{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_13500/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_13500","id":"gutenberg_13500","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13500","summary":null,"tags":["Category: French Literature","Category: Historical Novels","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Christian saints -- France -- Juvenile fiction","France -- History -- Charles VII, 1422-1461 -- Juvenile fiction","Joan, of Arc, Saint, 1412-1431 -- Juvenile fiction","Women soldiers -- France -- Juvenile fiction"],"text":"A HEROINE OF FRANCE\n\nThe Story of Joan of Arc\n\nby\n\nEVELYN EVERETT-GREEN\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nContents\n\n\n  CHAPTER I.     HOW I FIRST HEARD OF THE MAID.\n\n  CHAPTER II.    HOW I FIRST SAW THE MAID.\n\n  CHAPTER III.   HOW THE MAID CAME TO VAUCOULEURS.\n\n  CHAPTER IV.    HOW THE MAID WAS TRIED AND TESTED.\n\n  CHAPTER V.     HOW THE MAID JOURNEYED TO CHINON.\n\n  CHAPTER VI.    HOW THE MAID CAME TO THE KING.\n\n  CHAPTER VII.   HOW THE MAID WAS HINDERED; YET MADE PREPARATION.\n\n  CHAPTER VIII.  HOW THE MAID MARCHED FOR ORLEANS.\n\n  CHAPTER IX.    HOW THE MAID ASSUMED COMMAND AT ORLEANS.\n\n  CHAPTER X.     HOW THE MAID LED US INTO BATTLE.\n\n  CHAPTER XI.    HOW THE MAID BORE TRIUMPH AND TROUBLE.\n\n  CHAPTER XII.   HOW THE MAID RAISED THE SIEGE.\n\n  CHAPTER XIII.  HOW THE MAID WON A NEW NAME.\n\n  CHAPTER XIV.   HOW THE MAID CLEARED THE KING'S WAY.\n\n  CHAPTER XV.    HOW THE MAID RODE WITH THE KING.\n\n  CHAPTER XVI.   HOW THE MAID ACCOMPLISHED HER MISSION.\n\n  CHAPTER XVII.  HOW THE MAID WAS PERSUADED.\n\n  CHAPTER XVIII. HOW I LAST SAW THE MAID.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I. HOW I FIRST HEARD OF THE MAID.\n\n\n\"The age of Chivalry--alas!--is dead. The days of miracles are past\nand gone! What future is there for hapless France? She lies in the\ndust. How can she hope to rise?\"\n\nSir Guy de Laval looked full in our faces as he spoke these words,\nand what could one reply? Ah me!--those were sad and sorrowful days\nfor France--and for those who thought upon the bygone glories of\nthe past, when she was mistress of herself, held high her head, and\nwas a power with hostile nations. What would the great Charlemagne\nsay, could he see us now? What would even St. Louis of blessed\nmemory feel, could he witness the changes wrought by only a century\nand a half? Surely it were enough to cause them to turn in their\ngraves! The north lying supine at the feet of the English\nconqueror; licking his hand, as a dog licks that of his master,\nlost to all sense of shame that an English infant in his cradle (so\nto speak) should rule through a regent the fair realm of France,\nwhilst its own lawful King, banished from his capital and from half\nhis kingdom, should keep his Court at Bourges or Chinon, passing\nhis days in idle revelry, heedless of the eclipse of former\ngreatness, careless of the further aggressions threatened by the\never-encroaching foe.\n\nWas Orleans to fall next into the greedy maw of the English\nadventurers? Was it not already threatened? And how could it be\nsaved if nothing could rouse the King from his slothful\nindifference? O for the days of Chivalry!--the days so long gone\nby!\n\nWhilst I, Jean de Novelpont, was musing thus, a curious look\novershadowed the face of Bertrand de Poulengy, our comrade and\nfriend, with whom, when we had said adieu to Sir Guy a few miles\nfarther on, I was to return to Vaucouleurs, to pay a long-promised\nvisit there. I had been journeying awhile with Sir Guy in Germany,\nand he was on his way to the Court at Chinon; for we were all of\nthe Armagnac party, loyal to our rightful monarch, whether King or\nonly Dauphin still, since he had not been crowned, and had adopted\nno truly regal state or authority; and we were earnestly desirous\nof seeing him awaken from his lethargy and put himself at the head\nof an army, resolved to drive out the invaders from the land, and\nbe King of France in truth as well as in name. But so far it seemed\nas though nothing short of a miracle would effect this, and the\ndays of miracles, as Sir Guy had said, were now past and gone.\n\nThen came the voice of Bertrand, speaking in low tones, as a man\nspeaks who communes with himself; but we heard him, for we were\nriding over the thick moss of the forest glade, and the horses'\nfeet sank deep and noiseless in the sod, and our fellows had fallen\nfar behind, so that their laughter and talk no longer broke upon\nour ears. The dreamy stillness of the autumn woodlands was about\nus, when the songs of the birds are hushed, and the light falls\ngolden through the yellowing leaves, and a glory more solemn than\nthat of springtide lies upon the land.\n\nMethinks there is something in the gradual death of the year which\nattunes our hearts to a certain gentle melancholy; and perchance\nthis was why Sir Guy's words had lacked the ring of hopeful bravery\nthat was natural to one of his temperament, and why Bertrand's eyes\nwere so grave and dreamy, and his voice seemed to come from far\naway.\n\n\"And yet I do bethink me that six months agone I did behold a scene\nwhich seems to me to hold within its scope something of miracle and\nof mystery. I have thought of it by day, and dreamed of it by\nnight, and the memory of it will not leave me, I trow, so long as\nbreath and being remain!\"\n\nWe turned and looked at him--the pair of us--with eyes which\nquestioned better than our tongues. Bertrand and I had been\ncomrades and friends in boyhood; but of late years we had been much\nsundered. I had not seen him for above a year, till he joined us\nthe previous Wednesday at Nancy, having received a letter I did\nsend to him from thence. He came to beg of me to visit him at his\nkinsman's house, the Seigneur Robert de Baudricourt of Vaucouleurs;\nand since my thirst for travel was assuaged, and my purse something\nover light to go to Court, I was glad to end my wanderings for the\nnonce, in the company of one whom I still loved as a brother.\n\nFrom the first I had noted that Bertrand was something graver and\nmore thoughtful than had been his wont. Now I did look at him with\nwonder in my eyes. What could he be speaking of?\n\nHe answered as though the question had passed my lips.\n\n\"It was May of this present year of grace,\" he said, \"I mind it the\nbetter that it was the Feast of the Ascension, and I had kept fast\nand vigil, had made my confession and received the Holy Sacrament\nearly in the day. I was in my lodging overlooking the market place,\nand hard by the Castle which as you know hangs, as it were, over\nthe town, guarding or threatening it, as the case may be, when a\nmessenger arrived from my kinsman, De Baudricourt, bidding me to a\ncouncil which he was holding at noon that day. I went to him\nwithout delay; and he did tell me a strange tale.\n\n\"Not long since, so he said, an honest prud'homme of the\nneighbouring village of Burey le Petit, Durand Laxart by name, had\nasked speech with him, and had then told him that a young niece of\nhis, dwelling in the village of Domremy, had come to him a few days\nsince, saying it had been revealed to her how that she was to be\nused by the God of Heaven as an instrument in His hands for the\nredemption of France; and she had been told in a vision to go first\nto the Seigneur de Baudricourt, who would then find means whereby\nshe should be sent to the Dauphin (as she called him), whom she was\nto cause to be made King of France.\"\n\n\"Mort de Dieu!\" cried Sir Guy, as he gazed at Bertrand with a look\nbetwixt laughter and amaze, \"and what said your worshipful uncle to\nthat same message?\"\n\n\"At the first, he told me, he broke into a great laugh, and bid the\nhonest fellow box the girl's ears well, and send her back to her\nmother. But he added that the man had been to him once again, and\nhad pleaded that at least he would see his niece before sending her\naway; and since by this time he was himself somewhat curious to see\nand to question this village maiden, who came with so strange a\ntale, he had told Laxart to bring her at noon that very day, and he\ndesired that I and certain others should be there in the hall with\nhim, to hear her story, and perhaps suggest some shrewd question\nwhich might help to test her good faith.\"\n\n\"A good thought,\" spoke Sir Guy, \"for it is hard to believe in\nthese dreamers of dreams. I have met such myself--they talk great\nswelling words, but the world wags on its way in spite of them.\nThey are no prophets; they are bags of wind. They make a stir and a\ncommotion for a brief while, and then they vanish to be heard of no\nmore.\"\n\n\"It may be so,\" answered Bertrand, whose face was grave, and whose\nsteadfast dark-blue eyes had taken a strange shining, \"I can only\nspeak of that which I did see and hear. What the future may hold\nnone can say. God alone doth know that.\"\n\n\"Then you saw this maid--and heard her speech. What looked she\nlike?--and what said she?\"\n\n\"I will tell you all the tale. We were gathered there in the great\nhall. There were perhaps a score of us; the Seigneur at the head of\nthe council table, the Abbe Perigord on his right, and the Count of\nLa Roche on his left. There were two priests also present, and the\nchiefest knights and gentlemen of the town. We had all been\nlaughing gaily at the thought of what a village maid of but\nseventeen summers--or thereabouts--would feel on being introduced\ninto the presence of such a company. We surmised that she would\nshrink into the very ground for shame. One gentleman declared that\nit was cruel to ask her to face so many strangers of condition so\nmuch more exalted than her own; but De Baudricourt cried out, 'Why\nman, the wench is clamouring to be taken to the King at his Court!\nIf she cannot face a score of simple country nobles here, how can\nshe present herself at Chinon? Let her learn her place by a sharp\nlesson here; so may she understand that she had best return to her\ndistaff and spindle and leave the crowning of Kings to other\nhands!' And it was in the midst of the roar of laughter which\ngreeted this speech that the door opened slowly--and we saw the\nmaid of whom we had been talking.\"\n\n\"And she doubtless heard your mirth,\" spoke I, and he bent his head\nin assent.\n\n\"I trow she did,\" he answered, \"but think you that the ribald jests\nof mortal men can touch one of the angels of God? She stood for a\nmoment framed in the doorway, and I tell you I lie not when I\ndeclare that it seemed to all present as though a halo of pure\nwhite light encircled her. Where the light came from I know not;\nbut many there were, like myself, who noted it. The far end of the\nhall was dim and dark; but yet we saw her clear as she moved\nforward. Upon her face was a shining such as I have seen upon none\nother. She wore the simple peasant dress of her class, with the\ncoif upon her head; yet it seemed to me--ay, and to others too--as\nthough she was habited in rich apparel. Perchance it was that when\none had seen her face, one could no longer think upon her raiment.\nIf a queen--if an angel--if a saint from heaven stood in stately\ncalm and dignity before one's eyes, how could we think of the\nraiment worn? We should see nothing but the grandeur and beauty of\nthe face and form!\"\n\n\"Mort de Dieu!\" cried Sir Guy with his favourite oath, \"but you\nlook, good Bertrand, as though you had gazed upon some vision from\nthe unseen world!\"\n\n\"Nay,\" he answered gravely, \"but I have looked upon the face of one\nwhom God has visited through His saints. I have seen the reflection\nof His glory in human eyes; and so I can never say with others that\nthe days of miracles are past.\"\n\nBertrand spoke with a solemnity and earnestness which could not but\nimpress us deeply. Our eyes begged him to continue, and he told the\nrest of his tale very simply.\n\n\"She came forward with this strange shining in her eyes. She bent\nbefore us with simple reverence; but then lifted herself up to her\nfull height and looked straight at De Baudricourt without boldness\nand without fear, as though she saw in him a tool in the hand of\nGod, and had no other thought for him besides.\n\n\"'Seigneur,' she said, 'my Lord has bidden me come to you, that you\nmay send me to the Dauphin; for He has given me a message to him\nwhich none else may bear; and He has told me that you will do it,\ntherefore I know that you will not fail Him, and your laughter\ntroubles me not.'\n\n\"'Who is your Lord, my child?' asked De Baudricourt, not laughing\nnow, but pulling at his beard and frowning in perplexity.\n\n\"'Even the Lord of Heaven, Sire,' she answered, and her hands\nclasped themselves loosely together whilst her eyes looked upward\nwith a smile such as I have seen on none other face before. 'He\nthat is my Lord and your Lord and the Lord of this realm of France.\nBut it is His holy will that the Dauphin shall be its King, and\nthat he shall drive back the English, and that the crown shall be\nset upon his head. And this, with other matters which are for his\near alone I am sent to tell him; and you, good my lord, are he who\nshall send me to my King.'\n\n\"Thus she spoke, and looked at us all with those shining eyes of\nhers; yet it seemed to me she scarce saw us. Her glance did go\nbeyond, as though she were gazing in vision upon the things which\nwere to be.\"\n\n\"She was beautiful, you say?\" asked Sir Guy, whose interest was\nkeenly aroused; but who, I saw, was doubtful whether Bertrand had\nnot been deceived by some witchery of fair face and graceful form;\nfor Bertrand, albeit a man of thews and sinews and bold as a lion\nin fight, was something of the dreamer too, as warriors in all ages\nhave sometimes been.\n\n\"Yes--as an angel of God is beautiful,\" he answered, \"ask me not of\nthat; for I can tell you nothing. I know not the hue of her hair or\nof her eyes, nor what her face was like, nor her form, save that\nshe was tall and very slender; but beautiful--ah yes!--with the\nbeauty which this world cannot give; a beauty which silenced every\nflippant jest, shamed every scoffing thought, turned ridicule into\nwonder, contempt into reverence. Whether this wonderful maiden came\nin truth as a messenger of God or no, at least not one present but\nsaw well that she herself believed heart and soul in her divine\ncommission.\"\n\n\"And what answer did the Seigneur de Baudricourt make to her?\"\n\n\"He gazed upon her full for awhile, and then he suddenly asked of\nher, 'And when shall all these wonders come to pass?'\n\n\"She, with her gaze fixed still a little upwards, answered, 'Before\nmid-Lent next year shall succour reach him; then will the city of\nOrleans be in sore straight; but help shall come, and the English\nshall fly before the sword of the Lord. Afterwards shall the\nDauphin receive consecration at Rheims, and the crown of France\nshall be set upon his head, in token that he is the anointed of the\nLord.'\n\n\"'And who has told you all this, my child?' asked De Baudricourt\nthen, answering gently, as one speaks within a church.\n\n\"'Mes voix,' she answered, speaking as one who dreams, and in\ndreaming listens.\n\n\"'What voices?' asked De Baudricourt, 'and have you naught but\nvoices to instruct you in such great matters?'\n\n\"'Yes, Sire,' she answered softly, 'I have seen the great Archangel\nMichael, his sword drawn in his hand; and I know that he has drawn\nit for the deliverance of France, and that though he has chosen so\nhumble an instrument as myself, yet that to him and to the Lord of\nHeaven will he the victory and the glory.'\n\n\"When she had thus spoken there was a great silence in the hall, in\nwhich might have been heard the fall of a pin, and I vow that\nwhether it were trick of summer sunshine or no, the light about the\nmaiden seemed to grow brighter and brighter. Her face was just\nslightly uplifted as one who listens, and upon her lips there was a\nsmile.\n\n\"'And I know that you will send me to the Dauphin, Robert de\nBaudricourt,' she suddenly said, 'because my voices tell me so.'\n\n\"We all looked at De Baudricourt, who sat chin on hand, gazing at\nthe maiden as though he would read her very soul. We waited,\nwondering, for him to speak At last he did.\n\n\"'Well, my girl, I will think of all this. We have till next year,\nby your own showing, ere these great things shall come to pass. So\nget you home, and see what your father and mother say to all this,\nand whether the Archangel Michael comes again or no. Go home--be a\ngood girl, and we will see what we will see.'\"\n\n\"Was that all he promised?\" spoke Sir Guy with a short laugh. \"I\ntrow the maiden dreamer would not thank him for that word! A\ndeliverer of princes to be bidden to go home and be a good girl!\nWhat said she to that counsel?\"\n\n\"Ay, well you may ask,\" spoke Bertrand with subdued emotion. \"Just\nsuch a question sprang to my lips as I heard my kinsman's answer. I\nlooked to see her face fall, to see sparks of anger flash from her\neyes, or a great disappointment cloud the serene beauty of her\ncountenance. But instead of this a wonderful smile lighted it, and\nher sweet and resonant voice sounded clear through the hall.\n\n\"'Ah, now Seigneur, I know you for a good and true man! You speak\nas did my voices when first I heard them. \"Jeanne, sois bonne et\nsage enfant; va souvent a l'eglise\"; that was their first message\nto me, when I was but a child; and now you say the same to me--be a\ngood girl. Thus I know that your heart is right, and that when my\nLord's time is come you will send me with His message to the\nDauphin.'\n\n\"And so saying she bent again in a modest reverence before us. Yet\nlet me tell you that as she did so, every man of us sprang to his\nfeet by an impulse which each one felt, yet none could explain. As\none man we rose, and bowed before her, as she retired from the hail\nwith the simple, stately grace of a young queen. Not till the door\nhad closed behind her did we bethink us that it was to a humble\npeasant girl we had paid unconscious homage. We who had thought she\nwould well-nigh sink to the dust at sight of us, had been made to\nfeel that we were in the presence of royalty!\"\n\n\"Tu Dieu! but that is a strange story!\" quoth Sir Guy with knitted\nbrows. \"For many a long day I have heard nought so strange! What\nthink you of it yourself, good Bertrand? For by my troth you speak\nlike a man convinced that a miracle may even yet be wrought for\nFrance at the hand of this maid.\"\n\n\"And if I do, is that so strange? Cannot it be that the good God\nmay still speak through His saints to the sons of men, and may\nraise up a deliverer for us, even as He did in the days of old for\nHis chosen people? Is His arm shortened at all? And is it meet that\nwe Christian knights should trust Him less than did the Jews of\nold?\"\n\nSir Guy made no reply, but fell into thought, and then asked a\nsudden question:\n\n\"Who is this peasant maid of whom you speak? And where is she now?\nIs she still abiding content at home, awaiting the time appointed\nby her visions?\"\n\n\"I trow that she is,\" answered Bertrand. \"I did hear that she went\nhome without delay, as quietly as she had come. Her name is Jeanne\nd'Arc. She dwells in the village of Domremy over yonder. Her father\nis an honest prud'homme of the place. She has brothers and a\nsister. She is known in the village as a pious and gentle maid,\never ready to tend the sick, hold vigil for the dead, take charge\nof an ailing child, or do any such simple service for the\nneighbours. She is beloved of all, full of piety and good works,\nconstant in attendance at church, regular in her confession and at\nmass. So much have I heard from her kinsman Laxart, though for mine\nown part I have not seen her again.\"\n\n\"And what thinks De Baudricourt of her mission? Does he ever speak\nof it?\"\n\n\"Not often; and yet I know that he has not forgotten it. For\nofttimes he does sink into a deep reverie; and disjointed words\nbreak from him, which tell me whither his thoughts have flown.\n\n\"At the first he did say to me, 'Let the girl go home; let us see\nif we hear more of her. If this be but a phantasy on her part; if\nshe has been fasting and praying and dreaming, till she knows not\nwhat is true and what is her own imagining, why, time will cure her\nof her fancies and follies. If otherwise--well, we will see when\nthe time comes. To act in haste were to act with folly.'\n\n\"And so he dismissed the matter, though, as I say, he doth not\nforget it, and I think never a day comes but he thinks on it.\"\n\n\"And while the Lord waits, the English are active!\" cried Sir Guy\nwith a note of impatience in his voice. \"They are already\nthreatening Orleans. Soon they will march in strength upon it. And\nif that city once fall, why what hope is there even for such\nremnants of his kingdom as still remain faithful south of the\nLoire? The English will have them all. Already they call our King\nin mockery 'the King of Bourges;' soon even that small domain will\nbe reft away, and then what will remain for him or for us? If the\nvisions of the maiden had been true, why doth not the Lord strike\nnow, before Salisbury of England can invest the city? If Orleans\nfall, all is lost!\"\n\n\"But Jeanne says that Orleans shall be saved,\" spoke Bertrand in a\nlow voice, \"and if she speaks sooth, must not she and we alike\nleave the times and seasons in the hand of the Lord?\"\n\nSir Guy shrugged his shoulders, and gave me a shrewd glance, the\nmeaning of which I was at no loss to understand. He thought that\nBertrand's head had been something turned, and that he had become a\nvisionary, looking rather for a miracle from heaven than for\ndeliverance from the foe through hard fighting by loyal men\nmarching under the banner of their King. Truth we all knew well\nthat little short of a miracle would arouse the indolent and\ndiscouraged Charles, cowed by the English foe, doubtful of his own\nright to call himself Dauphin, distrustful of his friends,\ndespairing of winning the love or trust of his subjects. But could\nit indeed be possible that such a miracle could be wrought, and by\nan instrument so humble as a village maid--this Jeanne d'Arc?\n\nBut the time had come when we must say adieu to our comrade, and\nturn ourselves back to Vaucouleurs, if we were not to be benighted\nin the forest ere we could reach that place. We halted for our\nserving men to come up; and as we did so Bertrand said in a low\nvoice to Sir Guy:\n\n\"I pray you, Seigneur de Laval, speak no word to His Majesty of\nthis maid and her mission, until such time as news may reach him of\nher from other sources.\"\n\n\"I will say no word,\" answered the other, smiling, and so with many\nfriendly words we parted, and Bertrand and I, with one servant\nbehind us, turned our horses' heads back along the road by which we\nhad come.\n\n\"Bertrand,\" I said, as the shadows lengthened, the soft dusk fell\nin the forest, and the witchery of the evening hour fell upon my\nheart, \"I would that I could see this maiden of whom you speak,\nthis Jeanne d'Arc of the village of Domremy.\"\n\nHe turned and looked me full in the face; I saw his eyes glow and\nthe colour deepen in his cheeks.\n\n\"You would not go to mock, friend Jean de Metz?\" he said, for so I\nam generally named amongst my friends.\n\n\"Nay,\" I answered truthfully, \"there is no thought of mockery in my\nheart; yet I fain would see the Maid.\"\n\nHe paused awhile in thought and then made answer:\n\n\"At least we may ride together one day to Domremy; but whether or\nno we see the Maid will be according to the will of Heaven.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II. HOW I FIRST SAW THE MAID.\n\n\nI did not forget my desire to see this maiden of Domremy, nor did\nBertrand, I trow, forget the promise, albeit some days passed by\nere we put our plan into action.\n\nBad news kept coming in to the little loyal township of\nVaucouleurs. There was no manner of doubt but that the English\nRegent, Bedford, was resolved to lose no more time, but seek to put\nbeneath his iron heel the whole of the realm of France. Gascony had\nbeen English so long that the people could remember nothing\ndifferent than the rule of the Roy Outremer--as of old they called\nhim. Now all France north of the Loire owned the same sway, and as\nall men know, the Duke of Burgundy was ally to the English, and\nhated the Dauphin with a deadly hatred, for the murder of his\nfather--for which no man can justly blame him. True, his love for\nthe English had cooled manifestly since that affair of Duke\nHumphrey of Gloucester and Jacquelaine of Brabant, in which as was\nnatural, he took the part of his brother; but although the Duke of\nBedford was highly indignant with Duke Humphrey, and gave him no\nmanner of support in his rash expedition, yet the Duke of Burgundy\nresented upon the English what had been done, and although it did\nnot drive him into the arms of the Dauphin, whom he hated worse, it\nloosened the bond between him and our foes, and we had hoped it\nmight bring about a better state of things for our party. Yet\nalas!--this seemed as far as ever from being so; and the Burgundian\nsoldiers still ravaged along our borders, and it seemed ofttimes as\nthough we little loyal community of the Duchy of Bar would be\nswallowed up altogether betwixt the two encroaching foes. So our\nhearts were often heavy and our faces grave with fear.\n\nI noted in the manner of the Governor, whose guest I had now\nbecome, a great gravity, which in old days had not been there; for\nRobert de Baudricourt, as I remembered him, had ever been a man of\nmerry mood, with a great laugh, a ready jest, and that sort of\nrough, bluff courage that makes light of trouble and peril.\n\nNow, however, we often saw him sunk in some deep reverie, his chin\nupon his hand, his eyes gazing full into the blaze of the leaping\nfire of logs, which always flamed upon the hearth in the great\nhall, where the most part of his time was spent. He would go\nhunting or hawking by day, or ride hither and thither through the\ntown, looking into matters there, or sit to listen to the affairs\nof the citizens or soldiers as they were brought before him; and at\nsuch times his manner would be much as it had ever been of\nyore--quick, almost rough, yet not unkindly--whilst the shrewd\njustice he always meted out won the respect of the people, and made\nhim a favourite in the town.\n\nBut when the evening fell, and the day's work was done, and after\nsupper we sat in the hall, with the dogs slumbering around us,\ntalking of any news which might have come in, either of raids by\nthe roving Burgundians, or the advance of the English towards\nOrleans, then these darker moods would fall upon him; and once when\nhe had sat for well-nigh an hour without moving, his brow drawn and\nfurrowed, and his eyes seemingly sunk deeper in his head, Bertrand\nleaned towards me and whispered in mine ear:\n\n\"He is thinking of the Maid of Domremy!\"\n\nDe Baudricourt could not have heard the words, yet when he spoke a\nbrief while later, it almost seemed as though he might have done\nso.\n\n\"Nephew,\" he said, lifting his head abruptly and gazing across at\nus, \"tell me again the words of that prophecy of Merlin's, spoken\nlong, long ago, of which men whisper in these days, and of which\nyou did speak to me awhile back.\"\n\n\"Marry, good mine uncle, the prophecy runs thus,\" answered\nBertrand, rising and crossing over towards the great fire before\nwhich his kinsman sat, \"'That France should be destroyed by the\nwiles of a woman, and saved and redeemed by a maiden.'\"\n\nThe bushy brows met in a fierce scowl over the burning eyes; his\nwords came in a great burst of indignation and scorn.\n\n\"Ay, truly--he spake truly--the wise man--the wizard! A woman to be\nthe ruin of the kingdom! Ay, verily, and has it not been so? Who\nbut that wicked Queen Isabeau is at the bottom of the disgraceful\nTreaty of Troyes, wherein France sold herself into the hands of the\nEnglish? Did she not repudiate her own son? Did not her hatred burn\nso fiercely against him that she was ready to tarnish her own good\nfame and declare him illegitimate, rather than that he should\nsucceed his father as King of France? Did she not give her daughter\nto the English King in wedlock, that their child might reign over\nthis fair realm? Truly has the kingdom been destroyed by the wiles\nof a woman! But I vow it will take more than the strength of any\nmaiden to save and redeem it from the woes beneath which it lies\ncrushed!\"\n\n\"In sooth it doth seem so,\" answered Bertrand with grave and\nearnest countenance, \"but yet with the good God nothing is\nimpossible. Hath He not said before this that He doth take of the\nmean and humble to confound the great of the earth? Did not the\nthree hundred with Gideon overcome the hosts of the Moabites? Did\nnot the cake of barley bread overturn the tent and the camp of the\nfoe?\"\n\n\"Ay, if the good God will arise to work miracles again, such things\nmight be; but how can we look for Him to do so? What manner of man\nis the Dauphin of France that he should look for divine\ndeliverance? 'God helps those who help themselves,' so says the\nproverb; but what of those who lie sunk in lethargy or despair, and\nseek to drown thought or care in folly and riotous living--heedless\nof the ruin of the realm?\"\n\n\"There is another proverb, good mine uncle, that tells how man's\nextremity is God's opportunity,\" quoth Bertrand thoughtfully; \"if\nwe did judge of God's mercy by man's worthiness to receive the\nsame, we might well sink in despair. But His power and His goodness\nare not limited by our infirmities, and therein alone lies our\nhope.\"\n\nDe Baudricourt uttered a sound between a snort and a grunt. I knew\nnot what he thought of Bertrand's answer; but that brief dialogue\naroused within me afresh the desire I had before expressed to see\nthe maid, Jeanne of Domremy; and as the sun upon the morrow shone\nout bright and clear, after a week of heavy rain storms, we agreed\nthat no better opportunity could we hope for to ride across to the\nlittle village, and try whether it were possible to obtain speech\nwith the young girl about whom such interest had been aroused in\nsome breasts.\n\nWe spoke no word to De Baudricourt of our intention. Bertrand knew\nfrom his manner that he was thinking more and more earnestly of\nthat declaration on the part of the village maiden that her\nLord--the King of Heaven--had revealed to her that she must be sent\nto the Dauphin, to help him to drive out the English from his\ncountry, and to place the crown of France upon his head, and that\nhe, Robert de Baudricourt, was the instrument who would be used to\nspeed her on her way. Bertrand knew that this thought was weighing\nupon the mind of his kinsman, and the more so as the time for the\nfulfilment of the prophecy drew nearer.\n\nAutumn had come. Winter was hard at hand; and before Mid-Lent the\npromised succour to France was to arrive through the means of this\nmaiden--this Jeanne d'Arc.\n\n\"He is waiting and watching,\" spoke Bertrand, as we rode through\nthe forest, the thinning leaves of which allowed the sunlight to\nplay merrily upon our path. \"He says in his heart that if this\nthing be of God, the Maid will come again when the time draws near;\nbut that if it is phantasy, or if she be deluded of the Devil,\nperchance his backwardness will put a check upon her ardour, and we\nshall hear no more of it. The Abbe Perigord, his Confessor, has\nbidden him beware lest it be a snare of the Evil One\"--and as he\nspoke these words Bertrand crossed himself, and I did the like, for\nthe forest is an ill place in which to talk of the Devil, as all\nmen know.\n\n\"But for my part, when I think upon her words, and see again the\nlook of her young face, I cannot believe that she has been thus\ndeceived; albeit we are told that the Devil can make himself appear\nas an angel of light.\"\n\nThis was the puzzle, of course. But surely the Church had power to\ndiscern betwixt the wiles of the Evil One and the finger of God.\nThere were words and signs which any possessed of the Devil must\nneeds fly before. I could not think that the Church need fear\ndeception, even though a village maid might be deceived.\n\nThe forest was very beautiful that day, albeit travelling was\nsomething slow, owing to the softness of the ground, and the\nswollen condition of the brooks, which often forced us to go round\nby the bridges instead of taking the fords; so that we halted a few\nmiles from Domremy to bait our horses and to appease our own\nhunger, for by that time our appetite was sharp set.