"Doubles or quits?" said Thevenin. Montigny nodded grimly.

"Some may prefer to dine in state," wrote Villon, "On bread and

cheese on silver plate. Or - or - help me out, Guido!"

"Or parsley on a golden dish," scribbled the poet.

The wind was freshening without; it drove the snow before it, and

sometimes raised its voice in a victorious whoop, and made

sepulchral grumblings in the chimney. The cold was growing sharper

an the night went on. Villon, protruding his lips, imitated the