captain. Katherine immediately decided that it was the poem Villon had dropped, but she had no idea that it was the rakish vagabond who stood before her who was the author of the verses. " Who is your master '! Whose pqpm is this ? " she asked Villon. " The poem is mine," said Villon calmly. At this moment Thibaut hurried on the scene. He recognised Villon, and a look of triumph came in his eyes. After ho had heard the Captain of the Guard he turned to Villon. " You do not seem quite at home in these surr< undings, my man." " As much at home as you were when you wore plotting at the Fir Cone last night," returned Villon dryly. Thibaut's face flushed darkly. " Put him in the dungeon," he ordered. Villon tried to speak, but a hand was thrust over his month and he was dragged away. Katherine looked at Thibaut inquiringly. {Continued on par/c 18.) BRYANT WASHBURN Tne Film He Produced In ts L->ountry