\n\nIt was there, as we sat at table, and talked with mine host, that\nwe heard somewhat more of this Maid, whom we had started forth in\nhopes to see.\n\nBertrand was known for the kinsman of De Baudricourt and all the\ncountryside knew well the tale, how that Jeanne d'Arc had gone to\nhim in the springtide of the year, demanding an escort to the\nDauphin King of France, for whom she had a message from the King of\nHeaven, and whom she was to set upon his throne.\n\n\"When she came home again, having accomplished nothing,\" spoke the\ninnkeeper, leaning his hands upon the table and greatly enjoying\nthe sound of his own voice, \"all the village made great mock of\nher! They called her the King's Marshal, the Little Queen, Jeanne\nthe Prophetess, and I know not what beside. Her father was right\nwroth with her. Long ago he had a dream about her, which troubled\nhim somewhat, as he seemed to see his daughter in the midst of\nfighting men, leading them on to battle.\"\n\n\"Did he dream that? Surely that is something strange for the vision\nof a village prud'homme anent his little daughter.\"\n\n\"Ay truly, though at the time he thought little of it, but when all\nthis came to pass he recalled it again; and he smote Jeanne upon\nthe ear with his open hand, and bid her return to her needle and\nher household tasks, and think no more of matters too great for\nher. Moreover, he declared that if ever she were to disgrace\nherself by mingling with men-at-arms, he would call upon her\nbrothers to drown her, and if they disobeyed him, he would take and\ndo it with his own hands!\"\n\n\"A Spartan father, truly!\" murmured Bertrand.\n\n\"O ay--but he is a very honest man, is Jacques d'Arc; and he was\nvery wroth at all the talk about his daughter, and he vowed she\nshould wed an honest man, as she is now of age to do, and so forget\nher dreams and her visions, and take care of her house and her\nhusband and the children the good God should send them--like other\nwedded wives.\"\n\n\"Then has she indeed wedded?\" asked Bertrand earnestly.\n\n\"Ah, that is another story!\" answered our host, wagging his head\nand spreading out his hands. \"It would take too long were I to tell\nyou all, messires; but so much will I tell. They did find a man who\nhad long desired the pretty Jeanne for his wife, and he did\nforswear himself and vow that he had been betrothed to Jeanne with\nher own free will and consent, and that now he claimed her as his\nwife. Jeanne, whose courage is high, though she be so quiet and\nmodest in her daily life, did vehemently deny the charge, whereupon\nthe angry father and his friend, the claimant of her hand, did\nbring it into the court, and the Maid had to defend herself there\nfrom the accusation of broken faith. But by St. Michael and all his\nangels!--how she did confound them all! She asked no help from\nlawyers, though one did offer himself to her. She called no\nwitnesses herself; but she questioned the witnesses brought against\nher, and also the man who would fain have become her lord, and out\nof their own mouths did she convict them of lying and hypocrisy and\nconspiracy, so that she was triumphantly acquitted, and her judges\ncalled her a most wonderful child, and told her mother to be proud\nof such a daughter!\"\n\nI saw a flush rise to Bertrand's cheek, a flush as of pride and\njoy. And indeed, I myself rejoiced to hear the end of the tale; for\nit did seem as though this maiden had been persecuted with rancour\nand injustice, and that is a thing which no man can quietly endure\nto hear or see.\n\n\"And how have they of Domremy behaved themselves to her since?\" I\nasked; and Bertrand listened eagerly for the answer.\n\n\"Oh, they have taken her to favour once more; her father has been\nkind again; her mother ever loved Jeanne much, for her gentleness\nand beauty and helpfulness at home. All the people love her, when\nnot stirred to mockery by such fine pretensions. If she will remain\nquietly at home like a wise and discreet maiden, no one will long\nremember against her her foolish words and dreams.\"\n\nAs we rode through the fields and woodlands towards Domremy, the\nlight began to take the golden hue which it does upon the autumn\nafternoon, and upon that day it shone with a wonderful radiance\nsuch as is not uncommon after rain. We were later than we had\nmeant, but there would be a moon to light us when the sun sank, and\nboth we and our horses knew the roads well; or we could even sleep,\nif we were so minded, at the auberge where we had dined. So we were\nin no haste or hurry. We picked our way leisurely towards the\nvillage, and Bertrand told me of the Fairy Well and the Fairy Tree\nin the forest hard by, so beloved of the children of Domremy, and\nof which so much has been heard of late, though at that time I knew\nnothing of any such things.\n\nBut fairy lore has ever a charm for me, and I bid him show me these\nsame things. So we turned a little aside into the forest, and found\nourselves in a lovely glade, where the light shone so soft and\ngolden, and where the songs of the birds sounded so sweet and\nmelodious, that I felt as though we were stepping through an\nenchanted world, and well could I believe that the fairies danced\naround the well, sunk deep in its mossy dell, and fringed about\nwith ferns and flowers and the shade of drooping trees.\n\nBut fairies there were none visible to our eyes, and we moved\nsoftly onwards towards the spreading tree hard by. But ere we\nreached it, we both drew rein as by a common impulse, for we had\nseen a sight which arrested and held us spellbound, ay, and more\nthan that, for the wonder and amaze of it fell also upon the horses\nwe bestrode. For scarcely had we drawn rein, before they both began\nto tremble and to sweat, and stood with their forefeet planted,\ntheir necks outstretched, their nostrils distended; uttering short,\ngasping, snorting sounds, as a horse will do when overcome by some\nterror. But for all this they were as rigid as if they had been\ncarved in stone.\n\nAnd now, what did we see? Let me try and tell, so far as my poor\nwords may avail. Beneath a spreading tree just a stone's throw to\nthe right of where we stood, and with nothing between to hinder our\nview of her, a peasant maiden, dressed in the white coif, red\nskirt, and jacket and kerchief of her class, had been bending over\nsome fine embroidery which she held in her hands. We just caught a\nglimpse of her thus before the strange thing happened which caused\nus to stop short, as though some power from without restrained us.\n\nHard by, as I know now, stood the village, shut out from view by\nthe trees, with its little church, and the homestead of Jacques\nd'Arc nestling almost within its shadow. At the moment of which I\nspeak the bell rang forth for the Angelus, with a full, sweet tone\nof silvery melody; and at the very same instant the work dropped\nfrom the girl's hands, and she sank upon her knees. At the first\nmoment, although instinctively, we reined back our horses and\nuncovered our heads, I had no thought but that she was a devout\nmaiden following the office of the Church out here in the wood. But\nas she turned her upraised face a little towards us, I saw upon it\nsuch a look as I have never seen on human countenance before, nor\nhave ever seen (save upon hers) since. A light seemed to shine\neither from it or upon it--how can I tell which?--a light so pure\nand heavenly that no words can fully describe it, but which seemed\nlike the radiance of heaven itself. Her eyes were raised towards\nthe sky, her lips parted, and through the breathless hush of\nsilence which had fallen upon the wood, we heard the soft, sweet\ntones of her voice.\n\n\"Speak, my Lord--Thy servant heareth!\"\n\nIt was then that our horses showed the signs of terror of which I\nhave before spoken. For myself, I saw nothing save the shining face\nof the Maid--I knew who it was--there was no need for Bertrand's\nbreathless whisper--\"It is she--herself!\"--I knew it in my heart\nbefore.\n\nShe knelt there amid the fallen leaves, her face raised, her lips\nparted, her eyes shining as surely never human eyes have shone\nbefore. A deep strange hush had fallen over all nature, broken only\nby the gentle music of the bell. The ruddy gold light of\napproaching sunset bathed all the wood in glory, and the rays fell\nupon the kneeling figure, forming a halo of glory round it. But she\ndid not heed, she did not see. She was as one in a trance,\ninsensible to outward vision. Once and again her lips moved, but we\nheard no word proceed from them, only the rapt look upon her face\nincreased in intensity, and once I thought (for I could not turn my\ngaze away) that I saw the gleam of tears in her eyes.\n\nThe bell ceased as we stood thus motionless, and as the last note\nvibrated through the still air, a change came over the Maid. Her\nhead drooped, she hid her face in her hands, and thus she knelt as\none absorbed in an intensity of prayer. Even as this happened, the\npeculiar glory of the sunlight seemed to change. It shone still,\nbut without such wonderful glow, and our horses at the same time\nceased their trembling and their rigid stillness of pose. They\nshook their heads and jingled their bits, as though striving to\nthrow off some terrifying impression.\n\n\"Let us withdraw from her sight,\" whispered Bertrand touching my\narm, and very willingly I acceded to this suggestion, and we\nsilently pressed into the shadow of some great oaks, which stood\nhard by, the trunks of which hid us well from view. It seemed\nalmost like a species of sacrilege to stand there watching the Maid\nat her prayers, and yet I vow, that until the bell ceased we had no\nmore power to move than our horses. Why we were holden by this\nstrange spell I know not. I can only speak the truth. We saw\nnothing and we heard nothing of any miraculous kind, and yet we\nwere like men in a dream, bound hand and foot by invisible bonds, a\nwitness of something unseen to ourselves, which we saw was visible\nto another.\n\nBeneath the deep shadow of the oaks we looked back. The Maid had\nrisen to her feet by this, and was stooping to pick up her fallen\nwork. That done, she stood awhile in deep thought, her face turned\ntowards the little church, whence the bell had only just ceased to\nsound.\n\nI saw her clearly then--a maiden slim and tall, so slender that the\nrather clumsy peasant dress she wore could not give breadth or\nawkwardness to her lithe figure. The coif had slipped a little out\nof place, and some tresses of waving hair had escaped from beneath\nit, tresses that looked dark till the sun touched them, and then\nglowed like burnished gold. Her face was pale, with features in no\nway marked, but so sweet and serene was the expression of the face,\nso wonderful was the depth of the great dark eyes, that one was\nlost in admiration of her beauty, albeit unable to define wherein\nthat beauty lay.\n\nWhen we started forth, I had meant to try and seek speech with this\nJeanne--this Maid of Domremy--and to ask her of her mission, and\nwhether she were still believing that she would have power to carry\nit out; but this purpose now died within me.\n\nHow could I dare question such a being as to her visions? Had I not\nseen how she was visited by sound or sight not sensible to those\naround her? Had I not in some sort been witness to a miracle? Was\nit for us to approach and ask of her what had been thus revealed?\nNo!--a thousand times no! If the good God had given her a message,\nshe would know when and where to deliver it. She had spoken before\nof her voices. Let them instruct her. Let not men seek to\ninterfere. And so we remained where we were, hidden in the deep\nshadows, whilst Jeanne, with bent head and lingering, graceful\nsteps, utterly unconscious of the eyes that watched her, went\nslowly out of sight along the glade leading towards the village and\nher home.\n\nOnly when she had disappeared did we venture to move on in her\nwake, and so passed by the low-browed house, set in its well-tended\nlittle garden, where the d'Arc family lived. It lay close to the\nchurch, and bore a look of pleasant homelike comfort. We saw Jeanne\nbending tenderly over a chair, in which reclined the bent form of a\nlittle crippled sister. We even heard the soft, sweet voice of the\nMaid, as she answered some question asked her from within the open\ndoor. Then she lifted the bent form in her arms, and I did note how\nstrong that slim frame must be, for the burden seemed as nothing to\nher as she bore it within the house; and then she disappeared from\nview, and we rode onwards together.\n\n\"There, my friend,\" spoke Bertrand at last, \"I have kept my\npromise, you have seen the Maid.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" I answered gravely, \"I have seen the Maid,\" and after that\nwe spoke no word for many a mile.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III. HOW THE MAID CAME TO VAUCOULEURS.\n\n\nIt may yet be remembered by some how early the snow came that year,\nto the eastern portion of France at least. I think scarce a week\nhad passed since our journey to Domremy, before a wild gale from\nthe northeast brought heavy snow, which lay white upon the ground\nfor many long weeks, and grew deeper and deeper as more fell, till\nthe wolves ravaged right up to the very walls of Vaucouleurs, and\nsome of the country villages were quite cut off from intercourse\nwith the world.\n\nThus it came about that I was shut up in Vaucouleurs with my good\ncomrade and friend Bertrand, in the Castle of which Robert de\nBaudricourt was governor, and for awhile little news reached us\nfrom the outside world, though such news as did penetrate to our\nsolitude was all of disaster for the arms of France.\n\nWe never spoke to De Baudricourt of our expedition to Domremy, nor\ntold him that we had seen the Maid again. Yet methinks not a day\npassed without our thinking of her, recalling something of that\nwonderful look we had seen upon her face, and asking in our hearts\nwhether indeed she were truly visited by heavenly visions sent by\nGod, and whether she indeed heard voices which could reach no ears\nbut hers.\n\nI observed that Bertrand was more regular in attendance at the\nservices of the Church, and especially at Mass, than was usual with\nyoung knights in those days, and for my part, I felt a stronger\ndesire after such spiritual aids than I ever remember to have done\nin my life before. It became a regular thing with us to attend the\nearly Mass in the little chapel of the Castle; and, instead of\ngrowing lax (as I had done before many times in my roving life), as\nto attending confession and receiving the Holy Sacrament, I now\nbegan to feel the need for both, as though I were preparing me for\nsome great and solemn undertaking. I cannot well express in words\nthe feeling which possessed me--ay, and Bertrand too--for we began\nto speak of the matter one with another--but it seemed to us both\nas though a high and holy task lay before us, for which we must\nneeds prepare ourselves with fasting and prayer; I wondered if,\nperhaps, it was thus that knights and men in days of old felt when\nthey had taken the Red Cross, and had pledged themselves to some\nCrusade in the East.\n\nWell, thus matters went on, quietly enough outwardly, till the\nFeast of the Nativity had come and gone, and with that feast came a\nwonderful change in the weather. The frost yielded, the south wind\nblew soft, the snow melted away one scarce knew how, and a breath\nof spring seemed already in the air, though we did not dare to hope\nthat winter was gone for good and all.\n\nIt was just when the year had turned that we heard a rumour in the\ntown, and it was in this wise that it reached our ears. De\nBaudricourt had been out with his dogs, chasing away the wolves\nback into their forest lairs. He had left us some business to\nattend to for him within the Castle, else should we doubtless have\nbeen of the party. But he was the most sagacious huntsman of the\ndistrict, and a rare day's sport they did have, killing more than a\nscore of wolves, to the great joy of the townsfolk and of the\ncountry people without the walls. It was dark ere he got home, and\nhe came in covered with mud from head to foot; the dogs, too, were\nso plastered over, that they had to be given to the servants to\nclean ere they could take their wonted places beside the fire; and\nsome of the poor beasts had ugly wounds which needed to be washed\nand dressed.\n\nBut what struck us most was that De Baudricourt, albeit so\nsuccessful in his hunt, seemed little pleased with his day's work.\nHis face was dark, as though a thunder cloud lay athwart it, and he\ngave but curt answers to our questions, as he stood steaming before\nthe fire and quaffing a great tankard of spiced wine which was\nbrought to him. Then he betook himself to his own chamber to get\nhim dry garments, and when he came down supper was already served.\nHe sat him down at the head of the table, still silent and morose;\nand though he fell with right good will upon the viands, he scarce\nopened his lips the while, and we in our turn grew silent, for we\nfeared that he had heard the news of some disaster to the French\narms, which he was brooding over in silent gloom.\n\nBut when the retainers and men-at-arms had disappeared, and we had\ngathered round the fire at the far end of the hall, as was our\nwont, then he suddenly began to speak.\n\n\"Went ye into the town today?\" he suddenly asked of us.\n\nWe answered him, Nay, that we had been occupied all day within the\nCastle over the services there he had left us to perform.\n\n\"And have you heard nought of the commotion going on there?\"\n\n\"We have heard nought. Pray what hath befallen, good sir? Is it\nsome disaster? Hath Orleans fallen into the hands of the English?\"\n\nFor that was the great fear possessing all loyal minds at this\nperiod.\n\n\"Nay, it is nought so bad as that,\" answered De Baudricourt, \"and\nyet it is bad enough, I trow. That mad girl from Domremy is now in\nthe town, telling all men that Robert de Baudricourt hath been\nappointed of God to send her to the Dauphin at Chinon, and that she\nmust needs start thither soon, to do the work appointed her of\nheaven.\n\n\"Dents de Dieu!--the folly of it is enough to raise the hair on\none's head! Send a little paysanne to the King with a wild story\nlike hers! 'Tis enough to make the name of De Baudricourt the\nlaughingstock of the whole country!\"\n\nI felt a great throb at heart when I heard these words. Then the\nMaid had not forgot! This time of waiting had not bred either\nindifference or doubt. The time appointed was drawing near, and she\nhad come to Vaucouleurs once more, to do that which was required of\nher!\n\nO, was it not wonderful? Must not it be of heaven, this thing? And\nshould we seek to put the message aside as a thing of nought?\n\nBertrand was already speaking eagerly with his kinsman; but it\nseemed as though his words did only serve to irritate the Governor\nthe more. In my heart I was sure that had he been certain the Maid\nwas an impostor, he would have been in no wise troubled or\ndisturbed, but would have contented himself by sharply ordering her\nto leave the town and return home and trouble him no more. It was\nbecause he was torn by doubts as to her mission that he was thus\nperturbed in spirit. He dared not treat her in this summary\nfashion, lest haply he should be found to be fighting against God;\nand yet he found it hard to believe that any deliverance for\nhapless France could come through the hands of a simple, unlettered\npeasant girl; and he shrank with a strong man's dislike from making\nhimself in any sort an object of ridicule, or of seeming to give\ncredence to a wild tale of visions and voices, such as the world\nwould laugh to scorn. So he was filled with doubt and perplexity,\nand this betrayed itself in gloomy looks and in harsh speech.\n\n\"Tush, boy! You are but an idle dreamer. I saw before that you were\nfooled by a pretty face and a silvery voice. Go to!--your words are\nbut phantasy! Who believes in miracles now?\"\n\n\"If we believe in the power of the good God, shall we not also\nbelieve that He can work even miracles at His holy will?\"\n\n\"Poof--miracles!--the dreams of a vain and silly girl!\" scoffed De\nBaudricourt, \"I am sick of her name already!\"\n\nThen he suddenly turned upon me and spoke.\n\n\"Jean de Metz, you are a knight of parts. You have sense and\ndiscretion above your years, and are no featherhead like Bertrand\nhere. Will you undertake a mission from me to this maiden? Ask of\nher the story of her pretended mission. Seek to discover from her\nwhether she be speaking truth, or whether she be seeking to\ndeceive. Catch her in her speech if it may be. See whether the tale\nshe tells hang together, and then come and report to me. If she be\na mad woman, why should I be troubled with her? She cannot go to\nthe Dauphin yet, come what may. The melting snows have laid the\nvalleys under water, the roads are impassable; horses would stick\nfast in the mire, and we are not at the end of winter yet. She must\nneeds wait awhile, whatever her message may be, but I would have\nyou get speech of her, and straightly question her from me. Then if\nit seem well, I can see her again; but if you be willing, you shall\ndo so first.\"\n\nI was more than willing. I was rejoiced to have this occasion for\ngetting speech with the Maid. I spoke no word of having had sight\nof her already, but fell in with De Baudricourt's wish that I\nshould go to her as if a mere passing stranger, and only afterwards\nreveal myself as his emissary. I slept but little all that night,\nmaking plans as to all that I should speak when I saw her on the\nmorrow, and, rising early, I betook myself to Mass, not to the\nprivate chapel of the Castle, but to one of the churches in the\ntown, though I could not have said why it was that I was moved to\ndo this.\n\nYet as I knelt in my place I knew, for there amongst the\nworshippers, her face upraised and full of holy joy, her eyes\nalight with the depth of her devotion, her hands clasped in an\necstasy of prayer, was the Maid herself; and I found it hard to\nturn my eyes from her wonderful face, to think upon the office as\nit was recited by the priest.\n\nI did not seek speech of her then, for she tarried long in the\nchurch over her prayers. I felt at last like one espying on\nanother, and so I came away. But after breakfast, as the sun shone\nforth and began to light up the narrow streets of the little town,\nI sallied forth again alone, and asked of the first citizen I met\nwhere could be found the dwelling place of one Jeanne d'Arc, from\nDomremy, who was paying a visit to the town.\n\nI had scarce need to say so much as this. It seemed that all the\npeople in the town had heard of the arrival of the Maid. I know not\nwhether they believed in her mission, or whether they scoffed at\nit; but at least it was the talk of the place how she had come\nbefore, and fearlessly faced the Governor and his council, and had\nmade her great demand from him, and how she had come once again,\nnow that the year was born and Lent approaching, in the which she\nhad said she must seek and find the Dauphin. Thus the man was able\nat once to give me the information I asked, and told me that the\ngirl was lodging with Henri Leroyer the saddler, and Catherine his\nwife, naming the street where they dwelt, but adding that I should\nhave no trouble in finding the house, for the people flocked to it\nto get a sight of the Maid, and to ask her questions concerning her\nmission hither, and what she thought she was about to accomplish.\n\nAnd truly I did find that this honest citizen had spoken the truth,\nfor as I turned into the narrow street where Leroyer lived, I saw\nquite a concourse of people gathered about the house, and though\nthey made way for me to approach, knowing that I was from the\nCastle, I saw that they were very eager to get sight or speech of\nthe Maid, who was standing at the open door of the shop, and\nspeaking in an earnest fashion to those nearest her.\n\nI made as though I were a passing stranger, who had just heard\nsomewhat of her matter from the bystanders, and I addressed her in\nfriendly fashion, rather as one who laughs.\n\n\"What are you doing here, ma mie? And what is this I hear? Is it\nnot written in the book of fate that the King or Dauphin of France\nmust be overcome of England's King, and that we must all become\nEnglish, or else be driven into the sea, or banished from the\nrealm?\"\n\nThen for the first time her wonderful eyes fastened themselves on\nmy face, and I felt as though my very soul were being read.\n\n\"Nay, sire,\" she answered, and there was something so flute-like\nand penetrating in her tones that they seemed to sink into my very\nsoul, \"but the Lord of Heaven Himself is about to fight for France,\nand He has sent me to the Governor here, who will direct me to the\nDauphin, who knows nothing of me as yet. But I am to bring him\nhelp, and that by Mid-Lent. So I pray you, gentle knight, go tell\nRobert de Baudricourt that he must needs bestir himself in this\nbusiness, for my voices tell me that the hour is at hand when, come\nwhat may, I must to Chinon, even though I wear my legs to the knees\nin going thither.\"\n\n\"Why should I tell this to the Seigneur de Baudricourt?\" I asked,\nmarvelling at her words and the fashion of her speech.\n\n\"Because he has sent you to me,\" she answered, her eyes still on my\nface, \"and I thank him for having chosen so gracious a messenger;\nfor you have a good heart, and you are no mocker of the things my\nLord has revealed to me; and you will be one of those to do His\nwill, and to bring me safely to the Dauphin.\"\n\nHalf confounded by her words I asked:\n\n\"Who is your Lord?\"\n\n\"It is God,\" she answered, and bent her head in lowly reverence.\n\nAnd then I did a strange thing; but it seemed to be forced upon me\nfrom above by a power which I could not withstand. I fell suddenly\nto my knees before her, and put up my clasped hands, as we do when\nwe pay homage for our lands and honours to our liege lord. And, I\nspeak truth, and nought else, the Maid put her hands over mine just\nas our lord or sovereign should do, and though I dare swear she had\nnever heard my name before, she said:\n\n\"Jean de Novelpont de Metz, my Lord receives you as His faithful\nknight and servant. He will be with us now and to the end.\"\n\nAnd the people all uncovered and stood bareheaded round us, whilst\nI felt as though I had received a mandate from Heaven.\n\nThen I went into the house with Jeanne, and asked her of herself,\nand of her visions and voices. She told me of them with the gentle\nfrankness of a child, but with a reverence and humility that was\nbeautiful to see, and which was in strange contrast to some of the\nthings she spoke, wherein she told how that she herself was to be\nused of Heaven for the salvation of France.\n\nI cannot give her words as she spoke them, sitting there in the\nwindow, the light upon her face, her eyes fixed more often upon the\nsunny sky than upon her interlocutor, though now and again she\nswept me with one of her wonderful glances. She told me how from a\nchild she had heard voices, which she knew to be from above,\nspeaking to her, bidding her to be good, to go to the church, to\nattend to her simple duties at home. But as she grew older there\ncame a change. She remembered the day when first she saw a\nwonderful white light hovering above her; and this light came\nagain, and yet again; and the third time she saw in it the figure\nof an angel--more than that--of the Archangel Michael himself--the\nwarrior of Heaven; and from him she first received the message that\nshe was to be used for the deliverance of her people.\n\nShe was long in understanding what this meant. St. Michael told her\nshe should receive other angelic visitors, and often after this St.\nCatherine and St. Margaret appeared to her, and told her what was\nrequired of her, and what she must do. At first she was greatly\naffrighted, and wept, and besought them to find some other for the\ntask, since she was but a humble country maid, and knew nothing of\nthe art of warfare, and shuddered at the sight of blood. But they\ntold her to be brave, to trust in the Lord, to think only of Him\nand of His holy will towards her. And so, by degrees, she lost all\nher fears, knowing that it was not of herself she would do this\nthing, and that her angels would be with her, her saints would\nwatch over her, and her voices direct her in all that she should\nspeak or do.\n\n\"And now,\" she added, clasping her hands, and looking full into my\nface, \"now do they tell me that the time is at hand. Since last\nAscensiontide they have bid me wait in quietness for the appointed\nhour; but of late my voices have spoken words which may not be set\naside. I must be sent to the Dauphin. Orleans must be saved from\nthe hosts of the English which encompass it. I am appointed for\nthis task, and I shall accomplish it by the grace of my Lord and\nHis holy saints. Then the crown must be set upon the head of the\nDauphin, and he must be anointed as the king. After that my task\nwill be done; but not till then. And now I must needs set forth\nupon the appointed way. To the Dauphin I must go, to speak to him\nof things I may tell to none other; and the Sieur Robert de\nBaudricourt is appointed of Heaven to send me to Chinon. Wherefore,\nI pray you, gentle knight, bid him no longer delay; for I am\nstraitened in spirit till I may be about my Lord's business, and He\nwould not have me tarry longer.\"\n\nI talked with her long and earnestly. Not that I doubted her. I\ncould not do so. Although no voices came to me, yet my heart was\npenetrated by a conviction so deep and poignant that to doubt would\nhave been impossible. France had been sold and betrayed by one bad\nwoman; but here was the Maid who should arise to save! I knew it in\nmy heart; yet I still spoke on and asked questions, for I must\nneeds satisfy De Baudricourt, I must needs be able to answer all\nthat he would certainly ask.\n\n\"How old are you, fair maiden?\" I asked, as at length I rose to\ndepart, and she stood, tall and slim, before me, straight as a\nyoung poplar, graceful, despite her coarse raiment, her feet and\nhands well fashioned, her limbs shapely and supple.\n\n\"I was seventeen last week,\" she answered simply, \"the fifth of\nJanuary is my jour de fete.\"\n\n\"And your parents, what think they of this? What said they when you\nbid them farewell for such an errand?\"\n\nThe tears gathered slowly in her beautiful eyes; but they did not\nfall. She answered in a low voice:\n\n\"In sooth they know not for what I did leave them. They believed I\nwent but to visit a sick friend. I did not dare to tell them all,\nlest my father should hold me back: He is very slow to believe my\nmission; he chides me bitterly if ever word be spoken anent it. Is\nit not always so when the Lord uses one of His children? Even our\nLord's brethren and sisters believed not on Him. How can the\nservant be greater than his Lord?\"\n\n\"You fear not, then, to disobey your parents?\"\n\nI had need to put this question; for it was one that De Baudricourt\nhad insisted upon; for he knew something of Jacques d'Arc's\nopposition to his daughter's proposed campaign.\n\n\"I must obey my Lord even above my earthly parents,\" was her\nsteadfast reply; \"His word must stand the first. He knows all, and\nHe will pardon. He knows that I love my father and my mother, and\nthat if I only pleased myself I should never leave their side.\"\n\nThen suddenly as she spoke a strange look of awe fell upon her; I\nthink she had forgotten my presence, for when she spoke, her words\nwere so low that I could scarce hear them.\n\n\"I go to my death!\" she whispered, the colour ebbing from her face,\n\"but I am in the hands of my Lord; His will alone can be done.\"\n\nI went out from her presence with bent head. What did those last\nwords signify--when hitherto all she had spoken was of deliverance,\nof victory? She spoke them without knowing it. Of that I was\nassured; and therefore I vowed to keep them locked in my heart. But\nI knew that I should never forget them.\n\nI found Robert de Baudricourt awaiting my coming in the great hall,\npacing restlessly to and fro. Bertrand was with him, and I saw by\nthe tense expression upon his face that he was eager for my report.