his first introduction to De Cayeux and Petit-Jehan, which was
probably a matter of some concern to the poor man's muddy wits; in the
sequel, at least, he speaks of both with an undisguised respect, based
on professional inferiority in the matter of picklocks. Dom Nicolas, a
Picardy monk, was the fifth and last at table. When supper had been
despatched and fairly washed down, we may suppose, with white Baigneux
or red Beaune, which were favourite wines among the fellowship, Tabary
was solemnly sworn over to secrecy on the night's performances; and the
party left the Mule and proceeded to an unoccupied house belonging to
Robert de Saint-Simon. This, over a low wall, they entered without
difficulty. All but Tabary took off their upper garments; a ladder was
found and applied to the high wall which separated Saint-Simon's house
from the court of the College of Navarre; the four fellows in their
shirt-sleeves (as we might say) clambered over in a twinkling; and
Master Guy Tabary remained alone beside the overcoats. From the court
the burglars made their way into the vestry of the chapel, where they
found a large chest, strengthened with iron bands and closed with four
locks. One of these locks they picked, and then, by levering up the
corner, forced the other three. Inside was a small coffer, of walnut
wood, also barred with iron, but fastened with only three locks, which
were all comfortably picked by way of the keyhole. In the walnut
coffer--a joyous sight by our thieves' lantern--were five hundred crowns
of gold. There was some talk of opening the aumries, where, if they had
only known, a booty eight or nine times greater lay ready to their hand;
but one of the party (I have a humorous suspicion it was Dom Nicolas,
the Picardy monk) hurried them away. It was ten o'clock when they
mounted the ladder; it was about midnight before Tabary beheld them
coming back. To him they gave ten crowns, and promised a share of a
two-crown dinner on the morrow; whereat we may suppose his mouth
watered. In course of time, he got wind of the real amount of their
booty and understood how scurvily he had been used; but he seems to have
borne no malice. How could he, against such superb operators as
Petit-Jehan and De Cayeux; or a person like Villon, who could have made
a new improper romance out of his own head, instead of merely copying an
old one with mechanical right hand?

The rest of the winter was not uneventful for the gang. First they