A Lodging For The Night (in Short Story Collection Vol. 055 )

MP3 Audio CD. A Lodging For The Night (in Short Story Collection Vol. 055 )

A LODGING FOR THE NIGHT
A STORY OF FRANCIS VILLON


IT was late in November 1456. The snow fell over Paris with rigorous,
relentless persistence; sometimes the wind made a sally and scattered it
in flying vortices; sometimes there was a lull, and flake after flake
descended out of the black night air, silent, circuitous, interminable.
To poor people, looking up under moist eyebrows, it seemed a wonder where
it all came from. Master Francis Villon had propounded an alternative
that afternoon, at a tavern window: was it only Pagan Jupiter plucking
geese upon Olympus? or were the holy angels moulting? He was only a poor
Master of Arts, he went on; and as the question somewhat touched upon
divinity, he durst not venture to conclude. A silly old priest from
Montargis, who was among the company, treated the young rascal to a
bottle of wine in honour of the jest and the grimaces with which it was
accompanied, and swore on his own white beard that he had been just such
another irreverent dog when he was Villon’s age.

The air was raw and pointed, but not far below freezing; and the flakes
were large, damp, and adhesive. The whole city was sheeted up. An army
might have marched from end to end and not a footfall given the alarm.
If there were any belated birds in heaven, they saw the island like a
large white patch, and the bridges like slim white spars, on the black
ground of the river. High up overhead the snow settled among the tracery
of the cathedral towers. Many a niche was drifted full; many a statue
wore a long white bonnet on its grotesque or sainted head. The gargoyles
had been transformed into great false noses, drooping towards the point.
The crockets were like upright pillows swollen on one side. In the