\nI gave him one quick glance upon entering, which I trow he read and\nunderstood; but to De Baudricourt I spoke with caution and with\nmeasured words, for he was a man whose scorn and ridicule were\neasily aroused, and I knew that Bertrand had fallen into a kind of\ncontempt with him, in that he had so quickly believed in the\nmission of the Maid.\n\n\"Well, and what make you of the girl? Is she witch, or mad, or\npossessed by some spirit of vainglory and ambition? What has she\nsaid to you, and what think you of her?\"\n\n\"In all truth, my lord, I believe her to be honest; and more than\nthis, I believe her to be directed of God. Strange as it may seem,\nyet such things have been before, and who are we to say that God's\narm is shortened, or that He is not the same as in the days of old?\nI have closely questioned the Maid as to her visions and voices,\nand I cannot believe them delusions of the senses. You may ask, are\nthey of the Devil? Then would I say, if there be doubt, let the\nAbbe Perigord approach her with holy water, with exorcisms, or with\nsuch sacred words and signs as devils must needs flee before. Then\nif it be established that the thing is not of the Evil One, we may\nthe better regard it as from the Lord of whom she speaks. At least,\nif she can stand this test, I would do this much for her--give her\na small escort to Chinon, with a letter to the Dauphin. After that\nyour responsibility will cease. The matter will be in the hands of\nthe King and his advisers.\"\n\n\"Ay, after I have made myself the laughingstock of the realm!\"\nburst out De Baudricourt grimly; yet after he had questioned me\nagain, and yet again, and had even held one interview himself with\nthe Maid, who came of her own accord to the Castle to ask for him\none day, he seemed to come to some decision, after much thought and\nwavering.\n\nBringing out one of his rattling oaths, he cried:\n\n\"Then if she can bear the touch of holy water, and the sign of book\nand taper and bell--and I know not what beside--then shall she be\nsent to the King at Chinon, and I, Robert de Baudricourt, will send\nher--come what may of the mission!\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV. HOW THE MAID WAS TRIED AND TESTED.\n\n\nI had myself proposed the test, and yet when the moment came I was\nashamed of myself. The Abbe had put on his robes and his stole; a\nvessel containing holy water stood before him on the table; the\nbook of the Blessed Gospels was in his hands, a boy with a taper\nstood at his side. The place was the hall of the Castle, and the\nGovernor with a few of those most in his confidence stood by to see\nwhat would follow. I was at his right hand.\n\nBertrand brought in the Maid. I know not what he had said to her,\nor whether he had prepared her for what was about to take place;\nbut however that may have been, her face wore that calm and lofty\nserenity of expression which seemed to belong to her. As she\napproached she made a lowly reverence to the priest, and stood\nbefore him where Bertrand placed her, looking at him with earnest,\nshining eyes.\n\n\"My daughter,\" spoke the Abbe gravely, \"have you security in your\nheart that the visions and voices sent to you come of good and not\nof evil? Many men and women have, ere this, been deceived--yea,\neven the holy Saints themselves have been tempted of the devil,\nthat old serpent, who is the great deceiver of the hearts and\nspirits of men. Are you well assured in your heart that you are not\nthus deceived and led away by whispers and suggestions from the\nfather of lies?\"\n\nThere was no anger in her face, but a beautiful look of reverent,\nyet joyful, confidence and peace.\n\n\"I am well assured, my father, that it is my Lord who speaks to me\nthrough His most holy and blessed Saints, and through the\never-glorious Archangel Michael.\"\n\n\"And yet, my daughter, you know that it is written in the Holy\nScriptures that the devil can transform himself into an angel of\nlight.\"\n\n\"Truly that is so, my father; but is it not also written that those\nwho put their trust in the Lord shall never be confounded?\"\n\n\"Yes, my daughter; and I pray God you may not be confounded. But it\nis my duty to try and test the spirits, so as to be a rock of\ndefence to those beneath my care. Yet if things be with you as you\nsay, you will have no fear.\"\n\n\"I have no fear, my father,\" she answered, and stood with folded\nhands and serene and smiling face whilst he went through those\nforms of exorcism and adjuration which, it is said, no evil spirit\ncan endure without crying aloud, or causing that the person\npossessed should roll and grovel in agony upon the ground, or rush\nfrantically forth out of sight and hearing.\n\nBut the Maid never moved, save to bend her head in reverence as the\nThrice Holy Name was proclaimed, and as the drops of holy water\nfell upon her brow. To me it seemed almost like sacrilege, in face\nof that pure and holy calm, to entertain for one moment a doubt of\nthe origin of her mission. Yet it may be that the test was a wise\none; for De Baudricourt and those about him watched it with close\nand breathless wonder, and one and another whispered behind his\nhand:\n\n\"Of a surety she is no witch. She could never stand thus if there\nwas aught of evil in her. Truly she is a marvellous Maid. If this\nthing be of the Lord, let us not fight against Him.\"\n\nThe trial was over. The Maid received the blessing of the Abbe,\nwho, if not convinced of the sacredness of her mission, was yet\nimpotent to prove aught against her. It is strange to me, looking\nback at those days, how far less ready of heart the ecclesiastics\nwere to receive her testimony and recognise in her the messenger of\nthe Most High than were the soldiers, whether the generals whom she\nafterwards came to know, or the men who crowded to fight beneath\nher banner. One would have thought that to priests and clergy a\ngreater grace and power of understanding would have been\nvouchsafed; but so far from this, they always held her in doubt and\nsuspicion, and were her secret foes from first to last.\n\nI made it my task to see her safely home; and as we went, I asked:\n\n\"Was it an offence to you, fair Maid, that he should thus seek to\ntest and try you?\"\n\n\"Not an offence to me, Seigneur,\" she answered gently, \"but he\nshould not have had need to do it. For he did hear my confession on\nFriday. Therefore he should have known better. It is no offence to\nme, save inasmuch as it doth seem a slighting of my Lord.\"\n\nThe people flocked around her as she passed through the streets. It\nwas wonderful how the common townsfolk believed in her. Already she\nwas spoken of as a deliverer and a saviour of her country. Nay,\nmore, her gentleness and sweetness so won upon the hearts of those\nwho came in contact with her, that mothers prayed of her to come\nand visit their sick children, or to speak words of comfort to\nthose in pain and suffering; and such was the comfort and strength\nshe brought with her, that there were whispers of miraculous cures\nbeing performed by her. In truth, I have no knowledge myself of any\nmiracle performed by her, and the Maid denied that she possessed\nsuch gifts of healing. But that she brought comfort and joy and\npeace with her I can well believe, and she had some skill with the\nsick whom she tended in her own village, so that it is likely that\nsome may have begun to mend from the time she began to visit them.\n\nAs for De Baudricourt, his mind was made up. There was something\nabout this girl which was past his understanding. Just at present\nit was not possible to send her to the King, for the rains,\nsometimes mingled with blinding snow storms, were almost incessant,\nthe country lay partially under water, and though such a journey\nmight be possible to a seasoned soldier, he declared it would be\nrank murder to send a young girl, who, perchance, had never mounted\na horse before, all that great distance. She must needs wait till\nthe waters had somewhat subsided, and till the cold had abated, and\nthe days were somewhat longer.\n\nThe Maid heard these words with grave regret, and even disapproval.\n\n\"My Lord would take care of me. I have no fear,\" she said; but De\nBaudricourt, although he now faithfully promised to send her to\nChinon, would not be moved from his resolution to wait.\n\nFor my part, I have always suspected that he sent a private\nmessenger to Chinon to ask advice what he should do, and desired to\nawait his return ere acting. But of that I cannot speak certainly,\nsince he never admitted it himself.\n\nIf the delay fretted the Maid's spirit, she never spoke with anger\nor impatience; much of her time was spent in a little chapel in the\ncrypt of the church at Vaucouleurs, where stood an image of Our\nLady, before which she would kneel sometimes for hours together in\nrapt devotion. I myself went thither sometimes to pray; and often\nhave I seen her there, so absorbed in her devotions that she knew\nnothing of who came or went.\n\nBy this time Bertrand and I had steadfastly resolved to accompany\nthe Maid not only to Chinon, but upon whatsoever campaign her\nvoices should afterwards send her. Although we were knights, we\nneither of us possessed great wealth; indeed, we had only small\nestates, and these were much diminished in value from the wasting\nwar and misfortunes of the country. Still we resolved to muster\neach a few men-at-arms, and form for her a small train; for De\nBaudricourt, albeit willing to send her with a small escort to\nChinon, had neither the wish nor the power to equip any sort of\nforce to accompany her, though there would be no small danger on\nthe journey, both from the proximity of the English in some parts,\nand the greater danger from roving bands of Burgundians, whose sole\nobject was spoil and plunder, and their pastime the slaughter of\nall who opposed them.\n\nAnd now we began to ask one another in what guise the Maid should\ntravel; for it was obvious that her cumbrous peasant garb was\nlittle suited for the work she had in hand, and we made many\nfanciful plans of robing her after the fashion of some old-time\nqueen, such as Boadicea or Semiramis, and wondered whether we could\nafford to purchase some rich clothing and a noble charger, and so\nconvey her to the King in something of regal state and pomp.\n\nBut when, one day, we spoke something of this to the Maid herself,\nshe shook her head with a smile, and said:\n\n\"Gentle knights, I give you humble and hearty thanks; but such rich\nrobes and gay trappings are not for me. My voices have bidden me\nwhat to do. I am to assume the dress of a boy, since I must needs\nlive for a while amongst soldiers and men. I am sent to do a man's\nwork, therefore in the garb of a man must I set forth. Our good\ncitizens of Vaucouleurs are already busy with the dress I must\nshortly assume. There is none other in which my work can be so well\naccomplished.\"\n\nAnd in truth we saw at once the sense of her words. She had before\nher a toilsome journey in the companionship of men. She must needs\nride, since there was no other way of travelling possible; and why\nshould the frailest and tenderest of the party be burdened by a\ndress that would incommode her at every turn?\n\nAnd when upon the very next day she appeared in the Castle yard in\nthe hose and doublet and breeches of a boy, and asked of us to give\nher her first lesson in horsemanship, all our doubts and misgivings\nfled away. She wore her dress with such grace, such ease, such\nsimplicity, that it seemed at once the right and fitting thing; and\nnot one of the soldiers in the courtyard who watched her feats that\nday, passed so much as a rude jest upon her, far less offered her\nany insult. In truth, they were speedily falling beneath the spell\nwhich she was soon to exercise upon a whole army, and it is no\nmarvel to me that this was so; for every day I felt the charm of\nher presence deepening its hold upon my heart.\n\nNever have I witnessed such quickness of mastery as the Maid\nshowed, both in her acquirement of horsemanship and in the use of\narms, in both of which arts we instructed her day by day. I had\nnoted her strength and suppleness of limb the very first day I had\nseen her; and she gave marvellous proof of it now. She possessed\nalso that power over her horse which she exercised over men, and\neach charger that she rode in turn answered almost at once to her\nvoice and hand, with a docility he never showed to other riders.\nYet she never smote or spurred them; the sound of her voice, or the\nlight pressure of knee or hand was enough. She had never any fear\nfrom the first, and was never unhorsed. Very soon she acquired such\nskill and ease that we had no fears for her with regard to the\njourney she soon must take.\n\nAlthough filling the time up thus usefully, her heart was ever set\nupon her plan, and daily she would wistfully ask:\n\n\"May we not yet sally forth to the Dauphin?\"\n\nStill she bore the delay well, never losing opportunities for\nlearning such things as might be useful to her; and towards the end\nof the month there came a peremptory summons to her from the Duke\nof Lorraine, who was lying very ill at Nancy.\n\n\"They tell me,\" he wrote to De Baudricourt, \"that you have at\nVaucouleurs a woman who may be in sooth that Maid of Lorraine who,\nit has been prophesied, is to arise and save France. I have a great\ncuriosity to see her; wherefore, I pray you, send her to me without\ndelay. It may be that she will recover me of my sickness. In any\ncase, I would fain have speech of her; so do not fail to send her\nforthwith.\"\n\nDe Baudricourt had no desire to offend his powerful neighbour, and\nhe forthwith went down to the house of Leroyer, taking Bertrand and\nme with him, to ask of the Maid whether she would go to see the\nDuke at his Court, since the journey thither was but short, and\nwould be a fitting preparation for the longer one.\n\nWe found her sitting in the saddler's shop, with one of his\nchildren on her lap, watching whilst he fashioned for her a saddle,\nwhich the citizens of Vaucouleurs were to give her. Bertrand and I\nwere to present the horse she was to ride, and I had also sent to\nmy home for a certain holiday suit and light armour made for a\nbrother of mine who had died young. I had noted that the Maid had\njust such a slim, tall figure as he, and was certain that this\nsuit, laid away by our mother in a cedar chest, would fit her as\nthough made for her. But it had not come yet, and she was habited\nin the tunic and hose she now wore at all times. Her beautiful hair\nstill hung in heavy masses round her shoulders, giving to her\nsomething of the look of a saintly warrior on painted window.\n\nLater on, when she had to wear a headpiece, she cut off her long\ncurling locks, and then her hair just framed her face like a\nnimbus; but today it was still hanging loose upon her shoulders,\nand the laughing child had got his little hands well twisted in the\nwaving mass, upon which the midday sun was shining clear and\nstrong. She had risen, and was looking earnestly at De Baudricourt;\nyet all the while she seemed to be, as it were, listening for other\nsounds than those of his voice.\n\nWhen he ceased she was silent for a brief while, and then spoke.\n\n\"I would fain it had been to the Dauphin you would send me,\nSeigneur; but since that may not be yet, I will gladly go to the\nDuke, if I may but turn aside to make my pilgrimage to the shrine\nof St Nicholas, where I would say some prayers, and ask help.\"\n\n\"Visit as many shrines as you like, so as you visit the Duke as\nwell,\" answered De Baudricourt, who always spoke with a sort of\nrough bluffness to the Maid, not unkindly, though it lacked\ngentleness. But she never evinced fear of him, and for that he\nrespected her. She showed plenty of good sense whilst the details\nof the journey were being arranged, and was in no wise abashed at\nthe prospect of appearing at a Court. How should she be, indeed,\nwho was looking forward with impatience to her appearance at the\nCourt of an uncrowned King?\n\nBertrand and I, with some half-dozen men-at-arms, were to form her\nescort, and upon the very next day, the sun shining bright, and the\nwind blowing fresh from the north over the wet lands, drying them\nsomewhat after the long rains, we set forth.\n\nThe Maid rode the horse which afterwards was to carry her so many\nlong, weary miles. He was a tall chestnut, deep in the chest,\nstrong in the flank, with a proudly arching neck, a great mane of\nflowing hair, a haughty fashion of lifting his shapely feet, and an\neye that could be either mild or fierce, according to the fashion\nin which he was treated. On his brow was a curious mark, something\nlike a cross in shape, and the colour of it was something deeper\nthan the chestnut of his coat. The Maid marked this sign at the\nfirst glance, and she called the horse her Crusader. Methinks she\nwas cheered and pleased by the red cross she thus carried before\nher, and she and her good steed formed one of those friendships\nwhich are good to see betwixt man and beast.\n\nOur journey was not adventurous; nor will I waste time in telling\novermuch about it. We visited the shrine, where the Maid passed a\nnight in fasting and vigil, and laid thereon a little simple\noffering, such as her humble state permitted. The next day she was\npresented to the Duke of Lorraine, as he lay wrapped in costly\nsilken coverlets upon his great bed in one of the most sumptuous\napartments of his Castle.\n\nHe gazed long and earnestly at the Maid, who stood beside him,\nflinching neither from his hollow gaze, nor from the more open\ncuriosity or admiration bestowed upon her by the lords and ladies\nassembled out of desire to see her. I doubt me if she gave them a\nthought. She had come to see the sick Duke, and her thoughts were\nfor him alone.\n\nThere was something very strange and beautiful in her aspect as she\nstood there. Her face was pale from her vigil and fast; her hair\nhung round it in a dark waving mass, that lighted up at the edges\nwith gold where the light touched it. Her simple boy's dress was\nsplashed and travel stained; but her wonderful serene composure was\nas marked here as it had been throughout. No fears or tremors shook\nher, nor did any sort of consciousness of self or of the\nstrangeness of her position come to mar the gentle dignity of her\nmien or the calm loveliness of her face.\n\nThe Duke raised himself on his elbow the better to look at her.\n\n\"Is this true what I have heard of you, that you are the Maid of\nLorraine, raised up, according to the word of the wizard Merlin, to\nsave France in the hour of her extremity?\"\n\n\"I am come to save France from the English,\" she answered at once;\n\"to drive them from the city of Orleans, to bring the Dauphin to\nRheims, and there see the crown set upon his head. This I know, for\nmy Lord has said it. Who I am matters nothing, save only as I\naccomplish the purpose for which I am sent.\"\n\nHer sweet ringing voice sounded like a silver trumpet through the\nroom, and the lords and ladies pressed nearer to hear and see.\n\n\"In sooth, the Maid herself--the Maid who comes to save France!\"\n\nSuch was the whisper which went round; and I marvelled not; for the\nlook upon that face, the glorious shining in those eyes, was enough\nto convince the most sceptical that the beatific vision had indeed\nbeen vouchsafed to them.\n\nThe Duke fell back on his pillows, regarding her attentively.\n\n\"If then, Maiden, you can thus read the future, tell me, shall I\nrecover me of this sickness?\" he gasped.\n\n\"Of that, sire, I have no knowledge,\" she answered. \"That lies with\nGod alone; but if you would be His servant, flee from the wrath to\ncome, which your sins have drawn upon you. Turn to the Lord in\npenitence. Do His will. Be reconciled to your wife; for such is the\ncommandment of God. Perchance then you will find healing for body\nand soul. But seek not that which is hidden. Do only the will of\nthe Lord, and trust all to Him.\"\n\nShe was hustled from the room by the frightened attendants, who\nfeared for her very life at the hands of their irate lord. He had\ndone many a man to death for less than such counsel. But the Maid\nfelt not fear.\n\n\"He cannot touch me,\" she said, \"I have my Lord's work yet to\naccomplish.\"\n\nAnd in truth the Duke wished her no ill, though he asked not to see\nher more. Perhaps--who knows--these words may have aroused in him\nsome gleams of penitence for his past life. I have heard he made a\nbetter end than was expected of him when his time came. And before\nthe Maid left the Castle he sent her a present of money, and said\nhe might even send his son to help the Dauphin, if once Orleans\nwere relieved, and her words began to fulfil themselves.\n\nSo then we journeyed home again, and we reached Vaucouleurs on the\nafternoon of the twelfth day of February. The Maid had been smiling\nand happy up till that time, and, since the weather was improving,\nwe had great hopes of soon starting forth upon the journey for\nChinon. Nevertheless, the streams were still much swollen, and in\nsome places the ground was so soft that it quaked beneath our\nhorses' feet. We travelled without misadventure, however, and I\nwondered what it was that brought the cloud to the brow of the Maid\nas we drew nearer and nearer to Vaucouleurs.\n\nBut I was to know ere long; for as we rode into the courtyard of\nthe Castle the Maid slipped from her horse ere any could help her,\nand went straight into the room where the Governor was sitting,\nwith her fearless air of mastery.\n\n\"My lord of Baudricourt, you do great ill to your master the\nDauphin in thus keeping me from him in the time of his great need.\nToday a battle has been fought hard by the city of Orleans, and the\narms of the French have suffered disaster and disgrace. If this go\non, the hearts of the soldiers will be as water, the purpose of the\nLord will be hindered, and you, Seigneur, will be the cause, in\nthat you have not hearkened unto me, nor believed that I am sent of\nHim.\"\n\n\"How know you the thing of which you speak, girl?\" asked De\nBaudricourt, startled at the firmness of her speech.\n\n\"My voices have told me,\" she answered; \"voices that cannot lie.\nThe French have met with disaster. The English have triumphed, and\nI still waste my time in idleness here! How long is this to\ncontinue, Robert de Baudricourt?\"\n\nA new note had come into her voice--the note of the general who\ncommands. We heard it often enough later; but this was the first\ntime I had noted it. How would De Baudricourt take it?\n\n\"Girl,\" he said, \"I will send forth a courier at once to ride with\nall speed to the westward. If this thing be so, he will quickly\nmeet some messenger with the news. If it be as you have said, if\nthis battle has been fought and lost, then will I send you forth\nwithout a day's delay to join the King at Chinon.\"\n\n\"So be it,\" answered the Maid; and turned herself to the chapel,\nwhere she spent the night in prayer.\n\nIt was Bertrand who rode forth in search of tidings, his heart\nburning within him. It was he who nine days later entered\nVaucouleurs again, weary and jaded, but with a great triumph light\nin his eyes. He stood before De Baudricourt and spoke.\n\n\"It is even as the Maid hath said. Upon the very day when we\nreturned to Vaucouleurs, the English--a small handful of\nmen--overthrew at Rouvray a large squadron of the French, utterly\nrouting and well-nigh destroying them. The English were but a small\nparty, convoying herrings to the besiegers of Orleans. The ground\nwas strewn with herrings after the fight, which men call the Battle\nof the Herrings. Consternation reigns in the hearts of the\nFrench--an army flies before a handful! The Maid spake truly; the\nneed is desperate. If help reach not the Dauphin soon, all will be\nlost!\"\n\n\"Then let the Maid go!\" thundered the old man, roused at last like\nan angry lion; \"and may the God she trusts in guard and keep her,\nand give to her the victory!\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V. HOW THE MAID JOURNEYED TO CHINON.\n\n\nSo the thing had come to pass at last--as she had always said it\nmust. Robert de Baudricourt was about to send her to the Court of\nthe Dauphin at Chinon. The weary days of waiting were at an end.\nShe was to start forthwith; she and her escort were alike ready,\nwilling, and eager. Her strange mystic faith and lofty courage\nseemed to have spread through the ranks of the chosen few who were\nto attend her.\n\nI trow, had she asked it, half the men of Vaucouleurs would have\ngladly followed in her train; for the whole town was moved to its\ncore by the presence of the Maid in its midst. Almost were the\ntownsfolk ready to worship her, only that there was something in\nher own simplicity and earnest piety which forbade such\ndemonstration. All knew that the Maid herself would be first to\nrebuke any person offering to her homage other than true man can\nand ought to offer to true woman.\n\nAnd now let me speak here, once and for all, of the love and\nreverence and devotion which the Maid had power to kindle in the\nhearts of those with whom she came in contact. I can indeed speak\nof this, for I am proud to this day to call myself her true knight.\nFrom the first I felt towards her as I have felt to none since--not\neven to the wife of my manhood's tried affections. It was such a\nlove as may be inspired by some almost angelic, presence--there was\nno passion in it. I believe I speak truly when I say that not one\nof the Maid's true followers and knights and comrades-in-arms, ever\nthought of her as possible wife--ever even dreamed of her as lover.\nShe moved amongst us as a being from another sphere. She inspired\nus with a courage, a power, and a confidence in her and in our\ncause, which nothing could shake or daunt. She was like a star, set\nin the firmament of heaven. Our eyes, our hearts turned towards\nher, but she was never as one of us.\n\nStill less was she as other women are, fashioned for soft\nflatteries, ready to be wooed and won. Ah, no! With the Maid it was\nfar otherwise. Truly do I think that of herself she had no thought,\nsave as she was the instrument appointed of her Lord to do the\nappointed work. To that task her whole soul was bent. It filled her\nto the full with an ecstasy of devotion which required no words in\nwhich to express itself. And I can faithfully say that it was not\nthe beauty of her face, the sweetness of her ringing voice, nor the\ngrace and strength of her supple form which made of men her willing\nfollowers and servants.\n\nNo, it was a power stronger and more sacred than any such carnal\nadmiration. It came from the conviction, which none could fail to\nreach, that this Maid was indeed chosen and set apart of Heaven for\na great and mighty work, and that in obeying her, one was obeying\nthe will of God, and working out some purpose determined in the\ncounsels of the heavenlies.\n\nWith her man's garb and light armour, the Maid had assumed an air\nof unconscious command which sat with curious graceful dignity upon\nthe serene calm of her ordinary demeanour. Towards her followers of\nthe humbler sort she ever showed herself full of consideration and\nkindliness. She felt for their fatigues or privations in marching,\nwas tenderly solicitous later on for the wounded. Above all, she\nwas insistent that the dying should receive the consolations of\nreligion, and it was a terrible thought to her that either friend\nor foe should perish unshriven and unassoiled.\n\nHer last act at Vaucouleurs, ere we started off in the early dawn\nof a late February day, was to attend Mass with all her following.\n\nAn hour later, after a hasty meal provided by De Baudricourt, we\nwere all in the saddle, equipped and eager for the start. The Maid\nsat her chestnut charger as to the manner born. The pawings of the\nimpatient animal caused her no anxiety. She was looking with a keen\neye over her little band of followers, taking in, as a practised\nleader of men might do, their equipment and general readiness for\nthe road. She pointed out to me several small defects which\nrequired adjusting and rectifying.\n\nAlready she seemed to have assumed without effort, and as a matter\nof course, the position of leader and general. There was no\nabatement of her gentle sweetness of voice or aspect, but the air\nof command combined with it as though it came direct and without\neffort as a gift from heaven. None resented it; all submitted to\nit, and submitted with a sense of lofty joy and satisfaction which\nI have never experienced since, and which is beyond my power to\ndescribe.\n\nThere was one change in the outward aspect of the Maid, for her\nbeautiful hair had been cut off, and now her head was crowned only\nby its cluster of short curling locks, upon which today she wore a\ncloth cap, though soon she was to adopt the headpiece which\nbelonged to the light armour provided. She had been pleased by the\ndress of white and blue cut-cloth which I had humbly offered her,\nand right well did it become her. The other suit provided by the\ntownsfolk was carried by one of the squires, that she might have\nchange of garment if (as was but too probable) we should encounter\ndrenching rains or blustering snow storms.\n\nSo far she had no sword of her own, nor had she spoken of the need\nof such a weapon for herself. But as we assembled in the courtyard\nof the Castle, getting ourselves into the order of the march, De\nBaudricourt himself appeared upon the steps leading into the\nbuilding, bearing in his hands a sword in a velvet scabbard, which\nhe gravely presented to the Maid.\n\n\"A soldier, lady, has need of a weapon,\" were his words, as he\nplaced it in her hands; \"take this sword, then. I trow it will do\nyou faithful service; and may the Lord in whom you trust lead you\nto victory, and save this distracted realm of France from the\nperils which threaten to overwhelm her!\"\n\n\"I thank you, Seigneur de Baudricourt,\" she answered, as she took\nthe weapon, and permitted me to sling it for her in the belt for\nthe purpose which she already wore, \"I will keep your gift, and\nremember your good words, and how that you have been chosen of\nheaven to send me forth thus, and have done the bidding of the\nLord, as I knew that so true a man must needs do at the appointed\ntime. For the rest, have no fear. The Lord will accomplish that\nwhich He has promised. Before the season now beginning so tardily\nhas reached its height, the Dauphin will be the anointed King of\nFrance, the English will have suffered defeat and Orleans will be\nfree!\"\n\n\"Heaven send you speak sooth, fair Maid,\" answered the rugged old\nsoldier, as he eyed the slim figure before him with something of\nmingled doubt, wonder, and reverence in his eyes.\n\nThen as though some strange impulse possessed him, he took her hand\nand kissed it, and bending the knee before her, said:\n\n\"Give me, I pray you, a blessing, ere you depart!\"\n\nA wonderful light sprang into her eyes. She laid her hand upon the\ngrizzled head, and lifted her own face, as was her wont, to the\nsunny sky.\n\n\"The blessing of the King of Heaven be upon you, Robert de\nBaudricourt, in that you have been an instrument chosen of Him. The\ngrace and love of our Blessed Lady be yours, in that you have shown\nkindness and favour to a simple maid of the people, set apart by\nHeaven for a certain task. The favour and protection of the Saints\nbe yours, in that you have believed the words of one who spake of\nthem, and have been obedient to the command sent to you from them!\"\n\nShe ceased speaking; but still continued to gaze upward with rapt\nand earnest eyes. Every head was bared, and we all gazed upon her,\nas upon one who looks through the open Gate of Heaven, and to whom\nis vouchsafed a glimpse of the Beatific Vision.\n\nThen clear and sweet her voice rose once more. Her face was\ntransfigured; a great light seemed to shine either upon or from it,\nno man could say which.\n\n\"O Lord God, Father of the Heavenlies, O sweet Jesu, Saviour of\nmankind, O Blessed Mother, Queen of Heaven, O Holy Michael,\nArchangel of the shining sword, O Blessed Saints--Catherine and\nMargaret, beloved of Heaven--give to these, Your children, Your\nblessing, Your help, Your protection, Your counsel! Be with us in\nour journeyings--in our uprising and down lying, in our going out\nand coming in--in all we put our hands unto! Be with us and uphold\nus, and bring us in safety to our journey's end; for we go forth in\nthe strength which is from above, and which can never fail us till\nthe work appointed be accomplished!\"\n\nThen we rode forth, out of the courtyard, and into the streets of\nthe town, which were thronged and lined with townsfolk, and with\npeople from the surrounding villages, who had crowded in to see the\nwonderful Maid, and witness the outgoing of the little band which\nwas to accompany her to Chinon.\n\nTwo of the Maid's brothers had sought to be of her train, and one\nwent with us upon that day. The second she sent back with a letter\n(written at her dictation by my fingers, for she herself knew not\nletters, though of so quick an understanding in other matters) to\nher parents, praying earnestly for their forgiveness for what must\nseem to them like disobedience, and imploring their blessing. And\nthis letter she dispatched by Jean, permitting Pierre to accompany\nus on the march.\n\nHer mother and two younger brothers, at least, believed in her\nmission by this time; but her father was doubtful and displeased,\nfearful for her safety, and suspicious of her credentials; and the\neldest son remained of necessity at home to help his father, and\nwhether or no he believed in his sister's call, I have never truly\nheard. But I know it pleased her that Pierre should be in her\nescort, though she was careful not to show him any marked favour\nabove others; and as in days to come she was more and more thrown\nwith the great ones of the land, she of necessity was much parted\nfrom him, though the bond of sisterly love was never slackened; and\nboth Pierre, and afterwards Jean, followed her through all the\nearlier parts of her victorious career.\n\nLeaving Vaucouleurs, we had need to march with circumspection, for\nthe country was in no settled state, and it was probable that\nrumours of our march might have got abroad, and that roving bands\nof English or Burgundian soldiers might be on the look out for us;\nfor already it was being noised abroad that a miraculous Maid had\nappeared to the aid of France, and though, no doubt, men jeered,\nand professed incredulity, still it was likely that she would be\nregarded in the light of a valuable prize if she could be carried\noff, and taken either to Duke Philip or to the Regent Bedford in\nParis.\n\nWe had with us a King's archer from Chinon, who had been sent with\nnews of the disaster at Rouvray. He was to conduct us back to\nChinon by the best and safest routes. But he told us that the\ncountry was beset by roving bands of hostile soldiers, that his\ncomrades had been slain, and that he himself only escaped as by a\nmiracle; and his advice was urgent that after the first day we\nshould travel by night, and lie in hiding during the hours of\ndaylight--a piece of advice which we were fain to follow, being no\nstrong force, able to fight our way through a disturbed country,\nand being very solicitous for the safety of the precious Maid who\nwas at once our chiefest hope and chiefest care.\n\nThis, then, we did, after that first day's travel in the bright\nspringtide sunshine. We were attended for many a mile by a\nfollowing of mounted men from the district round, and when, as the\nsun began to wester in the sky, they took their leave of us, the\nMaid thanked them with gracious words for their company and good\nwishes, though she would not suffer them to kiss her hand or pay\nher homage; and after that they had departed, we did halt for many\nhours, eating and resting ourselves; for we meant to march again\nwhen the moon was up, and not lose a single night, so eager was the\nMaid to press on towards Chinon.\n\nOf our journey I will not speak too particularly. Ofttimes we were\nin peril from the close proximity of armed bands, as we lay in\nwoods and thickets by day, avoiding towns and villages, lest we\nshould draw too much notice upon ourselves. Ofttimes we suffered\nfrom cold, from hunger, from drenching rains and bitter winds. Once\nour way was barred by snow drifts, and often the swollen rivers and\nstreams forced us to wander for miles seeking a ford that was\npracticable.\n\nBut whatever were the hardships encountered, no word of murmuring\never escaped the lips of the Maid; rather her courage and sweet\nserenity upheld us all, and her example of patience and\nunselfishness inspired even the roughest of the men-at-arms with a\ndesire to emulate it. Never, methinks, on such a toilsome march was\nso little grumbling, so little discouragement, and, above all, so\nlittle swearing. And this, in particular, was the doing of the\nMaid. For habit is strong with us all, and when things went amiss\nthe oath would rise to the lips of the men about her, and be\nuttered without a thought.\n\nBut that was a thing she could not bear. Her sweet pained face\nwould be turned upon the speaker. Her clear, ringing tones would\nask the question:\n\n\"Shall we, who go forward in the name of the Lord, dare to take His\nholy name lightly upon our lips? What are His own words? Swear not\nat all. Shall we not seek to obey Him? Are we not vowed to His\nservice? And must not the soldier be obedient above all others?\nShall we mock Him by calling ourselves His followers, and yet doing\nthat without a thought which He hath forbidden?\"\n\nNot once nor twice, but many times the Maid had to speak such words\nas these; but she never feared to speak them, and her courage and\nher purity of heart and life threw its spell over the rough men she\nhad led, and they became docile in her hands like children, ready\nto worship the very ground she trod on.\n\nLong afterwards it was told me by one of mine own men-at-arms that\nthere had been a regular plot amongst the rougher of the soldiers\nat the outset to do her a mischief, and to sell her into the hands\nof the Burgundians or the English. But even before leaving\nVaucouleurs the men had wavered, half ashamed of their own doubts\nand thoughts, and before we had proceeded two days' journey\nforward, all, to a man, would have laid down their lives in her\nservice.\n\nThe only matter that troubled the Maid was that we were unable to\nhear Mass, as she longed to do daily. The risk of showing ourselves\nin town or village was too great. But there came a night, when, as\nwe journeyed, we approached the town of Fierbois, a place very well\nknown to me; and when we halted in a wood with the first light of\nday, and the wearied soldiers made themselves beds amid the dried\nfern and fallen leaves, I approached the Maid, who was gazing\nwistfully towards the tapering spire of a church, visible at some\ndistance away, and I said to her:\n\n\"Gentle Maid, yonder is the church of Sainte Catherine at Fierbois,\nand there will be, without doubt, early Mass celebrated within its\nwalls. If you will trust yourself with Bertrand and myself, I trow\nwe could safely convey you thither, and bring you back again, ere\nthe day be so far advanced that the world will be astir to wonder\nat us.\"\n\nHer face brightened as though a sunbeam had touched it. She needed\nnot to reply in words. A few minutes later, and we were walking\ntogether through the wood, and had quickly reached the church,\nwhere the chiming of the bell told us that we should not be\ndisappointed of our hope.\n\nWe knelt at the back of the church, and there were few worshippers\nthere that morning. I could not but watch the face of the Maid, and\nsuddenly I felt a curious thrill run through me, as though I had\nbeen touched by an unseen hand. I looked at her, and upon her face\nhad come a look which told me that she was listening to some voice\nunheard by me. She clasped her hands, her eyes travelled toward the\naltar, and remained fixed upon it, as though she saw a vision. Her\nlips moved, and I thought I heard the murmured words:\n\n\"Blessed Sainte Catherine, I hear. I will remember. When the time\ncomes I shall know what to do.\"\n\nWhen the priest had finished his office we slipped out before any\none else moved, and reached the shelter of the woods again without\nencountering any other person. I almost hoped that the Maid would\nspeak to us of what had been revealed to her in that church, but\nshe kept the matter in her own heart. Yet, methinks, she pondered\nit long and earnestly; for although she laid her down as if to\nsleep, her eyes were generally wide open, looking upwards through\nthe leafless budding boughs of the trees as though they beheld\nthings not of this earth.\n\nIt was upon this day that I wrote, at the Maid's request, a letter\nto the uncrowned King at Chinon, asking of him an audience on\nbehalf of Jeanne d'Arc, the maiden from Domremy, of whom he had\nprobably heard. This letter I dispatched to Sir Guy de Laval,\nasking him to deliver it to the King with his own hands, and to\nbring us an answer ere we reached Chinon, which we hoped now to do\nin a short while.\n\nThe missive was carried by the King's archer, who knew his road\nright well, and was acquainted with the person of Sir Guy. He was\nto ride forward in all haste, whilst we were to follow in slower\nand more cautious fashion.\n\nI think it was about the fifth day of March when the great towers\nof Chinon first broke upon our gaze. We had been travelling all the\nnight, and it was just as the dawn was breaking that we espied the\nhuge round turrets rising, as it were, from amid the mists which\nclung about the river and its banks. There we halted, for no\nmessage had yet come from the King; but upon the Maid's face was a\nlook of awe and radiant joy as she stood a little apart, gazing\nupon the goal of her toilsome journey. No fear beset her as to her\nreception, just as no fears had troubled her with regard to perils\nby the way.\n\n\"God clears the road for me,\" she said, when news had been brought\nfrom time to time of bands of soldiers whom we had narrowly\nescaped; and now, as she looked upon the towers of Chinon, growing\nmore and more distinct as the daylight strengthened, her face wore\na smile of serene confidence in which natural fear and shrinking\nhad no part.\n\n\"The Dauphin will receive me. Fear nothing. The work which is begun\nwill go forward to its completion. God hath spoken in His power. He\nhath spoken, and His word cannot fail.\"\n\nSo after we had fed she lay down, wrapped in a cloak, and fell\nasleep like a child; whilst I rode forward a little way along the\nplain, for I had seen a handful of horsemen sallying forth, as it\nseemed from the Castle, and I hoped that it was Sir Guy bearing\nletter or message from the King.\n\nNor was I mistaken in this hope. Soon I was certain of my man, and\nSir Guy in turn recognising me, spurred forward in advance of his\nfollowers, and we met alone in the plain, Bertrand, my companion,\nbeing with me.\n\n\"So there really is to be a miracle worked, and by a Maid!\" cried\nSir Guy, as we rode with him towards our camp; \"Mort de Dieu--but\nit is passing strange! All the Court is in a fever of wonder about\nthis Angelic Maid, as some call her; whilst others vow she is\neither impostor or witch. Is it the same, Bertrand, of whom you did\nspeak upon the day we parted company?\"\n\n\"The same; and yet in one way not the same, for since then she hath\ngrown apace in power and wonder, so that all who see her marvel at\nher, and some be ready to worship her. But we will say no more. You\nshall see for yourself, and the King also shall see, if he refuse\nnot to receive one who comes to him as the messenger of God.\"\n\n\"I am sent to conduct the Maid presently to the Castle,\" answered\nSir Guy. \"There is now great desire to see her and hear her, and to\ntry and test the truth of her mission. The Generals scoff aloud at\nthe thought of going to battle with a maid for leader. The\nChurchmen look grave, and talk of witchcraft and delusion. The\nladies of the Court are in a fever to see her. As for the King and\nhis Ministers, they are divided in mind 'twixt hope and fear; but\ntruly matters are come to such desperate pass with us that, if some\nhelp come not quickly, the King will flee him away from his\ndistracted realm, and leave the English and Burgundians to ravage\nand subdue at will!\"\n\n\"God forbid!\" said I, and crossed myself.\n\nScarce had I spoken the words before I saw approaching us on her\nchestnut charger the Maid herself, who rode forward to meet us at a\nfoot's pace, and reined back a few yards from us, her eyes fixed\nfull upon the face of Sir Guy, who uncovered, I scarce know why,\nfor how should he know that this youthful soldier was indeed the\nMaid herself?\n\n\"You come from the Dauphin,\" she said; \"go tell him that the\ndarkest hour but heralds the dawn. He must not flee away. He must\nstay to face his foes. I will lead his armies to victory, and he\nshall yet be crowned King of France. Let him never speak more of\ndeserting his realm. That shall not--that must not be!\"\n\nSir Guy was off his horse by now; he bent his knee to the Maid.\n\n\"I will tell the King that the Deliverer hath truly come,\" he said;\nand taking her hand, ere she could prevent it, he reverently kissed\nit.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI. HOW THE MAID CAME TO THE KING.\n\n\nSo Guy de Laval had fallen beneath the spell of the Maid, even as\nwe had done. He spoke of it to me afterwards. It was not because of\nher words, albeit she had plainly shown knowledge of that which he\nhad been saying before her approach. It was not the beauty of her\nserene face, or the dignity of her mien. It was as though some\npower outside of himself urged him to some act of submission. An\novershadowing presence seemed to rest upon him as with the touch of\na hand, and he who had laughed at the idea of the restoration of\nmiracles suddenly felt all his doubts and misgivings fall away.\n\nWe rode together back to our camp, and there we talked long and\nearnestly of many things. The Maid had much to ask of Sir Guy, but\nher questions were not such as one would have guessed. She never\ninquired how the Dauphin (as she always called him) had first heard\nof her, how he regarded her, what his Ministers and the Court\nthought of her mission, whether they would receive her in good\npart, what treatment she might expect when she should appear at\nChinon.\n\nNo; such thoughts as these seemed never to enter her head. She was\nin no wise troubled as to the things which appertained to herself.\nNot once did a natural curiosity on this ground suggest such\ninquiries; and though we, her followers, would fain have asked many\nof these questions, something in her own absence of interest, her\nown earnestness as to other matters, restrained us from putting\nthem.\n\nIt was of the city of Orleans she desired to know. What was the\ncondition of the garrison? What were the armies of England doing?\nWhat was the disposition of the beleaguering force? Was any project\nof relief on foot amongst the Dauphin's soldiers? Did they\nunderstand how much depended upon the rescue of the devoted town?\n\nGuy de Laval was able to answer these questions, for he had himself\nridden from Chinon to Orleans with messages to the Generals in the\nbeleaguered city. He reported that the blockade was not perfected;\nthat provisions could still find their way--though with risk, and\ndanger of loss--into the town, and that messengers with letters\ncould pass to and fro by exercising great caution, and by the grace\nof Heaven. He told her of the great fortresses the English had\nbuilt, where they dwelt in safety, and menaced the town and\nbattered its walls with their engines of war.\n\nThe garrison and the city were yet holding bravely out, and the\nGenerals Dunois and La Hire were men of courage and capacity. But\nwhen the Maid asked how it came about that the English--who could\nnot be so numerous as the French forces in the town--had been\nsuffered to make these great works unmolested, he could only reply\nwith a shake of the head, and with words of evil omen.\n\n\"It is the terror of the English which has fallen upon them. Since\nthe victory of Agincourt, none have ever been able to see English\nsoldiers drawn up in battle array without feeling their blood turn\nto water, and their knees quake under them. I know not what the\npower is; but at Rouvray it was shown forth again. A small force of\nsoldiers--but a convoy with provisions for the English lines--overcame\nand chased to destruction a French army ten times its own strength.\nIt is as though the English had woven some spell about us. We cannot\nface them--to our shame be it spoken! The glorious days of old are\npast. If Heaven come not to our aid, the cause of France is lost!\"\n\n\"Heaven has come to the aid of France,\" spoke the Maid, with that\ncalm certainty which never deserted her; \"have no fear, gentle\nknight. Let the Dauphin but send me to Orleans, and the English\nwill speedily be chased away.\"\n\n\"It will need a great army to achieve that, fair Maid,\" spoke Sir\nGuy; \"and alas, the King has but a small force at his disposal, and\nthe men are faint hearted and fearful.\"\n\n\"It is no matter,\" answered the Maid, with shining eyes; \"is it\nanything to my Lord whether He overcomes by many or by few? Is His\narm shortened at all, that He should not fulfil that which He has\npromised? France shall see ere long that the Lord of Hosts fights\nfor her. Will not that be enough?\"\n\n\"I trow it will,\" answered De Laval, baring his head.\n\nIt was not until the evening was drawing on that we entered the\nfortress of Chinon, where the King held his Court. A very splendid\ncastle it was, and when, later in my life, I once visited the realm\nof England, and looked upon the Castle of Windsor there, it did\nbring back greatly to my mind that Castle of Chinon, with its\ntowers and battlements overhanging, as it were, the river, and the\ntown clustered at its foot.\n\nWe had delayed our approach that our wearied and way-worn men might\nrest and give a little care to their clothes and arms, so that we\npresented not too travel-stained and forlorn an appearance. We\ndesired to do honour to the Maid we escorted, and to assume an air\nof martial pomp, so far as it was possible to us.\n\nSir Guy had ridden on in front to announce our coming. He told me\nthat the King was full of curiosity about the Maid, and that the\nladies of the Court were consumed with wonder and amaze; but that\nthe Prime Minister, De la Tremouille, was strenuously set against\nhaving aught to do with that \"dreamer of dreams,\" as he slightingly\ncalled her, whilst the King's confessor was much of the same mind,\nin spite of what was reported about her from the priests who had\nseen and examined her.\n\nThere was no mistaking the sensation which our approach occasioned\nwhen at last we reached the walls of the Castle. Soldiers and\ntownspeople, gentlemen and servants, were assembled at every coign\nof vantage to watch us ride in; and every eye was fixed upon the\nMaid, who rode as one in a dream, her face slightly raised, her\neyes shining with the great joy of an object at last achieved, and\nwho seemed unconscious of the scrutiny to which she was subjected,\nand unaware of the excitement which her presence occasioned.\n\nFor the most part deep silence reigned as we passed by. No\nacclamation of welcome greeted us, nor did any murmurs of distrust\nsmite upon our ears. There was whispering and a rustling of\ngarments, and the clank of arms; but no articulate words, either\nfriendly or hostile, till, as we passed the drawbridge, one of the\nsentries, a great, brawny fellow, half French half Scottish,\nuttered an insult to the Maid, accompanying his words by a horrible\nblasphemy.\n\nMy hand was upon my sword hilt. I could have slain the man where he\nstood; but I felt the Maid's touch on my shoulder, and my hand sank\nto my side. She paused before the sentry, gazing at him with\nearnest eyes, full of mournful reproach and sorrow.\n\n\"O Lord Jesu, forgive him!\" she breathed softly, and as the fellow,\nhalf ashamed, but truculent still, and defiant, turned upon her as\nthough he would have repeated either his insult or his blasphemy,\nshe held up her hand and spoke aloud, so that all who stood by\nmight hear her words:\n\n\"O, my friend, speak not so rashly, but seek to make your peace\nwith God. Know you not how near you stand to death this night? May\nGod pardon and receive your soul!\"\n\nThe man shrank back as one affrighted. It was scarce two hours\nlater that as he was crossing a narrow bridge-like parapet, leading\nfrom one part of the Castle to another, he fell into the swollen\nand rapid stream beneath, and was heard of no more. Some called it\nwitchcraft, and said that the Maid had overlooked him; but the more\npart regarded it as a sign that she could read the future, and that\nthings unknown to others were open to her eyes; and this, indeed,\nnone could doubt who were with her at this time, as I shall\npresently show.\n\nI had expected that Sir Guy would come to lead us into the chamber\nof audience, where we were told the King would receive us. But he\ndid not come, and we were handed on from corridor to corridor, from\nroom to room, first by one richly-apparelled servant of the Court,\nthen by another.\n\nOur men-at-arms, of course, had been detained in one of the\ncourtyards, where their lodgings were provided. Only Bertrand and I\nwere suffered, by virtue of our knighthood, to accompany the Maid\ninto the presence of royalty; and neither of us had ever seen the\nKing, or knew what his outward man was like.\n\nBut she asked no questions of us as to that, nor how she was to\ncomport herself when she reached the audience chamber. Neither had\nshe desired to change her travel-stained suit for any other,\nthough, in truth, there was little to choose betwixt them now; only\nmethinks most in her case would have provided some sort of gay\nraiment wherewith to appear before the King. But the Maid thought\nnought of herself, but all of her mission, and she held that this\nwas a matter which could be touched by no outward adorning or\nbravery of apparel.\n\nNone who passed through the galleries and corridors of the Castle\nof Chinon in these days would have guessed to what a desperate pass\nthe young King's affairs had come. Music and laughter resounded\nthere. Courtiers fluttered about in gorgeous array, and fine ladies\nlike painted butterflies bore them company. Feasting and revelry\nswallowed up the days and nights. No clang of arms disturbed the\ngaieties of the careless young monarch.\n\nIf despair and desperation were in his heart, he pushed them back\nwith a strong hand. He desired only to live in the present. He\nwould not look beyond. So long as he could keep his Court about\nhim, he would live after this fashion; and when the English had\nswept away the last barriers, and were at the very gates, then he\nwould decide whether to surrender himself upon terms, or to fly to\nsome foreign land. But to face the foe in gallant fight was an\nalternative which had never been entertained by him, until such\ntime as he had received the message from the Maid; and then it was\nrather with wonder and curiosity than any belief in her mission\nthat he had consented to receive her.\n\nA pair of great double doors was flung open before us. We stood\nupon the threshold of a vast room, lighted by some fifty torches,\nand by the blaze of a gigantic fire which roared halfway up the\nvast chimney. This great audience chamber seemed full of dazzling\njewels and gorgeous raiment. One could scarce see the faces and\nfigures in the shifting throng for the wonder of this blaze of\ncolour.\n\nBut there was no dais on which the King was seated in state, as I\nhad expected. No figure stood out conspicuous in the throng as that\nof royalty. I gazed at one and another, as we stood in the doorway,\nour eyes still half dazzled by the glare of light and by the\nbrilliance of the assembled company, but I could by no means\ndistinguish the King from any of the rest. Many men, by their\ngorgeous raiment, might well be the greatest one present; but how\nto tell?\n\nAll were quiet now. They had fallen a little back, as though to\ngaze upon the newcomer. Smiling faces were turned upon us. Eager\neyes were fastened upon the Maid's face. She stood there, with the\nglare of the torches shining over her, looking upon the scene with\nher calm, direct gaze, without tremor of fear or thought of shame.\n\nOne of the great Seigneurs--I know not which--came forward with a\nsmile and a bow, and gave her his hand to lead her forward.\n\n\"I will present you to the King,\" he said; and made in a certain\ndirection, as though he would lead her to a very kingly-looking\npersonage in white and crimson velvet, blazing with diamonds; but\nere he had taken many steps, the Maid drew her hand from his, and\nturning herself in a different direction, went forward without the\nleast wavering, and knelt down before a young man in whose attire\nthere was nothing in any way gorgeous or notable.\n\n\"Gentle Dauphin,\" she said, in that clear voice of hers which\nalways made itself heard above other sounds, though at this moment\na great hush prevailed throughout the audience chamber, and\nwondering eyes were fixed full upon the Maid, \"God give you good\nlife, and victory over your enemies!\"\n\nAstonishment was in the young man's face; but he took the Maid by\nthe hand, and said:\n\n\"You mistake, fair damsel; it is not I that am the King. See, he is\nthere; let me take you to him.\"\n\nBut she would not be raised; she knelt still at his feet, and the\nhand which he had given her she held to her lips.\n\n\"Gentle Dauphin, think not to deceive me. I know you, who you are.\nYou are he to whom I am sent, to win you the victory first, and\nthen to place the crown of France upon your head. It is you, and\nnone other, who shall rule in France!\"\n\nThe young man's face had changed greatly now. A deep agitation\nreplaced the former smile of mockery and amusement. Several of the\ncourtiers were exchanging meaning glances; in the hush of the hall\nevery spoken word could be heard.\n\n\"Child, how dost thou know me?\" asked the King, and his voice shook\nwith emotion.\n\nHer answer was not strange to us, though it might have been so to\nothers.\n\n\"I am Jeanne the Maid,\" she replied, as if in so saying she was\nsaying enough to explain all; \"I am sent to you by the King of\nHeaven; and it is His Word that I have spoken. You shall be crowned\nand consecrated at Rheims, and shall be lieutenant of the King of\nHeaven, Who is King of France, but Who wills that you shall reign\nover that fair realm!\"\n\n\"Have you a message from Him to me?\" asked the King, speaking like\na man in a dream.\n\n\"Ay, verily I have,\" answered the Maid, \"a message which none but\nyou must hear; for it is to you alone that I may tell it.\"\n\nThen the King took her by the hand, and raised her up, gazing at\nher with a great wonder and curiosity; and he led her behind a\ncurtain into a deep recess of the window, where prying eyes could\nnot see them, nor inquisitive ears overhear her words.\n\nAnd so soon as they had disappeared there, a great hum and buzz of\nwonder ran throughout the hall, and we saw Sir Guy detach himself\nfrom a knot of gay courtiers, and come hastily towards us.\n\n\"Is it not wonderful!\" he cried. \"And I had feared that she would\nbe deceived, and that the mockers would have the laugh against her\nin the first moment. Though how they looked for her to have\nknowledge of the King's person I know not. Surely none can doubt\nbut that she is taught by the Spirit of God.\"\n\n\"It was done to prove her!\"\n\n\"Ay, it was the thought of De la Tremouille, who has ridiculed her\npretensions (the word is his) from first to last. But it was a\nthought welcomed by all, as a passing merry jest. Thus was it that\nI was not permitted to come and lead you in. They did fear lest I\nshould tell what was intended, and describe to the Maid the person\nor the dress of the King. And now none can doubt; and, in sooth, it\nmay be a wondrous thing for His Majesty himself, and take from him\nfor ever that hateful fear which I always do declare has helped to\nparalyse him, and hold him back from action.\"\n\nI lowered my voice to a whisper as I said:\n\n\"You mean the fear lest he was not the true son of the King?\"\n\n\"Yes; his wicked mother hinted away her own honour in her desire to\nrob him of his crown. He has known her for an evil woman. Was it\nnot likely he would fear she might speak truth? Those who know him\nbest know that he has often doubted his right to style himself\nDauphin or King; but methinks after today that doubt must needs be\nset at rest. If the Maid who comes from the King of Heaven puts\nthat name upon him, need he fear to take it for his own?\"\n\nAs we were thus speaking the Sieur de Boisi joined us. He was\nperchance more fully in the King's confidence than any other person\nat Court, and he was kinsman to De Laval, with whom he had plainly\nalready had much talk upon this subject. He drew us aside, and\nwhispered a story in our ears.\n\n\"His Majesty did tell it me himself,\" he said, \"for there be nights\nwhen he cannot sleep, and he calls me from my couch at his bed's\nfoot, and makes me lie beside him, that we may talk at ease; and he\ntold me, not long since, how that this trouble and doubt were so\ngrowing upon him, that once he had fasted for a whole day, and had\npassed the night upon his knees in the oratory, praying for a sign\nwhereby he might truly know whether he were the real heir, and the\nkingdom justly his. For that were it not so, he would sooner escape\nto Spain or Scotland to pass his days in peace; but that if the\nLord would send him a sign, then he would seek to do his duty by\nthe realm.\"\n\nWith awe we looked into each other's faces.\n\n\"The sign has come!\" whispered Bertrand.\n\n\"Truly I do think it,\" answered De Boisi.\n\n\"Surely His Majesty will recognise it as such!\" said Sir Guy.\n\n\"I see not how it can be otherwise; and it will be like a great\nload lifted from his heart.\"\n\n\"And he will surely hesitate no more,\" I said, \"but will forthwith\ngive her a band of armed men, that she may sally forth to the aid\nof the beleaguered Orleans!\"\n\nBut De Boisi and De Laval looked doubtful.\n\n\"I know not how that will be. For there are many who will even now\nseek to dissuade the King, and will talk of witchcraft, and I know\nnot what beside. The Abbes and the Bishops and the priests are\nalike distrustful and hostile. The Generals of the army openly\nscoff and jeer. Some say that if the Maid be sent to Orleans, both\nLa Hire and Dunois will forthwith retire, and refuse all further\noffice there. What can a peasant maid know of the art of war? they\nask, and how can she command troops and lead them on to victory,\nwhere veterans have failed again and again? And then the King knows\nnot what to reply--\"\n\n\"But she hath given him wherewith to reply!\" broke out Bertrand,\nwith indignation in his tones. \"She comes not in her own strength,\nbut as the envoy of the King of Heaven. Is that not enough?\"\n\n\"Enough for us who have seen and heard her,\" answered Sir Guy; \"but\nwill it prove enough for those who only hear of her from others,\nand who call her a witch, and say that she works by evil spells,\nand has been sent of the Devil for our deception and destruction\nand undoing?\"\n\n\"Then let them send for one of the Generals from Orleans, and let\nhim judge for himself!\" cried Bertrand hotly; \"you say the city is\nnot so closely blockaded but that with care and caution men may get\nin or out? Then let some one send and fetch one of these\ncommanders; and if he be not convinced when he sees her, then he\nwill be of very different stuff from all else who have doubted, but\nwhose doubts have been dispelled.\"\n\n\"In faith, that is no bad thought,\" spoke De Boisi thoughtfully,\n\"and I trow it might be possible of accomplishment. I will\ncertainly speak with the King of it. He is young; he is not firm of\npurpose; his own heart has never before been set upon his kingdom.\nOne cannot expect a man's nature to change in a day, even though\nhis eyes may have been opened, and his misgivings set at rest. If\none of the Generals were won to her side, the troubles that beset\nus would be well-nigh overcome.\"\n\nA great clamour of sound from the larger audience chamber, from\nwhich we had retired to talk at ease, warned us now that the King\nand the Maid had appeared from their private conference. His face\nwas very grave, and there was more of earnestness and nobility in\nhis expression than I had thought that countenance capable of\nexpressing. The Maid was pale, as though with deep emotion; but a\nglorious light shone in her eyes, and when the Court ladies and\ngallants crowded round her, asking her questions, and gazing upon\nher as though she were a being from another sphere, she seemed\nlifted up above them into another region, and though she answered\nthem without fear, she put aside, in some wonderful way, all those\nquestions which were intrusions into holy things, speaking so\nfearlessly and so simply that all were amazed at her.\n\nShe came to us at last, weary, yet glad at heart; and her first\nquestion was for her followers, and whether they had been lodged\nand fed. We supped with her at her request, and in private, and her\nface was very calm and glad, though she spoke nothing of what had\npassed between her and the King.\n\nOnly when Bertrand said:\n\n\"You have done a great work today,\" did she look at him with a\nsmile as she replied:\n\n\"My work hath but just begun, and may yet be hindered; but have no\nfear. The Lord has spoken, and He will bring it to pass. He will\nnot fail us till all be accomplished.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII. HOW THE MAID WAS HINDERED; YET MADE PREPARATION.\n\n\nI have no patience to write of the things which followed. I blush\nfor the King, for his Council, yea, even for the Church itself!\nHere was a messenger sent from God, sent to France in the hour of\nher direst need. This messenger had been tried and tested by a\nscore of different methods already, and had in every case come\nforth from the trial like gold submitted to the fire. Priests had\nexamined and found nothing evil in her. Again and again had she\nspoken of that which must follow--and so it had been. If her voices\nwere not from God, then must they be from the devil; yet it had\nbeen proved again, and yet again, that this was impossible, since\nshe feared nought that was holy or good, but clave unto such, and\nwas never so joyful and glad at heart as when she was able to\nreceive the Holy Sacrament, or kneel before the Altar of God whilst\nMass was being said.\n\nShe had proved her claim to be called God's messenger. She had\njustified herself as such in the eyes of the King and in the\njudgment of the two Queens and of half the Court. And yet,\nforsooth, he must waver and doubt, and let himself be led by the\ncounsels of those who had ever set themselves against the Maid and\nher mission; and to the shame of the Church be it spoken, the\nArchbishop of Rheims was one of those who most zealously sought to\npersuade him of the folly of entrusting great matters to the hands\nof a simple peasant girl, and warned the whole Court of the perils\nof witchcraft and sorcery which were like to be the undoing of all\nwho meddled therein.\n\nI could have wrung the neck of the wily old fox, whom I did more\nblame than I did his friend and advocate, De la Tremouille; for the\nlatter only professed carnal wisdom and prudence, but the\nArchbishop spoke as one who has a mandate from God, and he at least\nshould have known better.\n\nAnd so they must needs send her to Poictiers, to a gathering of\necclesiastics, assembled by her enemy, the Archbishop himself, to\nexamine into her claims to be that which she professed, and also\ninto her past life, and what it had been.\n\nI scarce have patience to write of all the wearisome weeks which\nwere wasted thus, whilst this assembly sat; and the Maid--all alone\nin her innocence, her purity, her sweetness, and gentle\nreverence--stood before them, day after day, to answer subtle\nquestions, face a casuistry which sought to entrap her into\ncontradiction or confusion, or to wring from her a confession that\nshe was no heaven-sent messenger, but was led away by her own\nimaginations and ambitions.\n\nIt was an ordeal which made even her devoutest adherents tremble;\nfor we knew the astuteness of the churchmen, and how that they\nwould seek to win admissions which they would pervert to their own\nuses afterwards. Yet we need not have feared; for the Maid's\nsimplicity and perfectly fearless faith in her mission carried her\ntriumphant through all; or perhaps, indeed, her voices whispered to\nher what answers she should make, for some of them were remembered\nlong, and evoked great wonder in the hearts of those who heard\nthem.\n\nOne Dominican monk sought to perplex her by asking why, since God\nhad willed that France should be delivered through her, she had\nneed of armed men?\n\nFull fearlessly and sweetly she looked at him as she made answer:\n\n\"It is my Lord's will that I ask for soldiers, and that the Dauphin\nshall give me them. The men shall fight; it is God who gives the\nvictory.\"\n\nAnother rough questioner amongst her judges sought to confuse her\nby asking what language her voices spoke. They say that a flash\nflew from her eyes, though her sweet voice was as gentle as ever as\nshe made answer:\n\n\"A better language than yours, my father.\"\n\nAnd again, when the same man sought to know more of her faith and\nher love of God, having shown himself very sceptical of her voices\nand visions, she answered him, with grave dignity and an earnest,\nsteadfast gaze:\n\n\"I trow I have a better faith than yours, my father.\"\n\nAnd so, through all, her courage never failed, her faith never\nfaltered, her hope shone undimmed.\n\n\"They must give me that which I ask; they cannot withstand God.\nThey cannot hurt me. For this work was I born, and until it be\naccomplished I am safe. I have no fear.\"\n\nOnly once did she show anger, and then it was with a quiet dignity\nof displeasure, far removed from petulance or impatience. They\nasked of her a sign that she was what she professed to be.\n\n\"I have not come to Poictiers to give a sign,\" she answered,\nholding her head high, and looking fearlessly into the faces of\nthose who sat to judge her. \"Send me to Orleans, with as small a\nband as you will. But send me there, and you shall see signs and to\nspare that I come in the power of the King of Heaven.\"\n\nAnd so in the end her faith and courage triumphed. The verdict ran\nsomewhat thus:\n\n\"We have found in her nothing but what is good. To deny or hinder\nher intentions to serve the King would be to show ourselves\nunworthy of the assistance of God.\"\n\nYes, they had to come to it; and I trust that there were many\nsitting there whose hearts smote them for ever having doubted, or\nsought to baffle or entrap her. I cannot tell how far the judges\nwere moved by the growing feeling in the town and throughout the\ndistrict. But the people crowded to see the Maid pass by, and all\nwere ready to fall at her feet and worship her. In the evenings\nthey visited her at the house of Jean Ratabeau, the Advocate\nGeneral, whose wife formed for her (as did every good and true\nwoman with whom she came into contact during her life) an ardent\nadmiration and affection.\n\nAnd to their earnest questions she gave ready answer, sitting in\nthe midst of an eager crowd, and telling them in her sweet and\nsimple way the story of her life in Domremy, and how she had first\nheard these voices from Heaven, or seen wondrous visions of\nunspeakable glories; and how she had learnt, by slow degrees, that\nwhich her Lord had for her to do, and had lost, by little and\nlittle, the fear which first possessed her, till now she knew not\nof the name of the word. She had but to follow where her voices\nguided.\n\nAnd the people believed in her, heart and soul. Her fame spread far\nand wide, and had she lifted but a finger, she might have been at\nthe head of an armed band of citizens and soldiers, yea, and many\ngentlemen and knights as well, all vowed to live and die in her\nservice. But this was not what was her destiny.\n\n\"I thank you, my friends,\" she would say, if such a step were\nproposed by any ardent soul, impatient of this long delay; \"but\nthus it may not be. My Lord has decreed that the Dauphin shall send\nme forth at the head of his armies, and with a troop of his\nsoldiers; and he will do this ere long. Be not afraid. We must\nneeds have patience, as did our Lord Himself, and be obedient, as\nHe was. For only as we look to Him for grace and guidance can we\nhope to do His perfect will.\"\n\nThus spoke the Maid, who, being without letters, and knowing, as\nshe said, no prayers save the Pater Noster, Ave Maria, and Credo,\nyet could speak in such fashion to those who sought her. Was it\nwonder that the people believed in her? that they would have been\nready to tear in pieces any who durst contemn her mission, or\ndeclare her possessed of evil spirits?\n\nYet I will not say that it was fear which possessed the hearts of\nher judges, and decided their ruling in this matter. I trow they\ncould not look upon her, or hear her, without conviction of heart.\nNevertheless it is possible that the respect for popular enthusiasm\nled them to speak in such high praise of the Maid, and to add that\nshe was in the right in assuming the dress which she wore. For she\nhad been sent to do man's work, and for this a man's garb was the\nonly fitting one to wear. And this ruling was heard with great\nacclamation of satisfaction; for her dress had been almost more\ncommented upon than any other matter by some, and that the Church\nhad set its sanction upon that which common sense deemed most right\nand fitting, robbed the most doubtful of all scruple, and gave to\nthe Maid herself no small pleasure.\n\n\"I do in this, as in all other things, that which I have been\nbidden,\" she said. \"But I would not willingly act unseemly in the\neyes of good men and virtuous women; wherefore I am glad that my\njudges have spoken thus, and I thank them from my heart for their\ngentle treatment of me.\"\n\nIt was ever thus with the Maid. No anger or impatience overset her\nsweet serenity and humility. She would not let herself take\noffence, or resent these ordeals to which, time after time, she was\nsubjected. Nay, it was she who defended the proceedings when we\nattacked them, saying that it behoved men to act with care and\ncaution in these great matters, and that her only trouble in the\ndelay was the sufferings and sorrows of the poor beleaguered\ngarrison and citizens in Orleans, to whose help and relief she\nlonged to fly.\n\nSo certain was she that before long she would be upon her way, that\nat Poictiers she composed that letter to the English King, his\nRegent, and his Generals which has been so much talked of since. It\nwas a truly wonderful document to be penned by a village maiden;\nfor in it she adjured them to cease from warring with the rightful\nKing of France, whom God would have to rule the realm for Him, to\ngo back to their own country, leaving peace behind them instead of\nwar, and imploring them then to join with the King of France in a\ncrusade against the Saracens. She speaks of herself as one who has\npower to drive them from the kingdom if they will not go in peace\nas adjured. Calling herself throughout \"The Maid,\" she tells them\nplainly that they will not be able to stand against her; that she\nwill come against them in the power of the King of Heaven, Who will\ngive to her more strength than ever can be brought against her; and\nin particular she begs of them to retire from the city of Orleans;\nelse, if they do not, they shall come to great misfortune there.\n\nThis letter took some time in the composition, and was written for\nher by Sir Guy de Laval, though we were all in her counsel as she\ndictated it.\n\nBy this I do not mean that we advised her. On the contrary, we\ngazed at her amazed, knowing how fruitless such an injunction must\nbe to the haughty victorious nation, who had us, so to speak, in\nthe dust at her feet. But the Maid saw with other eyes than ours.\n\n\"It may be that there will be some holy man of God in their camp to\nwhom my Lord will reveal His will, as He hath done to me, and will\nshow the things which must come to pass. I would so willingly spare\nall the bloodshed and misery which war will bring. It is so\nterrible a thing for Christian men to war one with another!\"\n\nSo this letter, with its superscription \"JHESUS MARIA,\" was written\nand dispatched to the English, and the Maid turned her attention to\nother matters near her heart, such as the design and execution of\nthose banners which were to be carried before her armies in battle,\nand lead them on to victory. And these same words, \"Jhesus Maria,\"\nshe decreed should appear upon each of the three standards, in\ntoken that she went not forth in her own strength, nor even in that\nof the King of France; but in the power which was from above, and\nin the strength given by those who sent her.\n\nNow there came to Poictiers to see the Maid at this time many\npersons from other places, and amongst these was a Scotchman called\nHauves Polnoir, who brought with him his daughter, a fair girl,\nbetween whom and the Maid a great love speedily sprang up. These\nPolnoirs were the most skilful workers in embroideries and such\nlike of all the country round, and to them was entrusted the making\nof the three banners, according to the instructions of the Maid.\n\nThere was first the great white silken standard, with the golden\nfleur-de-lys of France, and a representation on the reverse of the\nAlmighty God between two adoring angels; then a smaller banner,\nwith a device representing the Annunciation, which she always gave\nto one of her immediate attendants or squires to carry into battle;\nand for herself she had a little triangular banneret of white, with\nan image of the Crucified Christ upon it, and this she carried\nherself, and it was destined to be the rallying point of\ninnumerable engagements, for the sight of that little fluttering\npennon showed the soldiers where the Maid was leading them, and\nthough this was in the thickest and sorest of the strife, they\nwould press towards it with shouts of joy and triumph, knowing\nthat, where the Maid led, there victory was won.\n\nAll these matters were arranged whilst we were kept in waiting at\nPoictiers; and the Polnoirs returned to Tours to execute the orders\nthere in their own workshop. The Maid promised to visit them on her\nway from Chinon to Orleans, and so bid them a kindly farewell.\nPerhaps I may here add that when the Dauphin, upon his coronation,\ninsisted upon presenting the Maid with a sum of money, the use she\nmade of it, after offering at various shrines, was to provide a\nmarriage dowry for Janet Polnoir. Never did she think of herself;\nnever did she desire this world's goods.\n\nThis was shown very plainly upon her triumphant return to Chinon,\nwith the blessing and sanction of the Church upon her mission, with\nthe enthusiasm of the people growing and increasing every day, and\nher fame flying throughout the length and breadth of the realm. By\nthis time the King and all his Court knew that a deliverer had been\nraised up in our midst, and instead of lowly lodgings being\nallotted to the Maid and her train, the whole Tower of Coudray was\nset apart for the use of herself and her suite. The custodian De\nBelier and his wife had charge of her, and to her were now\nappointed a staff, of which the brave Jean d'Aulon was the chief,\nand to which Bertrand and Sir Guy de Laval and myself belonged,\ntogether with many more knights and gentlemen, all anxious to do\nservice under her banner. Also she had in her train some persons of\nlowlier degree, such as her brothers, for whom she always had\ntender care, and who believed devoutly in her mission, although\nthey saw of necessity less and less of one another as the Maid's\nmission progressed, and took her into a different world.\n\nBut all this grandeur was no delight to her, save inasmuch as it\nshowed that at last her mission was recognised and honoured. When\nasked what she would have for herself in the matter of dress and\narmour, her answer was that she had already all she required,\nalthough she only possessed at this time one suit more than she had\nstarted forth with from Vaucouleurs. Although she saw the courtiers\nfluttering about like butterflies, and noted how men, as well as\nwomen, decked themselves in choice stuffs and flashing jewels, she\nasked none of these things for herself; and when the Queen of\nSicily, always her best and kindest friend, sent to her some\nclothing of her own designing--all white, and beautifully worked,\nsome with silver, and some with gold thread and cord, and a mantle\nof white velvet, lined with cloth of silver--she looked at the\nbeautiful garments with something between a smile and a sigh; then\nturning towards the great lady who stood by to watch her, she first\nkissed her hand, and then, with a sudden impulse of affection, put\nher arms about her neck, and was drawn into a close embrace.\n\n\"Are you not pleased with them, my child?\" spoke Queen Yolande\ngently; \"they would have decked you in all the colours of the\nrainbow, and made you to blaze with jewels; but I would not have it\nThe Virgin Maid, I told them, should be clad all in white, and my\nword prevailed, and thus you see your snowy raiment. I had thought\nyou would be pleased with it, ma mie.\"\n\n\"Madame, it is beautiful; I have never dreamed of such. It is too\nfine, too costly for such as I. I am but a peasant maid--\"\n\n\"You are the chosen of the King of Heaven, my child. You must think\nalso of that. You are now the leader of the King's armies. You have\nto do honour alike to a Heavenly and an earthly Monarch; and shall\nwe let our champion go forth without such raiment as is fitting to\nher mission?\"\n\nThen the Maid bent her head, and answered with sweet gladness:\n\n\"If it is thus that the world regards me, I will wear these\ntrappings with a glad and thankful heart; for in sooth I would seek\nto do honour to His Majesty. As for my Lord in the Heavens, I trow\nthat He doth look beneath such matters of gay adornment; yet even\nso, I would have His mission honoured in the sight of all men, and\nHis messenger fitly arrayed.\"\n\nSo the Maid put on her spotless apparel, and looked more than ever\nlike a youthful warrior, going forth with stainless shield, in the\nquest of chivalrous adventure. The whole Court was entranced by her\nbeauty, her lofty dignity, her strange air of aloofness from the\nworld, which made her move amongst them as a thing apart, and\nseemed to set a seal upon her every word and act.\n\nWhen she spoke of the coming strife, and her plans for the relief\nof the beleaguered city, her eyes would shine, a ringing note of\nauthority would be heard in her voice, she would fearlessly enter\ninto debate with the King and his Ministers, and tell them that\nwhich she was resolved to do, whether they counselled it or no. At\nsuch moments she appeared gifted with a power impossible rightly to\ndescribe. Without setting herself up in haughtiness, she yet\noverbore all opposition by her serene composure and calm serenity\nin the result. Men of war said that she spoke like a soldier and a\nstrategist; they listened to her in amaze, and wondered what the\ngreat La Hire would say when he should arrive, to find that a\ncountry maiden had been set over his head.\n\nIn other matters, too, the Maid knew her mind, and spoke it with\ncalm decision. The Queen of Sicily had not been content with\nordering the Maid's dress alone, she had also given orders to the\nfirst armourer in Tours to fashion her a suit of light armour for\nthe coming strife. This armour was of white metal, and richly\ninlaid with silver, so that when the sun glinted upon it, it shone\nwith a dazzling white radiance, almost blinding to behold. The\nKing, also, resolved to do his share, had ordered for her a light\nsword, with a blade of Toledo steel; but though the Maid gratefully\naccepted the gift of the white armour, and appeared before all the\nCourt attired therein, and with her headpiece, with its floating\nwhite plumes crowning it all, yet, as she made her reverence before\nthe King, she gently put aside his gift of the sword.\n\n\"Gentle Dauphin,\" she said, \"I thank you from my heart; but for me\nthere is another sword which I must needs carry with me into\nbattle; and I pray you give me leave to send and fetch it from\nwhere it lies unknown and forgotten.\"\n\n\"Why, Maiden, of what speak you?\" he answered; \"is not this\njewelled weapon good enough? You will find its temper of the best.\nI know not where you will find a better!\"\n\n\"No better a sword, Sire,\" she answered; \"and yet the one which I\nmust use; for so it hath been told me of my Lord. In the church of\nFierbois, six leagues from hence, beneath the high altar, there\nlies a sword, and this sword must I use. Suffer me, I pray you, to\nsend and fetch it thence. Then shall I be ready and equipped to\nsally forth against the foes of my country.\"\n\n\"But who has told you of this sword, my maiden?\"\n\n\"My Lord did tell me of it, as I knelt before the altar, ere I came\nto Chinon. It is in the church of St. Catherine; and suffer only my\ngood knight, Jean de Metz, to go and make search for it, and he\nwill surely bring it hither to me.\"\n\nNow I did well remember how, as we knelt in the church at Fierbois\nin the dimness of the early morn, the Maid had received some\nmessage, unheard by those beside her; and gladly did I set forth\nupon mine errand to seek and bring to her this sword.\n\nWhen I reached Fierbois, which was in the forenoon of the day\nfollowing, the good priests of the church knew nothing of any such\nsword; but the fame of the Maid having reached their ears, they\nwere proud and glad that their church of St. Catherine should be\nhonoured thus, and calling together some workmen, they made careful\nsearch, and sure enough, before we had dug deep, the spade struck\nand clinked against metal, and forth from beneath the altar we drew\na sword, once a strong and well-tempered weapon, doubtless, but now\ncovered with rust, so that the good priests looked askance at it,\nand begged to have it to cleanse and polish.\n\nIt was then too late for my return the same day, so I left it to\nthem, and lodged me in the town, where all the people flocked to\nhear news of the Maid and of the coming campaign.\n\nThen in the morning, with the first of the light, the sword was\nbrought to me; and surely many persons in Fierbois must have sat up\nall the night, for every speck of rust had been cleansed away, and\na velvet scabbard made or found for the weapon, which the priests\nbegged of me to take with it to the Maid as their gift, and with\ntheir benediction upon it and her.\n\nMy return was awaited with some stir of interest, and before I had\nwell dismounted I was hurried, all travel stained as I was, into\nthe presence of the King. There was the Maid waiting also, calm and\nserene, and when she saw the thing which I carried in my hands, her\nface lighted; she took several steps forward, and bent her knee as\nshe reverently took the sword, as though she received it from some\nHigher Power.\n\n\"It was even as she said?\" questioned the King, quickly.\n\n\"Even so, Sire; the sword of which no man knew aught, was lying\nburied beneath the high altar of St. Catherine's Church, in\nFierbois.\"\n\nA murmur of surprise and gratification ran through the assembly.\nBut there was no surprise upon the Maid's face.\n\n\"Did you doubt, Sire?\" she asked, and he could not meet the glance\nof her clear eyes.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII. HOW THE MAID MARCHED FOR ORLEANS.\n\n\nMethinks the Maid loved that ancient sword better than all her\nshining armour of silver! Strange to say, the jewelled sheath of\nthe King's Toledo blade fitted the weapon from Fierbois, and he\nsupplemented the priests' gift of a scabbard by this second rich\none. The Maid accepted it with graceful thanks; yet both the\ngorgeous cases were laid away, and a simple sheath of leather made;\nfor the sword was to be carried at her side into battle, and\nneither white nor crimson velvet was suited to such a purpose.\n\nNor would the Maid let us have her sword sharpened for her. A\ncurious look came upon her face as Bertrand pointed out that\nalthough now clean and shining, its edges were too blunt for real\nuse. She looked round upon us as we stood before her, and passed\nher fingers lovingly down the edges of the weapon.\n\n\"I will keep it as it is,\" she answered; \"for though I must needs\ncarry it into battle with me, I pray my Lord that it may never be\nmy duty to shed Christian blood. And if the English King will but\nlisten to the words of counsel which I have sent to him, perchance\nit may even now be that bloodshed will be spared.\"\n\nIn sooth, I believe that she would far rather have seen the enemy\ndisperse of their own accord, than win the honour and glory of the\ncampaign, which she knew beforehand would bring to her renown, the\nlike of which no woman in the world's history has ever won. She\nwould have gone back gladly, I truly believe, to her home in\nDomremy, and uttered no plaint, even though men ceased after the\nevent to give her the praise and glory; for herself she never\ndesired such.\n\nBut we, who knew the temper of the English, were well aware that\nthis would never be. Even though they might by this time have heard\nsomewhat of the strange thing which had happened, and how the\nFrench were rallying round the standard of the Angelic Maid, yet\nwould they not readily believe that their crushed and beaten foes\nwould have power to stand against them. More ready would they be to\nscoff than to fear.\n\nNow, at last, after all these many hindrances and delays, all was\nin readiness for the start. April had well nigh run its course, and\nnature was looking her gayest and loveliest when the day came that\nwe marched forth out of the Castle of Chinon, a gallant little\narmy, with the Maid in her shining white armour and her fluttering\nwhite pennon at our head, and took the road to Tours, where the\ngreat and redoubtable La Hire was to meet us, and where we were to\nfind a great band of recruits and soldiers, all eager now to be led\nagainst the foe.\n\nMuch did we wonder how the Generals of the French army would\nreceive the Maid, set, in a sense, over them as Commander-in-Chief\nof this expedition, with a mandate from the King that she was to be\nobeyed, and that her counsels and directions were to be followed.\nWe heard conflicting rumours on this score. There were those who\ndeclared that so desperate was the condition of the city, and so\ndisheartened the garrison and citizens that they welcomed with joy\nthe thought of this deliverer, and believed already that she was\nsent of God for their succour and salvation. Others, on the\ncontrary, averred that the officers of the army laughed to scorn\nthe thought of being aided or led by a woman--a peasant--une\nperonelle de bas lieu, as they scornfully called her--and that they\nwould never permit themselves to be led or guided by one who could\nhave no knowledge of war, even though she might be able to read the\nsecrets of the future.\n\nIn spite of what had been now ruled by the Church concerning her,\nthere were always those, both in the French and English camps, who\ncalled her a witch; and we, who heard so many flying rumours,\nwondered greatly what view the redoubtable La Hire took of this\nmatter, and Dunois, the Bastard of Orleans, as he was often called.\nFor these two men, with Xaintrailles, were the ruling Generals in\nOrleans, and their voice would be paramount with the army there,\nand would carry much weight with those reinforcements for the\nrelieving force which we were to find awaiting us at Tours and at\nBlois.\n\nNow La Hire, as all men know, was a man of great renown, and of\nimmense personal weight and influence. He was a giant in stature,\nwith a voice like a trumpet, and thews of steel; a mighty man in\nbattle, a daring leader, yet cautious and sagacious withal; a man\nfeared and beloved by those whom he led in warfare; a gay roysterer\nat other times, with as many strange oaths upon his lips as there\nare saints in the calendar; what the English call a swashbuckler\nand daredevil; a man whom one would little look to be led or guided\nby a woman, for he was impatient of counsel, and headstrong alike\nin thought and action.\n\nAnd this was the man who was to meet us at Tours, form his\nimpression of the Maid, and throw the great weight of his personal\ninfluence either into one scale or the other. Truth to tell, I was\nsomething nervous of this ordeal, and there were many who shared my\ndoubts and fears. But the Maid rode onward, serene and calm, the\nlight of joy and hope in her eyes, untroubled by any doubts. At\nlast she was on her way to the relief of the beleaguered city;\nthere was no room for misgiving in her faithful heart.\n\nWe entered Tours amid the clashing of joy bells, the plaudits of\nthe soldiers, and the laughter, the weeping, the blessings of an\nexcited populace, who regarded the Maid as the saviour of the\nrealm. They crowded to their windows and waved flags and kerchiefs.\nThey thronged upon her in the streets to gaze at her fair face and\ngreet her as a deliverer.\n\nIt was indeed a moving scene; but she rode through it, calm and\ntranquil, pausing in the press to speak a few words of thanks and\ngreeting, but preserving always her gentle maidenly air of dignity\nand reserve. And so we came to the house which had been set apart\nfor her use on her stay, and there we saw, standing at the foot of\nthe steps which led from the courtyard into the house, a mighty,\nmailed figure, the headpiece alone lacking of his full armour, a\ncarven warrior, as it seemed, with folded arms and bent brows,\ngazing upon us as we filed in under the archway, but making no move\nto approach us.\n\nI did not need the whisper which ran through the ranks of our\nescort to know that this man was the great and valiant La Hire.\n\nAs the Maid's charger paused at the foot of the steps, this man\nstrode forward with his hand upraised as in a salute, and giving\nher his arm, he assisted her to alight, and for a few moments the\ntwo stood looking into each other's eyes with mutual recognition,\ntaking, as it were, each the measure of the other.\n\nThe Maid was the first to speak, her eyes lighting with that deep\ndown, indescribable smile, which she kept for her friends alone.\nWhen I saw that smile in her eyes, as they were upraised to La\nHire's face, all my fears vanished in a moment.\n\n\"You are the Dauphin's brave General La Hire, from Orleans,\" she\nsaid; \"I thank you, monsieur, for your courtesy in coming thus to\nmeet me. For so can we take counsel together how best the enemies\nof our country may be overthrown.\"\n\n\"You are the Maid, sent of God and the King for the deliverance of\nthe realm,\" answered La Hire, as he lifted her hand to his lips, \"I\nbid you welcome in the name of Orleans, its soldiers, and its\ncitizens. For we have been like men beneath a spell--a spell too\nstrong for us to break. You come to snap the spell, to break the\nyoke, and therefore I bid you great welcome on the part of myself\nand the citizens and soldiers of Orleans. Without your counsels to\nHis Majesty, and the aid you have persuaded him to send, the city\nmust assuredly have fallen ere this. Only the knowledge that help\nwas surely coming has kept us from surrender.\"\n\n\"I would the help had come sooner, my General,\" spoke the Maid;\n\"but soon or late it is one with my Lord, who will give us the\npromised victory.\"\n\nFrom that moment friendship, warm and true, was established betwixt\nthe bronzed warrior and the gentle Maid, who took up, as by natural\nright, her position of equal--indeed, of superior--in command, not\nwith any haughty assumption, not with any arrogant words or looks,\nbut sweetly and simply, as though there were no question but that\nthe place was hers; that to her belonged the ordering of the\nforces, the overlooking of all. Again and again, even we, who had\ncome to believe so truly in her divine commission, were astonished\nat the insight she showed, the sagacity of her counsels, the\nwonderful authority she was able to exert over the soldiers brought\ntogether, a rude, untrained, insubordinate mass of men, collected\nfrom all ranks and classes of the people, some being little better\nthan bands of marauders, living on prey and plunder, since of\nregular fighting there had been little of late; others, mercenaries\nhired by the nobles to swell their own retinues; many raw recruits,\nfired by ardour at the thought of the promised deliverance; a few\nregular trained bands, with their own officers in command, but\nforming altogether a heterogeneous company, by no means easy to\ndrill into order, and swelled by another contingent at Blois, of\nvery much the same material.\n\nBut the Maid assembled the army together, and thus addressed them.\nAt least, this was the substance of her words; nothing can\nreproduce the wonderful earnestness and power of her voice and\nlook, for her face kindled as she spoke, and the sunshine playing\nupon her as she sat her charger in the glory of her silver armour,\nseemed to encompass her with a pure white light, so that men's eyes\nwere dazzled as they looked upon her, and they whispered one to the\nother:\n\n\"The Angelic Maid! The Angelic Maid! surely it is an Angel of God\ncome straight down from Heaven to aid and lead us.\"\n\n\"My friends,\" she spoke, and her voice carried easily to every\ncorner of the great square, packed with a human mass, motionless,\nhanging upon her words; \"My friends, we are about to start forth\nupon a crusade as holy as it is possible for men to be concerned\nin, for it is as saviours and deliverers of your brethren and our\ncountry that we go; and the Lord of Hosts is with us. He has bidden\nus march, and He has promised to go with us, even as He was with\nthe Israelites of old. And if we do not see His presence in pillar\nof cloud by day, and pillar of fire by night, we yet do know and\nfeel Him near us; and He will give abundant proof that He fights\nupon our side!\"\n\nShe lifted her face for a moment to the sky. She was bareheaded,\nand every head was bared in that vast crowd as she uttered the name\nof the Most High. It seemed as though a light from Heaven fell upon\nher as she spoke, and a deep murmur ran through the throng. It was\nas if they answered that they needed no other vision than that of\nthe Maid herself.\n\n\"If then the Lord be with us, must we not show ourselves worthy of\nHis holy presence in our midst? O my friends, since I have been\nwith you these few days, my heart has been pained and grieved by\nthat which I have heard and seen. Oaths and blasphemies fall from\nyour lips, and you scarce know it yourselves. Drunkenness and vice\nprevail. O my friends, let this no longer be amongst us! Let us\ncleanse ourselves from all impurities; let our conversation be yea,\nyea, nay, nay. Let none take the name of the Lord in vain, nor soil\nHis holy cause by vice and uncleanness. O let us all, day by day,\nas the sun rises anew each morning, assemble to hear Mass, and to\nreceive the Holy Sacrament. Let every man make his confession. Holy\npriests are with us to hear all, and to give absolution. Let us\nstart forth upon the morrow purified and blessed of God, and let us\nday by day renew that holy cleansing and blessing, that the Lord\nmay indeed be with us and rest amongst us, and that His heart be\nnot grieved and burdened by that which He shall see and hear\namongst those to whom He has promised His help and blessing!\"\n\nThus she spoke; and a deep silence fell upon all, in the which it\nseemed to me the fall of a pin might have been heard. The Maid sat\nquite still for a moment, her own head bent as though in prayer.\nThen she lifted it, and a radiant smile passed over her face, a\nsmile as of assurance and thankful joy. She raised her hand and\nwaved it, almost as though she blessed, whilst she greeted her\nsoldiers, and then she turned her horse, the crowd making way for\nher in deep reverential silence, and rode towards her own lodging,\nwhere she remained shut up in her own room for the rest of the day.\n\nBut upon the following morning a strange thing had happened. Every\nsingle camp follower--all the women and all the disorderly rabble\nthat hangs upon the march of an army--had disappeared. They had\nslunk off in the night, and were utterly gone. The soldiers were\ngathered in the churches to hear Mass. All that could do so\nattended where it was known the Maid would be, and when she had\nreceived the Sacrament herself, hundreds crowded to do the like;\nand I suppose there were thousands in the city that day, who,\nhaving confessed and received absolution, received the pledge of\nthe Lord's death, though perhaps some of them had not thought of\nsuch a duty for years and years.\n\nAnd here I may say that this was not an act for once and all. Day\nby day in the camp Mass was celebrated, and the Holy Sacrament\ngiven to all who asked and came. The Maid ever sought to begin the\nday thus, and we of her personal household generally followed her\nexample. Even La Hire would come and kneel beside her, a little\nbehind, though it was some while before he desired to partake of\nthe Sacrament himself. But to be near her in this act of devotion\nseemed to give him joy and confidence and for her sake, because he\nsaw it pained her, he sought to break off his habit of profane\nswearing, and the use of those strange oaths before which men had\nbeen wont to quake.\n\nAnd she, seeing how sorely tried he was to keep from his accustomed\nhabit, did come to his aid with one of her frank and almost\nboy-like smiles, and told him that he might swear by his baton if\nhe needs must use some expletive; but that no holy name must\nlightly pass his lips.\n\nStrange indeed was it to see the friendship which had so quickly\nsprung up between that rough warrior and the Maid, whom he could\nalmost have crushed to death between his mighty hands.\n\nIf all the Generals in the army were as noble minded as he, and as\nready to receive her whom God had sent them, we should have little\nto fear; but there was Dunois yet to reckon with, who had promised\nto come forth and meet her outside the town (for the blockade, as I\nhave before said, was not perfect; and on the south side men could\nstill come and go with caution and care), and to lead her in\ntriumph within its walls, if the English showed not too great\nresistance.\n\nBut even now we were to find how that they did not yet trust the\nMaid's authority as it should be trusted; and even La Hire was in\nfault here, as afterwards he freely owned. For the Maid had told\nthem to lead her to the city on the north side, as her plan was to\nstrike straight through the English lines, and scatter the\nbesieging force ere ever she entered the town at all. But since the\ncity lies to the north of the river, and the English had built\naround it twelve great bastilles, as they called them, and lay in\nall their strength on this side, it seemed too venturesome to\nattack in such a manner; and in this La Hire and Dunois were both\nagreed. But La Hire did not tell the Maid of any disagreements, but\nknowing the country to be strange to her, he led her and the army\nby a route which she believed the right one, till suddenly we beheld\nthe towers of Orleans and the great surrounding fortifications\nrising up before our eyes; and, behold! the wide river with its\nbridge more than half destroyed, lay between us and our goal!\n\nAt this sight the eyes of the Maid flashed fire, and she turned\nthem upon La Hire, but spoke never a word. His face flushed a dull\ncrimson with a sudden, unexpected shame. To do him justice be it\nsaid, that (as we later heard) he had been against this deception\nafter having seen the Maid; but there were now many notable\ngenerals and marshals and officers with the army, all of whom were\nresolved upon this course of action, which had been agreed upon\nbeforehand with Dunois, and they had overborne his objections,\nwhich were something faint-hearted perhaps, for with his love and\nadmiration for the Maid, he trembled, as he now explained to her,\nto lead her by so perilous a route, and declared that she could\nwell be conducted into the city through the Burgundy gate, by\nwater, without striking a blow, instead of having to fight her way\nin past the English bastions.\n\n\"I thank you for your care for me, my friend,\" she answered, \"but\nit were better to have obeyed my voice. The English arrows could\nnot have touched me. We should have entered unopposed. Now much\nprecious time must needs be lost, for how can this great army be\ntransported across yonder river?--and the bridge, even if we could\ndislodge the English from the tower of Les Tourelles, is broken\ndown and useless.\"\n\nIndeed it seemed plain to all that the Generals had made a great\nblunder; for though we marched on to Checy, where Dunois met us,\nand whence some of the provisions brought for the starving city\ncould be dispatched in the boats assembled there, it was plain that\nthere was no transport sufficient for the bulk of the army; and the\nMaid, as she and Dunois stood face to face, at last regarded him\nwith a look of grave and searching scrutiny.\n\n\"Are you he whom men call the Bastard of Orleans?\"\n\n\"Lady, I am; and I come to welcome you with gladness, for we are\nsore beset by our foes; yet all within the city are taking heart of\ngrace, believing that a Deliverer from Heaven has been sent to\nthem.\"\n\n\"They think well,\" answered the Maid, \"and right glad am I to come.\nBut wherefore have I been led hither by this bank, instead of the\none upon which Talbot and his English lie?\"\n\n\"Lady, the wisest of our leaders held that this would be the safest\nway.\"\n\n\"The counsel of God and our Lord is more sure and more powerful\nthan that of generals and soldiers,\" she answered gravely. \"You\nhave made an error in this. See to it that such error be not\nrepeated. I will that in all things my Lord be obeyed.\"\n\nThe Generals stood dumb and discomfited before her; a thrill ran\nthrough the army when her words were repeated there; but, indeed,\nwe all quickly saw the wisdom of her counsel and the folly of her\nadversaries; for the bulk of the army had perforce to march back to\nBlois to cross the river there, whilst only a thousand picked men\nwith the chiefest of the Generals and the convoys of provisions\nprepared to enter the city by water and pass through the Burgundy\nGate.\n\nAt the first it seemed as though even this would be a dangerous\ntask, for the wind blew hard in a contrary direction, and the\ndeeply-laden boats began to be in peril of foundering. But as we\nstood watching them from the bank, and saw their jeopardy, and some\nwere for recalling them and waiting, the Maid's voice suddenly rang\nforth in command:\n\n\"Leave them alone, and hasten forward with the others. The wind\nwill change, and a favouring breeze shall carry us all safe into\nthe city. The English shall not fire a shot to hinder us, for the\nfear of the Maid has fallen upon them!\"\n\nWe gazed at her in wonder as she stood a little apart, her face\nfull of power and calm certainty. And indeed, it was but a very few\nminutes later that the wind dropped to a dead calm, and a light air\nsprang up from a contrary direction, and the laden boats gladly\nspreading sail, floated quietly onwards with their precious load\ntowards the suffering city.\n\nThen we embarked, somewhat silently, for the awe which fell upon\nthose who had never seen the Maid before, extended even to us.\nMoreover, with those frowning towers of the English so close upon\nus, crowded with soldiers who seemed to know what was happening,\nand who were coming into Orleans, it was scarce possible not to\nlook for resistance and hostile attack.\n\nBut curious as it may seem, not a shot was fired as we passed\nalong. A silence strange and sinister seemed to hang over the lines\nof the enemy; but when we reached the city how all was changed!\n\nIt was about eight o'clock in the evening when at last we finished\nour journey by water and land, and entered the devoted town. There\nthe chiefest citizens came hurrying to meet us, leading a white\ncharger for their Deliverer to ride upon.\n\nAnd when she was mounted, the people thronged about her weeping and\nshouting, blessing and hailing her as their champion and saviour.\nThe streets were thronged with pale-faced men; women and children\nhung from the windows, showering flowers at our feet. Torches lit\nup the darkening scene, and shone from the breastplates and\nheadpieces of the mailed men. But the Maid in her white armour\nseemed like a being from another sphere; and the cry of \"St.\nMichael! St. Michael himself!\" resounded on all sides, and one did\nnot wonder.\n\nNothing would serve the Maid but to go straight to the Cathedral\nfirst, and offer thanksgiving for her arrival here, and the people\nflocked with her, till the great building was filled to overflowing\nwith her retinue of soldiers and her self-constituted followers.\nSome begged of her to address them from the steps at the conclusion\nof the brief service, but she shook her head.\n\n\"I have no words for them--only I love them all,\" she answered,\nwith a little natural quiver of emotion in her voice. \"Tell them\nso, and that I have come to save them. And then let me go home.\"\n\nSo La Hire stood forth and gave the Maid's message in his trumpet\ntones, and the Maid was escorted by the whole of the joyful and\nloving crowd to the house of the Treasurer Boucher, where were her\nquarters, and where she was received with acclamation and joy. And\nthus the Maid entered the beleaguered city of Orleans.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX. HOW THE MAID ASSUMED COMMAND AT ORLEANS.\n\n\nThe house of the Treasurer was a beautiful building in the Gothic\nstyle, and weary as was the Maid with the toils and excitements\nthrough which she had passed, I saw her eyes kindle with pleasure\nand admiration as she was ceremoniously led into the great\nbanqueting hall, where the tables were spread with abundant good\ncheer (despite the reduced condition of the city), to do honour to\nher who came as its Deliverer.\n\nThere was something solemn and church-like in these surroundings\nwhich appealed at once to the Maid. She had a keen eye for beauty,\nwhether of nature or in the handiwork of man, and her quick\npenetrating glances missed nothing of the stately grandeur of the\nhouse, the ceremonious and courtly welcome of the Treasurer, its\nmaster, or the earnest, wistful gaze of his little daughter\nCharlotte, who stood holding fast to her mother's hand in the\nbackground, but feasting her great dark eyes upon the wonderful\nshining figure of the Maid, from whose white armour the lights of\nthe great hall flashed back in a hundred points of fire.\n\nThe greeting of the master of the house being over, the Maid threw\noff for a moment the grave dignity of her bearing throughout this\ntrying day, and became a simple girl again. With a quick grace of\nmovement she crossed the space which divided her from the little\nchild, and kneeling suddenly down, took the wondering little one in\nher arms, and held her in a close embrace.\n\n\"Ma petite, ma mie, ma tres chere,\" those nearest heard her murmur.\n\"Love me, darling, love me! I have a little sister at home who\nloves me, but I had to go away and leave her. Perhaps I may never\nsee her again. Try to love me instead, and comfort my heart, for\nsometimes I am very, very weary, and hungry for the love that I\nhave lost!\"\n\nNow, one might have thought that so young a child--for she was not\nmore than eight years old, and small for her years--would have been\naffrighted at the sudden approach of the shining warrior, about\nwhom so many stories had been told, and who looked more like the\nArchangel Michael, as many thought, than a creature of human flesh\nand blood. But instead of showing any fear, the child flung her\narms about the neck of the Maid, and pressed kisses upon her\nface--her headpiece she had removed at her entrance--and when the\nmother would have loosened her hold, and sent the child away with\nher attendant, little Charlotte resisted, clinging to her new\nfriend with all her baby strength, and the Maid looked pleadingly\nup into the kindly face of the lady, and said:\n\n\"Ah, madame, I pray you let her remain with me. It is so long since\nI felt the arms of a child about my neck!\"\n\nAnd so the little one stayed to the banquet, and was given the\nplace of honour beside the Maid. But neither of these twain had any\nrelish for the dainty meats and rich dishes served for us. As on\nthe march, so now in the walls of the city, the Maid fared as\nsimply as the rudest of her soldiers. She mixed water with her\nwine, took little save a slice or two of bread, and though to\nplease her hosts she just touched one or two specially prepared\ndishes, it was without any real relish for them, and she was\nevidently glad when she was able to make excuse to leave the table\nand go to the room prepared for her.\n\nBut here again she showed her simple tastes, for when the great\nguest chamber was shown her she shrank a little at its size and\nluxury, and, still holding the child's hand in hers, she turned to\nthe mother who was in attendance and said:\n\n\"I pray you, sweet lady, let me whilst I am your guest share the\nroom of this little daughter of yours. I am but a simple country\ngirl, all this grandeur weighs me down. If I might but sleep with\nthis little one in my arms--as the little sister at home loved to\nlie--I should sleep so peacefully and have such happy dreams! Ah,\nmadame!--let me have my will in this!\"\n\nAnd Madame Boucher, being a mother and a true woman, understood;\nand answered by taking the Maid in her arms and kissing her. And\nso, as long as the Maid remained in Orleans, she shared the little\nwhite bedroom of the child of the house, which opened from that of\nthe mother, and the bond which grew up between the three was so\nclose and tender a one, that I trow the good Treasurer and his wife\nwould fain have regarded this wonderful Maid as their own daughter,\nand kept her ever with them, had duty and her voices not called her\nelsewhere when the first part of her task was done.\n\nNow Bertrand and I, together with Pierre, her brother, and the\nChevalier d'Aulon and Sir Guy de Laval, were lodged in the same\nhouse, and entertained most hospitably by the Treasurer, who sat up\nwith us far into the night after our arrival, listening with\nearnest attention to all we could tell him respecting the Maid, and\ntelling us on his part of the feeling in Orleans anent her and her\nmission, and what we might expect to follow her arrival here.\n\n\"The townsfolk seem well-nigh wild for joy at sight of her,\" spoke\nDe Laval, \"and the more they see of her, the more they will love\nher and reverence her mission. I was one who did openly scoff, or\nat least had no faith in any miracle, until that I saw her with\nmine own eyes; and then some voice in my heart--I know not how to\nspeak more plainly of it--or some wonderful power in her glance or\nin her voice, overcame me. And I knew that she had in very truth\ncome from God, and I have never doubted of her divine commission\nfrom that day to this. It will be the same here in Orleans, if,\nindeed, there be any that doubt.\"\n\n\"Alas! there are--too many!\" spoke the Treasurer, shaking his head,\n\"I am rejoiced that our two greatest Generals, Dunois and La Hire,\nhave become her adherents, for I myself believe that she has been\nsent of God for our deliverance, and so do the townsfolk almost to\na man. But there are numbers of the lesser officers--bold men and\ntrue--who have fought valiantly throughout the siege, and who have\ngreat influence with the soldiers they lead, and these men are full\nof disgust at the thought of being led by a woman--a girl--and one\nof low degree. They would be willing for her to stand aloft and\nprophesy victory for their arms, but that she should arm herself\nand lead them in battle, and direct operations herself, fills them\nwith disgust and contempt. There is like to be trouble, I fear,\nwith some of these. There is bold De Gamache, for example, who\ndeclares he would sooner fold up his banner and serve as a simple\nsoldier in the ranks, than hold a command subservient to that of a\nlow-born woman!\"\n\nThat name as applied to the Angelic Maid set our teeth on edge; yet\nwas it wonderful that some should so regard her?\n\n\"Let them but see her--and they will change their tune!\" spake\nBertrand quickly. \"A low-born woman! Would they speak thus of the\nBlessed Virgin? And yet according to the wisdom of the flesh it\nwould be as true of one as of the other.\"\n\nThe Treasurer spoke with grave thoughtfulness:\n\n\"Truly do I think that any person honoured by the Lord with a\ndirect mission from Himself becomes something different by virtue\nof that mission from what he or she was before. Yet we may not\nconfound this mission of the Maid here in Orleans with that one\nwhich came to the Blessed Mary.\"\n\n\"Nor had I any thought,\" answered Bertrand, \"of likening one to the\nother, save inasmuch as both have been maidens, born in lowly\nsurroundings, yet chosen for purity of heart and life, and for\nchildlike faith and obedience, for the honour of receiving a divine\ncommission. There the parallel stops; for there can be no\ncomparison regarding the work appointed to each. Yet even as this\nMaid shall fulfil her appointed task in obedience to the\ninjunctions received, she is worthy to be called the handmaid of\nthe Lord.\"\n\n\"To that I have nought to say but yea,\" answered the Treasurer\nheartily, \"and I pray our Lord and the Blessed Virgin to be with\nher and strengthen her, for I fear me she will have foes to contend\nwith from within as well as from without the city; and as all men\nknow, it is the distrust and contradiction of so-called friends\nwhich is harder to bear than the open enmity of the foe.\"\n\nIt was difficult for us, vowed heart and soul to the cause of the\nMaid, and honoured by her friendship and confidence, to believe\nthat any could be so blind as not to recognise in her a God-sent\nmessenger, whom they would delight to follow and to honour. Yet\nwhen I walked out upon the following morning--a sunny first of\nMay--to have a good look round at the position of the fortifications,\nthe ring of English bastilles to the north, the blockading towers\nupon the southern bank, I was quickly aware of a great deal of talk\ngoing on amongst the soldiers and the officers which was by no means\nfavourable to the cause of the Maid.\n\nVoices were hushed somewhat at my approach, for though none knew\nme, I was of course a stranger, and therefore likely to have\nentered the town in the train of the Maid, who had yesterday made\nher appearance there. But I heard enough to be sure that what the\nTreasurer had said last evening was likely to be true. The soldiers\nwere disposed to scoff at being led by a woman, and the officers to\ngrumble at having had to bear all the burden of the long siege, and\nthen when the King did send an army for the relief, to send it\nunder the command of this Maid, who would bear away the honour and\nglory which otherwise all might have shared.\n\nFrom their point of view, perhaps, this discontent was not\nunreasonable; but as I looked upon the works around me, I marvelled\nhow it had been possible for the English, unprotected as they must\nhave originally been, to erect these great towers for their own\nshelter, and from which to batter the town with their cannon and\ngreat stone balls, when the French in great numbers and protected\nby strong walls, ought to have been able to sally forth continually\nand so to harass them that the construction of such buildings\nshould have been impossible.\n\nThe great Dunois had shown considerable acumen. He had himself\ndestroyed all the suburbs of the town which lay without the walls,\nso that the English might find no shelter there, and when they had\neffected a lodgment on the south side of the river, he had\ndestroyed the greater part of the bridge, thus making it impossible\nfor the enemy to cross and take possession of the town. But he had\nnot stopped the erection of those threatening towers circling round\nthe city to the north, nor the construction of those still stronger\nblockading fortresses on the south side, Les Tourelles guarding the\nfragment of the broken bridge, and Les Augustins not far away.\n\nWhen I spoke to one grizzled old soldier about it, he shrugged his\nshoulders and made reply:\n\n\"What would you? Those English are helped of the devil himself. We\nhave tried to stand against them, but it is all to no purpose. Some\ndemon of fighting enters into them, and they know that we shall\nfly--and fly we do. At last there were none who would face them.\nOur generals sought in vain to lead them. You should have heard La\nHire swearing at them. O-he, O-he, he is a master of the art! Some\nof us would have followed him; but the rest--one might as well have\nasked a flock of sheep to go against the wolf, telling them they\nwere fifty to one! Not they! It was witchcraft, or something like\nit. They sat still on these ramparts and watched the English\nworking like moles or like ants, and never lifted a finger. Pouf!\nWhen men get to that they are not fit to fight They had better go\nhome and ply the distaff with the women.\"\n\n\"And let a woman come and lead their comrades to battle!\" I said,\nlaughing. \"Have you seen the wonderful Maid of whom all the world\nis talking?\"\n\n\"No; at least, I only caught a gleam of light upon her white armour\nlast night; but as I said to the boys in the guardroom, I care not\nwhether she be woman, witch, or angel; if she will bring back heart\nand courage, and make men again of all these chicken-hearted\npoltroons, I will follow her to the death wherever she may lead. I\nam sick with shame for the arms of France!\"\n\n\"Bravely spoken, my friend!\" I cried, giving him my hand; \"and if\nthat be the spirit of the army, I doubt not but that a few days\nwill see such a turn in the tide of warfare as shall make the whole\nworld stand aghast!\"\n\n\"Then you believe in her?\" quoth the old soldier, looking me\nshrewdly up and down.\n\n\"With my whole heart!\" I answered, as I turned and took my way back\nto my quarters.\n\nThat same day the Maid held a council of war, at which all the\nofficers of any importance were permitted to attend; and here it\nwas that she received the first real check since she had received\nthe King's commission and royal command.\n\n\"Let us attack the foe at once, and without delay, messires!\" she\nsaid, sitting at the head of the council table, fully armed, save\nfor her headpiece, and speaking in her clear, sweet, full tones,\nwherein power and confidence were blended; \"the Lord of Hosts is on\nour side. Let us go forth in His strength, and the victory will be\nours.\"\n\nBut they listened to her in silent consternation and amaze. Here\nwas this inexperienced girl, blind with enthusiasm, drunk with\nsuccess, her head completely turned by her reception last night,\nactually advising an assault upon the enemy before the arrival of\nthe army of relief, which had been forced to return to Blois to\ncross the river, and which could not arrive for a few more days.\nWhat madness would she next propose? Well, at least La Hire and\nDunois were there to curb her folly and impetuosity. A chit of a\ngirl like that to sit and tell them all to go forth to certain\ndeath at her command! As though they would not want all their\nstrength to aid the relieving army to enter when it should appear!\nAs though they were going to weaken themselves beforehand by any\nmad scheme of hers!\n\nThus the storm arose. Even La Hire, Dunois, and the Treasurer\nhimself, were against her. As for the lesser officers, when they\nbegan to speak, they scarce knew how to contain themselves, and\nrestrain their anger and scorn from showing itself too markedly\ntowards one who held the King's mandate of command.\n\nAnd of late the Maid had always been listened to with such honour\nand respect! How would she bear this contradiction and veiled\ncontempt, she who had come to assume the command of the city and\nits armies at the King's desire?\n\nShe sat very still and quiet at the table, as the storm hummed\nabout her. Her clear gaze travelled from face to face as one or\nanother of the officers rose and spoke. Sometimes a slight flush of\nred dyed her cheek for a moment; but never once did anger cloud her\nbrow, or impatience or contempt mar the wonderful serenity of her\nbeautiful eyes. Only once did she speak during the whole of the\ndebate, after her opening words had been delivered, and that was\nafter a very fiery oration on the part of a youthful officer, whose\nwords contained more veiled scorn of her and her mission than any\nother had dared to show.\n\nInstead of looking at him either in anger or in reproach, the\nMaid's own wonderful smile shone suddenly upon him as he concluded.\nThen she spoke:\n\n\"Captain de Gamache, you think yourself my foe now; but that will\nsoon be changed, and I thank you beforehand for the brave, true\nservice which you shall presently render me. But meantime, beware\nof rashness; for victory shall not come to the city without the\nMaid.\"\n\nHe gazed at her--we all gazed at her--in amaze, not knowing what\nher words portended. But she gave no explanation. She only rose to\nher feet and said:\n\n\"Then, gentlemen, since the attack is not to be yet--not till the\narrival of the relieving force, let me make the tour of the\nbattlements, and examine the defences of the city. I would that you\nhad faith to let me lead you forth today; but the time will come\nwhen I shall not have to plead with you--you will follow gladly in\nmy wake. For the rest, it would perchance be a sorrow to my brave\nmen, who have marched so far with me, not to partake in the victory\nwhich the Lord is about to send us; wherefore I will the more\nreadily consent to delay, though, let me tell you, you are in the\nwrong to withstand the wishes of the Commander of the King's\narmies, and the messenger of the King of Kings.\"\n\nI verily believe that she shamed them by her gentle friendliness\nmore than she would have done by any outburst of wrath. Had she\nurged them now, I am not sure but what they would have given her\nher way; but she did not. She put her white velvet cap, with its\nnodding plumes, upon her head, and taking with her the chiefest of\nthe generals and her own immediate retinue, she made the tour of\nthe walls and defences of the city, showing such a marvellous\ninsight into the tactics of war that she astonished all by her\nremarks and by her injunctions.\n\nSuddenly, as we were walking onwards, she paused and lifted her\nface with a wonderful rapt expression upon it. Then she turned to\nDunois, and said with quiet authority:\n\n\"Mon General, I must ask of you to take a small body of picked men,\nand ride forth towards Blois, and see what bechances there. I trow\nthere is trouble among the men. Traitors are at work to daunt their\nhearts. Go and say that the Maid bids them fear nothing, and that\nthey shall enter Orleans in safety. The English shall not be\nsuffered to touch them. Go at once!\"\n\n\"In broad daylight, lady, and before the very eyes of the foe?\"\n\n\"Yes, yes,\" she answered instantly; \"I will stand here and watch\nyou. No hurt shall be done to you or to your company.\"\n\nSo Dunois went at her command, and we saw him and his little band\nride fearlessly through the English lines; and scarce could we\nbelieve our eyes when we noted that no weapon was raised against\nthem; not even an arrow was shot off as they passed.\n\n\"She speaks the words of God. She is His messenger!\" whispered the\nmen who stood by; and her fame flew from mouth to mouth, till a\nstrange awe fell upon all.\n\nShe was never idle during those days of waiting. She asked news of\nthe letter she had sent to the English, and heard it had been\ndelivered duly, though the herald had not returned. She gave\ncommission to La Hire to demand his instant release, and this was\naccomplished speedily; for the bold captain, of his own initiative,\nvowed he would behead every prisoner they had in the city if the\nman were not given up at the command of the Maid. I am very sure no\nsuch act of summary vengeance would have been permitted, but the\nman was instantly released and came and told us how that the letter\nhad been read with shouts of insulting laughter, and many derisive\nanswers suggested; none of which, however, had been dispatched, as\nTalbot, the chief in command of the English armies, had finally\ndecreed that it became not his dignity to hold any parley with a\nwitch.\n\nAnd yet she could scarce believe that they should none of them\nunderstand how that she was indeed come from God, and that they\nmust be lamentably overthrown if they would not hear her words. On\nthe third day of her stay in the city she caused her great white\nbanner to be carried forth before her, and riding a white horse,\nclad in her silver armour, and clasping her banneret in her hand\nshe rode slowly out upon the broken fragment of the bridge opposite\nto the tower of Les Tourelles, and begged a parley from the English\ngeneral in command.\n\nIt was not Lord Talbot who came forth and stood upon his own end of\nthe bridge, gazing haughtily across the space which divided them;\nbut it was a notable soldier, whom the French called Classidas,\nthough I have been told that his real name was Sir William\nGlassdale. To him the Maid addressed herself in her clear mellow\nvoice, which could be heard across the flowing river:\n\n\"Retournez de la part Dieu a l'Angleterre!\" was the burden of her\ncharge, imploring him to have mercy upon himself and his soldiers,\nas else many hundreds of them, and himself also, must perish\nmiserably, and perchance even without the offices of the Church.\n\nBut she was answered by roars of mocking laughter from the soldiers\nof the fort, and worse still, by gross insults from Classidas\nhimself, hurled across at her from a biting tongue, which carried\nlike the note of a trumpet.\n\nSilently she stood and gazed at him; mournfully she turned and rode\nback to the town.\n\n\"May God have mercy upon their souls!\" she prayed; and for the rest\nof the day she was sorrowful and sad.\n\n\"If it could have been done without bloodshed!\" she murmured again\nand yet again.\n\nAh, and then the day when the news came that the relieving army was\nin sight! Was she sad or pensive then? No! She sprang to her feet;\nshe set down the little Charlotte, who was playing in her arms; she\nseized her weapons, her page flew to bring her full armour. Her\nhorse was already in waiting; she swung upon his back. She waved\nher hand and called to us to rally about her.\n\n\"The English are preparing to fight!\" she cried (how did she know?\nnone had told her), \"but follow me, and they will strike no blow.\"\n\nAlready La Hire was at her side, seeking to dissuade her from\nleaving the shelter of the town. She smiled at him, and rode\nthrough the gate, her white banner floating in the wind.\n\n\"See yonder; that is the point of danger. We will station ourselves\nthere, and watch our brave army march past. They shall not be hurt\nnor dismayed. All shall be well!\"\n\nSo we rode, wondering and amazed, behind and around her, and at the\nappointed spot, in the very midst of the English lines, we halted,\nand made a great avenue for the army from Blois to pass through.\nAll gazed in wonder at the Maid. All saluted deeply. The English in\ntheir towers gazed in amaze, but fired no shot. We all passed into\nthe city in safety.\n\nGreat God, but how would it be with our Maid when the real battle\nand bloodshed should begin?\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X. HOW THE MAID LED US INTO BATTLE.\n\n\n\"It was well indeed that you sent me forth on that mission, my\nChieftainess,\" spoke Dunois, as we sat at the long table in the\nTreasurer's house, refreshing ourselves after the fatigues of the\nmarch to and from the city, and the anxiety of awaiting an attack,\nwhich had not come. He bowed towards the Maid in speaking, calling\nher by a playful title in vogue amongst the officers and Generals\nwho were her friends. \"Though what prompted you to that act of\nsagacity is more than I know. I had no misgivings that there would\nbe trouble with the army.\"\n\n\"My voices warned me,\" answered the Maid gently. \"It was not much;\nyet a little leaven often leavens the whole lump. They needed just\nthe leader's eye and voice to recall them to their duty.\"\n\n\"Truly that is just how the matter stood,\" spoke Sir Guy in low\ntones to us twain, Bertram and I, who sat on either side of him at\nthe other end of the board.\n\nHe had been one to depart and return with Dunois, and we looked\neagerly to him for explanation.\n\n\"There are ever timid spirits in all ranks, and traitors or\nfaint-hearted friends are never far away in such times as these.\nThe army which would have followed the Maid to the death with joy,\nfelt depression and disappointment at being parted from her. Had\nthey been able to ford the river and march straight into the city,\nthere would have been no trouble, no tremors or doubts; but the\nturning back was a discouragement, and alas! the French have had\ntoo much of this of late. There were whisperers at work seeking to\nundermine faith in the Maid and her mission. As she says, no great\nhurt was done; it was but the work of a few--and some of these\npriests, who should better have understood the counsels of God--but\na little leaven will work mightily in the lump, as she herself did\njustly remark; and ere we reached Blois, we had heard rumours that\nthe army was talking of disbanding itself and dispersing hither and\nthither. The truth was not so bad as that; but there was wavering\nand doubt in the ranks.\n\n\"Our appearance with the message from the Maid worked like a charm.\nThe soldiers, when they knew that she had been told of their\nhesitation, were instantly horribly ashamed. They clamoured to be\nled back to her, to show the mettle of which they were made. I trow\nthey will not waver again, now that she hath them beneath her eye.\"\n\n\"It is marvellous how she doth hold them by the power of her\nglance, by her gentleness and devotion. And, look you, what hath\nshe done to the English? It was rumoured through the city that so\nsoon as the relief army approached the English lines, there would\nbe an attack in force, and our comrades would be driven back at the\nsword's point, and have to fight every inch of the way. Yet what\nhas been the truth? The Maid led us to the spot which commanded the\nroad--well in the heart of the English lines. Their fortresses were\nhumming like hives of bees disturbed. The English knew what was\nbeing done, and watched it all; yet not a gun was fired, not an\narcher launched his shaft, not a man moved out to oppose the\nentrance of the relief force nor even the convoy of provisions for\nthe garrison. They watched it all as men in a dream, not a dog\nmoved his tongue against us.\"\n\n\"She told us it would be so,\" spoke I, leaning towards Sir Guy,\n\"there will be fighting anon; but it was not to be then. Surely\ntheir arms were holden by a power they wot not of. If she herself\nhad not gone forth to guard the way--standing like the flaming\ncherubim with the sword which turned every way--I misdoubt me but\nthat a heavy action must have been fought, ere the army was\nsuffered to enter the gates.\"\n\nThere was much talk all down the table of these matters; but the\nMaid took little part in this. Her eyes were heavy, and she looked\nweary and pale. I doubt not she had spent the night previous in\nvigil and prayer, as was so often her wont. When we rose from our\nrepast, she retired into a small inner room reserved for her use,\nand the little Charlotte went with her. A curtain, partly drawn,\nshut off this room from the outer one in which we knights and some\nof her pages and gentlemen sat talking; and I was just able to see\nfrom where I sat that the Maid had laid herself down upon a couch,\nthe little one nestled beside her, and I felt sure by her stillness\nand immobility that she was soon soundly asleep, taking the rest\nshe sorely needed after the exertions and excitements of the early\nhours of the day.\n\nOur conversation languished somewhat, for the warmth of the May\nafternoon made us all drowsy. We, like the Maid herself, had laid\naside our coats of mail, and were enjoying a spell of rest and\nleisure; and there was silence in both the rooms, when suddenly\nwe--if indeed we slept--were awakened by the voice of the Maid\nspeaking in the tones of one who dreams.\n\n\"I must up and against the English!\" she cried, and at the first\nword I started broad awake and was on my feet at the door of\ncommunication, looking towards her.\n\nShe still lay upon the couch, but her eyes were wide open and\nfixed; her lips moved.\n\n\"I hear! I hear!\" she went on, yet still as one who dreams, \"I am\nready--I will obey. Only tell me what I must do. Is it against the\ntowers I must go, to assail them? Or is it that Fastolffe comes\nagainst us with yet another host?\"\n\nLittle Charlotte here pulled the Maid by the hand, crying out:\n\n\"What are you saying? To whom do you speak? There is nobody here\nbut you and me!\"\n\nThe Maid sprang to her feet, wide awake now in an instant. She bent\nfor one moment over the wondering child, and kissed her tenderly,\nas though to soothe the alarm in the baby eyes.\n\n\"Run to your mother, ma mie, for I must off and away on the\ninstant,\" then wheeling round with her air of martial command, she\ncalled to me and said, \"To arms at once! I must to the front!\nFrench blood is flowing. They are seeking to act without me. O my\npoor soldiers, they are falling and dying! To horse! to horse! I\ncome to save them!\"\n\nWas she dreaming? What did it mean? The town seemed as quiet as the\nstill summer afternoon! Not a sound of tumult broke the silence of\nthe streets. Yet the Maid was having us arm her with lightning\nspeed, and Bertrand had rushed off at the first word for her horse\nand ours.\n\n\"I know not what they are doing,\" spoke the Maid, \"but my voices\ntell me to fly to their succour! Ah! why could they not have told\nme before! Have I not ever been ready and longing to lead them\nagainst the foe?\"\n\nShe was ready now. We were all ready, and the echoes of the quiet\nhouse awoke beneath our feet as we clattered down the staircase to\nthe courtyard below, where already the horses were standing pawing\nthe ground with impatience, seeming to scent the battle from afar.\nThe Maid swung herself lightly to the saddle with scarce a touch\nfrom me.\n\n\"My banner! My banner!\" she suddenly cried; and looking upwards we\nsaw a pretty sight. The little Charlotte, her mother beside her,\nwas hanging out of the window, the light staff of the Maid's white\nbanneret clasped in her chubby hands; and she was leaning out of\nthe window, holding it towards the white mailed figure, of whom (in\narmour) she always spoke, in hushed tone, as mon ange. The Maid\nlooked upwards, kissed her gauntletted hand to the little one,\nseized the staff of her banner, and then, calling upon her\nfollowers in clear tones of command, dashed out through the gateway\ninto the street beyond, and without an instant's hesitation turned\ntowards that gate of the city nearest to the English bastille named\nSt. Loup. And though we all spurred after her, so that the sparks\nflew from under our horses' feet, and the Chevalier d'Aulon brought\nup the rear bearing the great white standard, which was to lead the\narmies into battle, we none of us knew wherefore we had come forth\nnor whither we were going; and the city being yet still and quiet,\nthe citizens rushed to doors and windows to watch us pass by, and\nshouted questions to us which we were not able to answer.\n\nNow, the house of the Treasurer is hard by the Renart Gate, and we\nwere making for the Burgundy Gate; so you who know Orleans will\nunderstand that we had the whole distance of the city to traverse\nere we cleared the walls. And sure enough, as we approached the\nfortifications upon the eastern side, a change came over the spirit\nof the scene; signs of excitement and fear and wonder began to show\nthemselves; the walls were alive with men at arms, gazing fixedly\nout eastward, shouting, gesticulating, wild with a tumult of\nemotion. Soldiers buckling on their arms, citizens with pale, yet\nresolute, faces, and swords or axes in their hands, were hurrying\nforth, and at sight of the Maid on her chestnut charger (for the\nCrusader was ever her favourite horse, and she had declared that he\nmust carry her into her first battle whenever that should be) they\nshouted aloud with joy, and vowed themselves her servants and\nfollowers, wherever she should lead them.\n\nA young blacksmith, armed with a great club, was hanging upon my\nstirrup, and bounding along beside my horse with a swiftness and\nstrength which excited my admiration. From him I heard first of the\nthing which had taken place.\n\n\"It was De Gamache and some of the other lesser officers who\ndesigned it,\" he cried. \"They declared that the power of the\nEnglish was already broken; that they would not leave their walls\nor show fight today; that already they had grown faint hearted, and\nwere ready to fly before the French.\n\n\"My Captain, I tell you the truth, these men are jealous of the\nAngelic Maid whom Heaven has sent us. They say that she will take\nfrom them all the honour and glory; that they will fight and risk\ntheir lives, but that she alone will have the praise. So they were\nfull of bitterness and anger; and some, methinks, may have thought\nto shame her by showing that they could act without her aid, and do\nthe work she has come to do, whilst she takes her rest and holds\nher councils. So, gathering a band of soldiers together, these\nofficers have sallied forth to try and storm and take the fortress\nof St. Loup, which lies some two thousand English yards from the\nwalls along the river banks. But the soldiers on the walls are\nshouting out that the English have swarmed forth like angry bees,\nand are beating back our soldiers and slaying them by the score.\"\n\n\"They should have known better than to go forth without the\nknowledge and command of the Maid,\" I said sternly, and the young\nman at my side nodded vehemently, his face alight.\n\n\"That is what we said--we others--we citizens, who have seen how\npowerless the soldiers are against the English. Have they not\nfought again and again, and what has come of it but loss and\ndefeat? And now that the good God has sent a Deliverer, it is like\nflying in His face to seek and do without her. I said as much again\nand again. I knew no good would come of it. But when we saw the\nMaid herself flying to the rescue, then did I vow that I, too,\nwould fight under her banner. For now I know that God will give us\nthe victory!\"\n\nWe were at the Burgundy Gate by this time and, dashing through, we\nsaw a terrible sight. The whole open plain between the walls of the\ntown and the fortress of St. Loup was covered with soldiers, strewn\nwith dying and dead. A horrible sort of fight was going on,\nhorrible to us, because the French were in full retreat before our\nfoe, going down like sheep before the butcher's knife, rushing\npanic stricken hither and thither as men demented, whilst the\nEnglish soldiers, as though ashamed of their recent inaction and\nparalysis, were fiercely pursuing, shouting \"Kill! kill! kill!\" as\nthey went about their work of slaughter, driving back their\nenemies, and striking at them remorselessly.\n\nHere and there a brave officer, with his band of chosen followers,\nwould be presenting a bold face to the foe, making a stand and\nseeking to rally the flying ranks. I was certain that I saw De\nGamache himself, hewing his way like a very Paladin through the\nranks of the English, and dealing death and destruction wherever he\nwent. But the valour of a few had no power to turn the fortunes of\nthe field; and the rout had already begun, when the Maid and her\nattendants, closely followed by an enthusiastic band of soldiers\nand citizens, dashed forth from the Burgundy Gate, and mingled with\nthe flying French hastening towards the city for safety.\n\n\"Courage, my children, courage!\" cried the Maid, waving her white\npennon. \"Be not dismayed. The Lord has heard your cries. He has\nsent me to your aid. Take courage! Fear nothing, for the victory\nshall be ours!\"\n\nShe did not even pause to note the effect of her words upon them,\nbut sped onwards, fearless of danger, right into the very heart of\nthe battle. We followed and closed up round her; but that shining\nwhite figure could not be hidden. The English saw it bearing down\nupon them, and instantly there was wavering in their ranks. Before\nour swords had had time to strike at them, something touched them\nas with an icy hand.\n\n\"The Maid! the Maid! The White Witch!\" they cried, and they paused\nin their pursuit to gaze upon that dazzling figure, and methinks\ntheir hearts melted like wax within them.\n\nFrom behind now arose a mighty tumult, and shouts and cries as of\ntriumph thundered from the city walls. Dunois and La Hire, more\ntardily advised of what was happening, but prompt and decisive in\naction, were galloping out of the Gate at the head of the picked\nsoldiers under their command. Rank behind rank we could see them\nflashing through the shadow into the sunshine, and dashing forward\nin compact order, their gaze fixed full upon the Maid in the centre\nof the plain, who stood with uplifted sword and fluttering pennon,\na veritable angel of the battle.\n\nBut we saw other sights, too; for Lord Talbot was not idle on his\nside, but sent forth from other of the bastilles bodies of men to\nthe aid of the defenders of St. Loup.\n\nThe whole plain was filled with surging masses of soldiers, rushing\none upon the other in the fury of the fray.\n\nHow would the Maid bear it? She whose tender heart ached at the\nthought of human suffering, and whose soul was filled with yearning\nsorrow for men struck down in their sins. I pressed up towards her\nand saw her pitiful eyes fixed upon a convoy of wounded men, whom\nwe had sent to rescue from their peril, lying as they did in the\nvery heart of the plain. The eyes which had been flashing fire a\nmoment before, were suffused with tears, as the melancholy\nprocession passed her by.\n\nShe turned to her page and said, \"Ride quickly into the city, and\nbid the priests come forth to hear the confessions and give\nabsolution to the dying. Lose not a moment! Tell them that souls\nare every moment being hurried to their last account. Bid them make\nhaste and come, and let them give equal care to friend and foe; for\nin death all men are equal in the sight of God, and I would not\nthat any English soldier or prisoner should fall without the\nconsolations of religion.\"\n\nThen, having thus done all that she could for the wounded and the\ndying, the Maid was once again the resolute soldier. Her keen eyes\nswept the plain; she saw with lightning speed where the need was\nthe greatest, where the peril to the French cause was direst, and\nsweeping into the midst of the press, her sword and her banner\nflashing in the sunshine, she ever brought succour and victory in\nher wake.\n\nNo foe could stand before her. Not that she struck blows with her\nown hand. There seemed no need for that, and when at the close of\nthe day I relieved her of her arms, there was no spot of blood upon\nher shining blade, though her coat of silver mail had received\nstains from the fray. She was like the Angel of Victory, flashing\nthrough the ranks of the combatants. Wherever she appeared, the\nflying French turned back to face the foe, and the pursuing English\nwavered, paused, and finally broke rank and fled backwards to the\nshelter of their walls and forts. Our men fought gallantly--let me\nnot deny them their due--soldiers and citizens alike, who had come\nforth with and after the Maid, all were inspired by confidence and\ncourage. But it was her presence in the ranks which gave assurance\nof victory. Wherever French soldiers wavered it was when she was\nfar away and her back towards them. Yet so soon as she turned in\ntheir direction--and some power seemed to whisper to her whenever\nher soldiers were dismayed--and galloped to their assistance, all\nwas well again; and ere an hour had passed the English were driven\nback within their towers, and the victory was ours.\n\nDunois and La Hire rode up to the Maid and saluted. From the city\nin our rear we could already hear the pealing of the joy bells, the\ntriumphant acclamation of the populace.\n\n\"Let us lead you back thither to receive the plaudits you have so\nwell deserved,\" spoke Dunois, who was man enough to give all the\ncredit of the victory to the Maid. \"Right valiantly have you\naccomplished your task. Now let us take you to receive the\ngratitude of the town.\"\n\n\"Accomplished!\" repeated the Maid with a glance of surprise. \"Why,\nmy friends, the task is scarcely yet begun!\"\n\nThey gazed at her in amazement; but she calmly pointed towards the\nfrowning walls and battlements of St. Loup.\n\n\"We must take yonder tower,\" she said quietly, \"that is what our\nbrave, but rash young officers set themselves to do. They shall not\nbe disappointed. It shall be ours ere night fall upon us. Call to\nme the bold De Gamache; I would have speech with him and his\ncomrades.\"\n\nThe greater Generals looked at her and at one another, speaking no\nword. The walls and battlements of St. Loup were strong and well\ndefended. The tower could spout fire and smoke like a living\nmonster. Already the troops had marched far and fought hotly.\nSurely if assault were to be made it should wait for another day.\nThus they communed together a stone's throw from the Maid; but she\nonly looked upon them with her deep inward smile, and softly I\nheard her speak the words:\n\n\"No, it must be done today.\"\n\nDe Gamache rode up, and some half dozen other officers with him.\nHis face was stained with blood and blackened by smoke. He had a\nscarf bound about his left arm; but his bearing was bold and\nresolute, and though his cheek flushed at the clear, direct gaze of\nthe Maid's eyes, he neither faltered nor trembled as he stood\nbefore her.\n\n\"You did desire a good thing, my Captain,\" she said, \"and had you\ntold me of your brave wish, I would have put myself at your head\nand led you to victory forthwith. Yet this victory has not been\nforfeited, only delayed by your eager rashness. Say, if I lead you\nmyself, this very hour, against yon frowning tower, will you follow\nme like brave soldiers of the Cross, and not turn back till my Lord\nhas given us the victory? For He will deliver yon place into our\nhands, albeit not without bloodshed, not without stress or strife.\nMany must be slain ere we can call it ours, but will you follow and\ntake it?\"\n\nThe shout which arose from a thousand throats rang to the welkin,\nand methinks must have smote with dread import upon the English\nears. The Maid's voice seemed to float through the air, and\npenetrate to the extreme limits of the crowd, or else her words\nwere taken up and repeated by a score of eager tongues, and so ran\nthrough the mighty muster with thrilling import. The eyes were\ndazzled by the flashing blades as men swung them above their heads.\n\n\"Lead us, O Maid, lead us! We follow to death or victory! We fear\nnothing so that you are our leader and our guide!\"\n\nThere was no withstanding a spirit like that! La Hire's voice was\none of the foremost in the cry; his great blade the first to leap\nfrom its scabbard. Sage counsels of war, prompted by experience,\nhad to give way before a power different from anything which the\nveterans had known before. With a dash, the elan of which was a\nmarvellous sight to see, the soldiers poured themselves like a\nliving stream against the walls of St. Loup. The English behind the\nfortifications rained upon them missiles of every description. The\nair was darkened by a cloud of arrows. The cannon from the walls\nbelched forth smoke and flame, and great stone and iron balls came\nhurtling down into our midst, dealing death and destruction. The\nEnglish soldiers with their characteristic daring sallied forth\nsword in hand to beat us back and yet we pressed on and ever on;\ndriven backwards here and there by stress of fighting; but never\ngiving great way, and always rallied by the sight of that gleaming\nwhite armour, and by the clear, sweet voice ringing out through all\nthe tumult of arms.\n\n\"Courage, my children, courage. The fight is fierce; but my Lord\ngives you the victory. A little more courage, a little more\npatience, and the day is ours!\"\n\nShe stood unscathed amid the hail of stones and arrows. Her clear\nglance never quailed; her sweet voice never faltered; she had\nthought for everyone but herself. Again and again with her own\nhands she snatched some follower from a danger unseen by him, but\nwhich a moment later would have been his death. She herself stood\nunmoved in the awful tumult. She even smiled when Dunois and La\nHire would have drawn her from the hottest of the fighting.\n\n\"No, no, my friends, my place is here. Have no fear. I shall not\nsuffer. I have guardians watching over me that you wot not of.\"\n\nAnd so she stood unmoved at the foot of the tower, till the\nEnglish, overcome with amaze, gave up the defence, and fled from a\nplace they believed must surely be bewitched.\n\nAnd as the last of the sunlight faded from the sky, the fortress of\nSt. Loup was ours. The Maid had fought her first battle, and had\ntriumphed.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI. HOW THE MAID BORE TRIUMPH AND TROUBLE.\n\n\nThe people of Orleans, and we her knights and followers, were\nwell-nigh wild with joy. I do not think I had ever doubted how she\nwould bear herself in battle; and yet my heart had sometimes\ntrembled at the thought of it. For, after all, speaking humanly,\nshe was but a girl, a gentle maid, loving and tender-hearted, to\nwhom the sight of suffering was always a sorrow and a pain. And to\npicture a young girl, who had perhaps never seen blows struck in\nanger in her life--save perchance in some village brawl--suddenly\nset in the midst of a battle, arms clashing, blood flowing, all the\nhideous din of warfare around her, exposed to all its fearful risks\nand perils--was it strange we should ask ourselves how she would\nbear it? Was it wonderful that her confidence and calmness and\nsteadfast courage under the trial should convince us, as never\nperhaps we had been convinced before, of the nearness of those\nsupernatural beings who guarded her so closely, who warned her of\ndanger, who inspired her with courage, and yet never robbed her for\none moment of the grace and beauty and crown of her pure womanhood?\n\nAnd so, whilst we were well-nigh mad with joy and triumph, whilst\njoy bells pealed from the city, and the soldiers and citizens were\nready to do her homage as a veritable saint from heaven, she was\njust her own quiet, thoughtful, retiring self. She put aside the\nplaudits of the Generals; she hushed the excited shouting of the\nsoldiers. She exercised her authority to check and stop the\ncarnage, to insist that quarter should be given to all who asked\nit, to see that the wounded upon both sides were carried into the\ncity to receive attention and care, and in particular that the\nprisoners--amongst whom were several priests--should receive humane\ntreatment, and escape any sort of insult or reprisal.\n\nThese matters occupied her time and thought to the exclusion of any\npersonal pride or triumph. It was with difficulty that the Generals\ncould persuade her to ride at their head into the city, to receive\nthe applause and joyful gratitude of the people; and as soon as she\ncould without discourtesy extricate herself from the crowd pressing\nround to kiss her hands or her feet, or even the horse upon which\nshe rode, she slipped away to give orders that certain badly\nwounded English prisoners were to be carried to the Treasurer's\nhouse, and laid in the spacious guest chamber, which, having been\nprepared for her own reception, had been permitted to no one else.\nHere she begged of Madame Boucher permission to lodge them, that\nshe might tend their hurts herself, and assure herself that all was\nwell with them.\n\nNo one could deny the Maid those things she asked, knowing well\nthat others in her place would have issued commands without\nstooping to petition. But with the Maid it was never so. Her gentle\ncourtesy never deserted her. No association with men, no military\ndignity of command, which she could so well assume, ever tarnished\nthe lustre of her sweet humility. A gentle maiden, full of\ntenderness and compassion, she showed herself now. Instead of\nresting after the sore strife of the battle, which had exhausted\neven strong men, nothing would serve her but that she must herself\ndress the wounds of these English prisoners; and so deft was her\ntouch, and so soft and tender her methods with them, that not a\ngroan passed the lips of any of them; they only watched her with\nwondering eyes of gratitude; and when she had left the room they\nlooked at each other and asked:\n\n\"Who is it? Is it boy, or angel, or what? The voice is as the voice\nof a woman, and the touch is as soft; but the dress is the dress of\na man. Who can it be?\"\n\nI understood them, for I knew something of the English tongue, and\nI saw that they were in great amazement; for all who had seen the\nMaid bore her image stamped upon their hearts; and yet it was\nimpossible for these prisoners of war to believe that the\ntriumphant, angelic Commander of the Forces could stoop to tend the\nhurts of wounded prisoners with her own hands.\n\n\"Gentlemen,\" I said, \"that is the Angelic Maid herself--she who has\nbeen sent of Heaven for the deliverance of France. I trow that you\nsoldiers and knights of England have called her witch, and\nthreatened to burn her if you can lay hands upon her. Perchance now\nthat you have seen her thus face to face, your thoughts towards her\nwill somewhat change.\"\n\nThey gazed at me and at one another in amaze. They broke into\nquestions, eager and full of curiosity. When I had answered them\nthey were ready to tell me what was spoken of her in the English\nranks; all averred that some strange power seemed to fall upon them\nwith the advent of the Maid into the city--a power that withheld\nthem from sallying forth to hinder her coming, or that of the\nrelieving army.\n\n\"We had meant to fight her to the death,\" spoke one English knight.\n\"I was in counsel with the Generals when it was so proposed; and\nyet more resolved were we to keep out the army from Blois, which we\nheard must needs pass straight through our lines--an easy prey, we\nsaid, to our gunners, archers and swordsmen. All was in readiness\nfor the attack--and yet no word was ever given. No trumpet sounded,\nthough the men were drawn up ready. We all stood to arms; but the\nsight of that dazzling white figure seemed to close the lips of our\ncommanders, to numb the limbs of our soldiers. I can say no more.\nWhen the chance was gone--the hour passed--we gazed into each\nother's face as men awaking from a dream. We cursed ourselves. We\ncursed the witch who had bound us by her spells. We vowed to redeem\nand revenge ourselves another day. And when we saw the French\nissuing forward to the attack scarce two hours after the entry of\nthe relieving army, and there was no white figure with them, then\nindeed did we tell ourselves that our time was come; and we thought\nto win a speedy victory over the men who had so often fled before\nus. Yet you know how the day did end. The Maid came--victory rode\nbeside her! Nought we could do availed when she appeared. I had\nthought to be left to die upon the battlefield, but behold I am\nhere, and she has dressed my wounds with her own hands! It is\nwonderful! Past belief! Tell me who and what is she? A creature of\nearth or of heaven?\"\n\nI had already told him all I knew; but they were never tired of\nhearing the story of the Maid; and as I, at her request, watched\nbeside them during the night, ministering to their wants, and doing\nwhat I was able to relieve their pain, I found that nothing so\nhelped them to forget the smart of their wounds as the narration of\nall the wonderful words and deeds of this Heavenly Deliverer of\nFrance.\n\nThey were frank enough on their side also, and told me much of the\ndisposition of their forces, and how that they were expecting a\nstrong army to join them quickly, headed by Sir John Fastolffe, a\nnotable knight, whose name we well knew, and had trembled before\nere this. They admitted that their ranks were somewhat thinned by\ndisease and death, and that they had scarce sufficient force both\nto maintain all the bastilles erected on the north side of the\nriver and also to hold the great forts of Les Tourelles and Les\nAugustins on the south; but that when the reinforcements should\narrive all would be well, and but for the marvellous power of the\nMaid, they would have felt no doubt whatever as to the speedy\nreduction of the city either by assault or blockade.\n\nWith the first golden shafts of sunlight came the Maid once more,\nlittle Charlotte beside her, both bearing in their hands such\ncooling drinks and light sustenance as the condition of the wounded\nmen required. The Maid wore the white, silver embroidered tunic and\nsilken hose which Queen Yolande had provided for her indoor dress;\nshe carried no arms, and her clustering curls framed her lovely\nface like a nimbus. All eyes were fixed upon her as upon a vision,\nand as she bent over each wounded man in turn, asking him of his\nwelfare and holding a cup to his lips, I could see the amazement\ndeepening in their eyes; and I am sure that they were well-nigh\nready to worship the ground upon which she trod, so deep was the\nimpression made upon them by her beauty and her gentle treatment.\n\nWhen she left the room I followed her at her sign, and asked:\n\n\"Then you go not forth to battle today, General?\"\n\n\"Nay,\" she replied, \"for today the Church keeps the blessed Feast\nof the Ascension; which should be to all a day of peace and\nthanksgiving and holy joy. I am going forthwith to hear Mass and\nreceive the Holy Sacrament; and I would have my faithful knights\nabout me. Let us forget warfare and strife for this day.\"\n\nHer own face was transfigured as she spoke. The light shone upon it\nall the time that she knelt before the high altar in the Cathedral,\nrapt in a mystery of thanksgiving and heavenly joy. O how real it\nall was to her--those things which were to us articles of faith,\ngrounds of hope, yet matters which seemed too far above us to\narouse that personal rapture which was shining from the eyes and\nirradiating the whole face of the Maid.\n\nIt was a beautiful beginning to the day; and all the early hours\nwere spent by the Maid in meditation and prayer within the walls of\nthe Cathedral, where the people flocked, as perhaps they had never\ndone before, to give thanks for the mercies received with the\nadvent of the Maid, and to gaze upon her, as she knelt in a trance\nof rapture and devotion in her appointed place not far from the\naltar. We, her knights, went to and fro, some of us always near to\nher, that the crowd might not too curiously press upon her when she\nwent forth, or disturb her devotions by too close an approach.\n\nI noted that none of the Generals appeared or took part in the acts\nof devotion that day. And as I issued forth into the sunny street\nat the close of the High Mass, Bertrand met me with a look of\ntrouble and anger on his face.\n\n\"They are all sitting in council of war together,\" he said, \"and\nthey have not even told her of it, nor suffered her to join them!\nHow can they treat her so--even Dunois and La Hire--when they have\nseen again and yet again how futile are all plans made by their\nskill without the sanction of her voice? It makes my gorge rise! Do\nthey think her a mere beautiful image, to ride before them and\ncarry a white banner to affright the foe? It is a shame, a shame,\nthat they should treat her so, after all that they have seen and\nheard!\"\n\nI was as wroth as Bertrand, and as full of surprise. Even now,\nlooking back after all these years, the blindness of these men of\nwar astonishes and exasperates me. They had seen with their own\neyes what the Maid could accomplish; again and again she had proved\nherself the abler in counsel as in fight; and yet they now\ndeliberately desired to set her aside from their councils, and only\ninform her of their decisions when made, and permit her to take a\nshare in the fighting they had planned.\n\nBertrand was furiously angry. He led me up into a lofty turret\nwhich commanded a bird's-eye view of the whole city and its\nenvirons, and he pointed out that which the Maid had declared she\nwould straightway do, so soon as the Feast of the Ascension was\nover, and how the Generals were about to follow a quite different\ncourse.\n\nOrleans, as all men know, lies upon the right--the north--bank of\nthe Loire, and the country to the north was then altogether in the\npower of the English; wherefore they had built their great\nbastilles around the city upon that side without molestation, and\nwere able to receive supplies from their countrymen without let or\nhindrance.\n\nBut these bastilles were not the chiefest danger to the city, or\nrather I should say, it was not these which were the chiefest cause\nof peril, since no help could reach the garrison from that side.\nThey looked to the country to the south to help them, and it was to\nstop supplies from reaching them by water or from the south that\nthe English had long since crossed the river and had established\nthemselves in certain forts along the south bank. Of these, St.\nJean le Blanc was one; but by far the most important and dangerous\nto the city were the two great towers commanding the bridge, whose\nnames I have given before. Let me explain how these great\nfortifications stood.\n\nLes Augustins had once been a convent, and it stood on the south\nbank, very near to the end of the bridge, guarding it securely from\nattack, and commanding the waterway and the approach to the city.\nLes Tourelles was an even stronger tower, constructed upon the very\nbridge itself, and menacing the town in formidable fashion. Dunois\nhad broken down the main portion of the bridge on the north side to\nprevent the advance into the city of the English from their tower;\nso it stood grimly isolated from either bank; for the permanent\nbridge at the south end had been destroyed to be replaced by a\ndrawbridge which could rise or fall at will.\n\nAnd it was these towers of Les Augustins and Les Tourelles which\nhad reduced the city to such straits by hindering the entrance of\nfood supplies. Moreover, from Les Tourelles great stone cannon\nballs had been hurled into the city in vast numbers, battering down\nwalls and doing untold damage to buildings and their inhabitants.\n\nNow it was evident to all that these fortresses must be taken if\nthe city were to be relieved and the siege raised. But the Maid,\nwith her far-seeing eyes, had decreed that first the bastilles upon\nthe north bank should be attacked and destroyed; and it was easy to\nfollow her reasoning; \"For,\" she said, \"when the English are\nfiercely attacked there, they will, without doubt, yield up these\nlesser fortresses without a great struggle, concentrating\nthemselves in force upon the left bank, where they think to do us\nmost hurt. We shall then destroy their bastilles, so that they will\nhave no place of shelter to fly back to; and then we shall fall\nupon them hip and thigh on the south side, and drive them before us\nas chaff before the wind. They must needs then disperse themselves\naltogether, having no more cover to hide themselves in; so will the\nenemies of the Lord be dispersed, and the siege of Orleans be\nraised.\"\n\nThis was the plan she had confided to her own immediate attendants\nand staff the previous evening, and which Bertrand repeated to me,\ngazing over the ramparts, and pointing out each fortress and\nbastion as it was named. But now the Generals in Council, without\nreference to the Maid, had decreed something altogether different.\nWhat they desired to do was not to make any real or vigorous attack\nupon any of the English forts, but to feign an assault upon the\ntowers on the south bank, and whilst the attention of the foe was\nthus engaged, get great quantifies of stores--all lying in\nreadiness at hand--into the city, enough to last for a long while,\nand then quietly sit down behind the strong walls, and tire out the\nEnglish, forcing them thus to retreat of their own accord!\n\nThink of it! After all that had been promised, all that had been\nperformed! To be content to shut ourselves in a well-provisioned\ntown, and just weary out the patience of the foe! And, moreover, of\na foe who expected daily reinforcements from the north, and who\nwould be quite capable of exercising as much patience, and perhaps\nmore daring than ourselves.\n\nEven now my blood boils at the thought, and I find it hard to\nconceive how such men as Dunois and La Hire let themselves be led\nfrom their allegiance and confidence in the Maid to listen to such\ncounsel as this from her detractors, and those many lesser\ncommanders who were sorely jealous of her success and influence.\nBut so it was, not once nor twice, but again and again; though in\naction they were staunch to her, would follow her everywhere, rally\nround her standard, fly to her defence when danger threatened, and\nshow themselves gallant soldiers and generous-hearted men, never\ndenying her all her share of praise and honour. But when sitting in\nthe council room, surrounded by officers and men of experience in\nwar disposed to scorn the counsels of an unlettered girl, and scoff\nat her pretensions to military rule, they were invariably led away\nand overborne, agreeing to act without her sanction, or even\ncontrary to her advice, notwithstanding their belief in her\nmission, and their trust in her power as a leader.\n\nThe shades of evening had fallen in the Treasurer's house before\nword was brought to the Maid of the decision of the Generals in\nCouncil. We were sitting around her after supper; and she had\nfallen into a very thoughtful mood. The Chevalier d'Aulon had been\ncalled away, and now returned with a troubled face. He stood just\nwithin the doorway, as though half afraid to advance. The Maid\nlifted her eyes to his and smiled.\n\n\"Do not fear to tell me your news, my kind friend. I know that your\nfaithful heart is sore at the dishonour done to me; but let us not\njudge harshly. It is hard for men full of courage and fleshly power\nto understand how the Lord works with such humble instruments.\nPerchance, in their place, we should not be greatly different.\n\n\"So they have refused my plan, and made one of their own. We are to\nattack the foe upon the south? Is that agreed? And even so not with\nall our heart and strength?\"\n\nD'Aulon recoiled a step in amaze.\n\n\"Madame, that is indeed so--a feint upon the south bank has been\ndecreed, whilst provisions are thrown into the city--\"\n\n\"Yes, yes, I know. Well, so be it. We will attack on the south\nbank. It must have come sooner or later, and if we fight with a\nwill, the Lord will be with us and uphold our cause. But, my\nfriends, understand this, and let the men likewise understand it.\nThere shall be no mockery of fighting. It shall be true and\ndesperate warfare. Let the Generals decree what they will, the Maid\nwill lead her soldiers to victory! Tomorrow Les Augustins shall be\nours; upon the next day Les Tourelles shall fall--\" she paused\nsuddenly and turned towards Bertrand.\n\n\"What day will that be--the day after to-morrow?\"\n\n\"The seventh day of May,\" he answered at once.\n\n\"Ah!\" she said, \"then it will be on that day--the day which shall\nsee Orleans relieved--the power of the English broken.\"\n\nShe spoke dreamily, and only Madame Boucher, who sat in the shadows\nwith her child upon her lap, ventured to ask of her:\n\n\"What will be on that day, gentle Jeanne?\"\n\n\"That I shall be wounded,\" she answered quietly.\n\n\"Did I not tell you long since,\" turning to Bertrand and me, \"that\nI should not come unscathed through the assault; but that on a\ncertain day I should receive a wound?\"\n\nI pulled out my tablets, upon which I often recorded the sayings of\nthe Maid, and sure enough there it was written down as she said. We\nfelt a great burning revolt at the thought of any hurt befalling\nher, and somebody spoke vehemently, saying that the holy Saints\nwould surely protect her from harm. But she lifted her hand with\nher gentle authority of gesture, and spoke:\n\n\"Nay, my kind friends, but thus it must needs be; nor would I have\nit otherwise. Listen, and I will tell you all. I often had my days\nand hours of fear because this great work was put upon one so weak\nand ignorant as I, and it was long before I clearly understood that\nI was but the instrument in a mighty Hand, and that power for all\nwould be given me. Then my fear left and great joy came; perhaps\neven some pride and haughtiness of spirit in that I had been chosen\nfor such a task.\n\n\"And then it was that my voices asked of me: 'Jeanne, hast thou no\nfear?'\n\n\"And I answered without pause, 'I fear nothing now.'\n\n\"Then St. Catherine herself suddenly appeared to me in a great\nwhite light and said: 'Child, thou art highly favoured of heaven;\nbut the flesh is easily puffed up. And for this cause, and because\nit may be well that thou thyself and all men shall know that thou\nart but human flesh and blood, thou shalt not escape unscathed in\nwarfare; but thou too shalt feel the sting of fiery dart, and know\nthe scald of flowing blood.'\n\n\"I bowed my head and made answer I would bear whatever my Lord\nthought fit to lay upon me; and I asked if I might know when this\nthing would happen. It was not told me then; but later it was\nrevealed to me; and I know that upon the seventh day of May I shall\nbe wounded--\" and she touched her right shoulder as she spoke, just\nbelow the neck.\n\n\"But what matter will that be, when the siege of Orleans shall be\nraised?\"\n\nHer face was aglow; nothing could touch her joy, not the insults of\nthe proud Generals, nor the knowledge of coming pain for herself.\nHer thought was all of the mission entrusted to her; and so, though\nthwarted and set aside, she showed no petty anger, dreamed not of\nany paltry vengeance such as others might have dealt the soldiers,\nby refusing to march with them on the morrow. Oh, no; hurt she\nmight be--indeed we knew she was--her pain being for the dishonour\ndone her Lord in this disrespect of His messenger; but no thought\nof reprisal entered her head. She rose from her seat, and lifted\nthe little Charlotte in her strong young arms.\n\n\"Gentlemen, let us early to rest,\" she said, holding her head\nproudly, \"for tomorrow a great work shall be done, and we must all\nhave our share in it.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII. HOW THE MAID RAISED THE SIEGE.\n\n\nTo tell the tale of how Les Augustins was taken is but to tell\nagain the tale of St Loup.\n\nI know not precisely what instructions the lesser officers\nreceived, nor what they told their men. But whether from\npreconcerted arrangement that the attack was only to be a feint, or\nwhether from the dash and energy of the English, it appeared at\nfirst as though the tide of war was rolling back in its old track,\nand that the prowess of the English as destined to win the day.\n\nFor one thing the assault was commenced before the Maid had crossed\nthe river and could put herself at the head of the men. A large\nbody of troops had been transported to the south side in boats\nduring the night, under cover of darkness; and this was all very\nwell; but they should have waited hen daylight came for the Maid to\nmarch at their head, instead of which they sought to rush the\nfortress before ever she had appeared at all; and when we arrived\nat the river's bank, it was to see a furious battle raging round\nthe base of Les Augustins, and ere we were half across the river,\nwe saw only too plainly that the French were being badly beaten,\nwere fleeing in all directions from the pursuing foe, and were\nmaking for the river bank once more as fast as their legs could\ncarry them.\n\nThe Maid watched it all, with that strange, inscrutable look upon\nher face, and that battle light in her eyes which we were all\nlearning to know. She was sitting upon her horse; for though a\nnumber of animals had been taken across in the night, no horse of\nhers had been so conducted, and we had led the creature with its\nrider into the great flat-bottomed boat; so that she was on a\nhigher level than the rest of us, and could better see what was\npassing, though it was plain to all that our soldiers were getting\nbadly beaten.\n\n\"O foolish children, silly sheep!\" murmured the Maid as she\nwatched, \"and yet you are not to blame, but those who lead you.\nWhen will they understand? When will they believe?\"\n\nWe reached the shore, and the Maid, without waiting for any of us\nto mount or form a bodyguard round her, leaped her horse to the\nbank, and charged up it, her pennon flying, her eyes alight with\nthe greatness of her purpose.\n\nBut even as she climbed the slippery bank, a great rush of flying\nsoldiers met her, and by their sheer weight forced back horse and\nrider almost to the river's brink before they were aware who or\nwhat it was.\n\nThen her silver trumpet voice rang out. She called upon them to\nreform, to follow her. She cried that her Lord would give them the\nvictory, and almost before we who had accompanied her had formed\ninto rank for the charge, the flying, panic-stricken men from the\nfront, ashamed and filled with fresh ardour, had turned themselves\nabout, closed up their scattered ranks, and were ready to follow\nher whithersoever she might lead them.\n\nYet it was to no speedy victory she urged them. No angel with a\nflaming sword came forth to fight and overcome as by a miracle. But\nit was enough for that white-clad figure to stand revealed in the\nthickest of the carnage to animate the men to heroic effort. As I\nsay, it was the story of St. Loup over again; but if anything the\nfighting was more severe. What the Generals had meant for a mere\nfeint, the Maid turned into a desperate battle. The English were\nreinforced many times; it seemed as though we had a hopeless task\nbefore us. But confidence and assurance of victory were in our\nhearts as we saw our Deliverer stand in the thick of the fight and\nheard her clarion voice ringing over the field. Ere the shades of\nnight fell, not only was Les Augustins ours, but its stores of food\nand ammunition had been safely transported into the city, and the\nplace so destroyed and dismantled that never again could it be a\nsource of peril to the town.\n\nAnd now the Maid's eyes were fixed full upon the frowning bulk of\nLes Tourelles, rising grim and black against the darkening sky,\nwith its little \"tower of the Boulevard,\" on this side the\ndrawbridge. Thither had the whole English force retired--all who\nwere not lying dead or desperately wounded on the plain or round\nthe gutted tower of Les Augustins--we saw their threatening faces\nlooking down fiercely upon us, and heard the angry voices from the\nwalls, heaping abuse and curses upon the \"White Witch,\" who had\nwrought them this evil.\n\n\"Would that we could attack at once!\" spoke the Maid. \"Would that\nthe sun would stay his course! Truly I do believe that we should\ncarry all before us!\"\n\nThe leaders came up to praise and glorify her prowess. They heard\nher words, but answered how that the men must needs have a night's\nrest ere they tried this second great feat of arms. But, they\nadded, there should be no going back into the city, no delay on the\nmorrow in crossing the river.\n\nIt was a warm summer-like night. Provisions were abundant, shelter\ncould be obtained beneath the walls of the captured citadel. They,\nwith the bulk of the army, would remain on the south bank for the\nnonce, and the Maid should return to the city with the convoys of\nwounded, to spend a quiet night there, returning with the dawn of\nthe morrow to renew the attack and take Les Tourelles.\n\nThus they spoke, and spoke suavely and courteously. But I did note\na strange look in the eyes of the Maid; and I wondered why it was\nthat Dunois, the speaker, grew red and stumbled over his words,\nwhilst that La Hire, who had done a giant's work in the fighting\nthat day, ground his teeth and looked both ashamed and disturbed.\n\nThe Maid stood a brief while as though in doubt. But then she made\nquiet reply:\n\n\"Then, gentlemen, it shall be as you will. I will return to the\ncity for the night. But with the dawn of day I will be here, and\nLes Tourelles shall be ours. The siege of Orleans shall be raised!\"\n\nThey bowed low to her; every one of them made obeisance. Yet was\nthere something ironical in the very humility of some? I could not\ntell; yet my heart burned within me as I followed our mistress; and\nnever had I known her so silent as she was upon our journey back,\nor as we sat at supper, the rest of us telling of the day's doings,\nbut the Maid speechless, save when she bent her head to answer some\neager question of little Charlotte's, or to smile at her childish\nprattle.\n\nSuddenly the door was flung open, and Sir Guy strode in with a face\nlike a thundercloud. Behind him came a messenger sent by the\nGenerals to the Maid, and this was the news he brought:\n\nThere had been a council held after dark, and it was then\nunanimously agreed that all now had been done that was necessary.\nThe city was provisioned, the power of the English had been greatly\nweakened and broken. The army would now be content with the triumphs\nalready won, and would quietly await further reinforcements before\ntaking any fresh step.\n\nThe man who brought this message faltered as he delivered it. The\nMaid sat very still and quiet, her head lifted in a dignified but\nmost expressive disdain.\n\n\"Monsieur,\" she replied, when the envoy ceased speaking, \"go back\nto those who sent you. Tell them that they have had their council\nand I have had mine. I leave the city at dawn as I have said. I\nreturn not to it till the siege has been raised.\"\n\nThe man bowed and retired confusedly. The Maid lifted the little\nchild in her arms, as was her wont, to carry her to bed. She turned\nto her chaplain as she did so:\n\n\"Come to me at dawn, my father, to hear my confession; and I pray\nyou accompany me upon the morrow; for my blood will be shed. But do\nnot weep or fear for me, my friends, nor spread any banquet for me\nere I start forth upon the morrow; but keep all for my return in\nthe evening, when I will come to you by the bridge.\"\n\nShe was gone as she spoke, and we gazed at her and each other in\namaze; for how could she come back by a bridge which had been\ndestroyed, and how did she brook such slights as were heaped upon\nher without showing anger and hurt pride?\n\n\"And there is worse yet to come!\" cried Sir Guy in a fury of rage,\n\"for I lingered behind to hear and see. If you will believe it,\nthere are numbers and numbers of the lesser officers who would\ndesire that the Maid should now be told that her work is done, and\nthat she can retire to her home in Domremy; that the King will come\nhimself with another reinforcing army to raise the siege, so that\nthey may get rid of her, and take the glory to themselves whenever\nthe place shall be truly relieved. Could you believe such folly,\nsuch treachery?\"\n\nWe could not; we could scarce believe our ears, and right glad was\nI to hear how that La Hire had had no part in this shameful\ncouncil; and I hope that Dunois had not either, though I fear me he\nwas less staunch.\n\nLa Hire had returned to the city to seek to infuse into the\ncitizens some of the spirit of the Maid. He was always for bold\nattack, and would be ready on the morrow, we did not doubt, for\nwhatever might betide.\n\nIt was little after dawn when we rode forth, the Maid in her white\narmour at our head, carrying her small pennon, whilst D'Aulon bore\nthe great white standard close behind. Her face was pale and rapt.\nNone of us spoke to her, and Pasquerel, her good chaplain, rode\nbehind telling his beads as he went.\n\nWe reached the Burgundy Gate; and behold it was fast shut. At the\nportal stood De Gaucourt, a notable warrior, with a grim look about\nhis mouth. The Maid saluted him courteously, and quietly bid him\nopen the gate. But he budged not an inch.\n\n\"Madam,\" he said, \"I have my commands from the Generals of the\narmy. The gate is to remain shut. No one is to be suffered to pass\nforth today.\"\n\nWe understood in a moment. This was a ruse to trap the Maid within\nthe city walls. Our hands were upon the hilts of our swords. At a\nword from her, they would have flashed forth, and De Gaucourt would\nhave been a dead man had he sought to hinder us in the opening of\nthe gate. But the Maid read our purpose in our eyes and in our\ngestures, and she stayed us by her lifted hand.\n\n\"Not so, my friends,\" she answered gravely, \"but the Chevalier de\nGaucourt will himself order the opening of the gate. I have to ride\nthrough it and at once. My Lord bids it!\"\n\nHer eyes flashed full and suddenly upon him. We saw him quiver from\nhead to foot. With his own hands he unlocked the gate, and it\nseemed to swing of its own accord wide open before us. The Maid\nbent her head in gracious acknowledgment, swept through and was off\nto the river like a flash of white lightning.\n\nThe river lay golden in the glory of the morning. The boats which\nhad transported us across last night bore us bravely over now. I\nknow not how the Generals felt when they saw the Maid, a dazzling\nvision of brightness, her great white standard close behind, her\nphalanx of knights and gentlemen in attendance, gallop up to the\nscene of action, from which they thought they had successfully\nbanished her. I only know that from the throats of the soldiers\nthere arose a deafening shout of welcome. They at least believed in\nher. They looked to her as to none else. They would follow her\nunwaveringly, when no other commander could make them budge.\n\nA yell that rent the very firmament went up at sight of her, and\nevery man seized his arms and sprang to his post, as though\ninspired by the very genius of victory.\n\n\"Courage, my children, forward! The day shall be ours!\" she cried,\nas she took her place at the head of the formidable charge against\nthe walls which frowned and bristled with the pikes and arrows of\nthe English. Her voice, like a silver clarion, rang clear through\nthe din of the furious battle which followed:\n\n\"Bon coeur, bonne esperance, mes enfants, the hour of victory is at\nhand! De la part de Dieu! De la part de Dieu!\"\n\nThat was her favourite battle cry! It was God who should give the\nvictory.\n\nBut it was no easy victory we were to win that day. The English\nfought with the energy of despair. They knew as well as we that\nwhen Les Tourelles fell the siege would be raised. True they had\ntheir bastilles upon the north side of the river to fall back upon,\nsince the Maid's counsel of destruction had not been followed. But\nonce dislodged from the south bank, and Orleans would lie open to\nthe support of her friends in the south, and the position of the\nEnglish army would be one of dire peril. For now the French were no\nmore cowed by craven fear of the power of their enemies. They had\nfound them capable of defeat and overthrow; the spell was broken.\nAnd it was the Maid who had done it!\n\nOh, how we fought around her that day! She was on foot now, for the\nbanks of the moat were slippery, and the press around the walls was\ntoo great to admit easily of the tactics of horsemen. I never saw\nher strike at any foe. It was her pennon rather than her sword in\nwhich she trusted. Here was the rallying point for the bravest and\nmost desperate of the assailants, ever in the thickest of the\nstrife, ever pointing the way to victory.\n\nIt was the tower of the Boulevard against which we were directing\nour attack. If that fell, Les Tourelles itself must needs follow,\nisolated as it would then be in the midst of the river. We did not\nknow it then, but we were to learn later, that La Hire in the city\nwith a great band of citizens and soldiers to help him, was already\nhard at work constructing a bridge which should carry him and his\nmen across to Les Tourelles, to take the English in the rear,\nwhilst their attention was concentrated upon our work on the other\nside.\n\nNo wonder that the clash and din was something deafening, that the\nboom of the great cannon ceased not; smoke and fire seemed to\nenvelop the walls of the towers; the air was darkened by clouds of\narrows; great stones came crashing into our midst. Men fell on\nevery side; we had much ado to press on without treading under foot\nthe dead and dying; but the white pennon fluttered before us, and\nfoot by foot we crept up towards the base of the tower.\n\nVictory! Victory! was the cry of our hearts. We were close to the\nwalls now--the Maid had seized a ladder, and with her own hands was\nsetting it in position, when--O woe! woe!--a great cloth-yard shaft\nfrom an English bow, tipped with iron and winged with an eagle's\nplume, struck upon that white armour with such crashing force that\na rent was made in its shining surface, and the Maid was borne to\nthe ground.\n\nOh, the terrible fear of that moment! The yell of triumph and joy\nwhich arose from the walls of the fortress seemed to turn my blood\ninto liquid fire.\n\nThe English had seen the fall of our champion. They shouted like\nmen drunk with victory! They knew well enough that were she dead,\nthey would drive back the French as sheep are driven by wolves.\n\nI had been close beside the Maid for hours; for I never forgot what\nshe had spoken about being wounded that day; yet when she fell I\nhad been parted from her a brief space, by one of those battle\nwaves too strong for resistance. But now I fought my way to her\nside with irresistible fury, though there was such a struggling\npress all about her that I had much ado to force my way through it.\nBut I was known as one of her especial personal attendants, and way\nwas made for me somehow; yet it was not I who was the first to\nrender her assistance.\n\nWhen I arrived, De Gamache was holding her in his arms; someone had\nremoved her headpiece, and though her face was as white as the\nsnowy plumes, her eyes were open, and there was a faint brave smile\nupon her lips. De Gamache had his horse beside him, his arm slipped\nthrough the reins.\n\n\"My brave General,\" he said, as the Maid looked in his face, \"let\nme lift you to my saddle and convey you to a place of safety. I\nhave done you wrong before; but I pray you forgive me, and bear no\nmalice; for I am yours till death. Never was woman so brave.\"\n\n\"I should be wrong indeed to bear malice against any, my good\nfriend,\" spoke the Maid, in her gentle tones, \"above all against\none so courteous, so brave.\"\n\nWe lifted her upon the horse. We formed a bodyguard round her. We\ndrew her out of the thick of the press, for once unresisting; and\nwe laid her down in a little adjacent vineyard, where the good\nPasquerel came instantly, and knelt beside her offering prayers for\nher recovery. But the great arrow had pierced right through her\nshoulder, and stood out a handbreadth upon the other side. We had\nsent for a surgeon; but we dreaded to think of the pain she must\nsuffer; must be suffering even now. Her face was white; her brow\nwas furrowed.\n\nBut suddenly, as we stood looking at her in dismay, she sat up,\ntook firm hold of the cruel barb with her own hands, and drew it\nsteadily from the wound.\n\nWas ever courage like hers? As the blood came gushing forth,\nstaining her white armour red, she uttered a little cry and her\nlips grew pale. Yet I think the cry was less from pain than to see\nthe marring of her shining breastplate; and the tears started to\nher eyes. Never before had this suffered hurt; the sight of the\nenvious rent hurt her, I trow, as much as did the smart of her\nwound.\n\nThe surgeon came hurrying up, and dressed the wound with a pledget\nof linen steeped in oil; and the Maid lay very white and still,\nalmost like one dying or dead, so that we all held our breath in\nfear. In sooth, the faintness was deathlike for awhile, and she did\nbeckon to her priest to come close to her and receive her\nconfession, whilst we formed round her in a circle, keeping off all\nidle gazers, and standing facing away from her, with bent,\nuncovered heads.\n\nWas it possible that her Lord was about to take her from us, her\ntask yet unfulfilled? It was hard to believe it, and yet we could\nnot but fear; wherefore our hearts were heavy within us during that\nlong hour which followed.\n\nAnd the battle? It was raging still, but the heart of it seemed to\nbe lacking. The English were crying out that the White Witch was\ndead, taunting their foes with being led by a woman, and asking\nthem where she was gone to now.\n\nDunois came hurrying up for news of her. The Maid roused herself\nand beckoned to him to come to her where she lay, and asked him of\nthe battle. Dunois told her that the courage of the men seemed\nfailing, that he thought of sounding the retreat.\n\nFor a few moments she lay still; her eyes bent full upon the\nblinding blue of the sunny sky. Then she spoke:\n\n\"Sound no retreat, my General,\" she spoke, \"but give the men a\nbreathing space. Let them draw off for a brief moment. Let them eat\nand drink and refresh themselves. Tell them that I will come to\nthem again; and when you and they see my standard floating against\nthe wall, then know by that token that the place is yours.\"\n\nDunois went his way, and soon the sound of the struggle ceased.\nThere came a strange hush in the heat of the noontide hours. The\nMaid lay still a while longer; then raising herself, asked that\nwater should be brought to cleanse away all stains from her hands\nand face and her white armour.\n\nThat being done she called to D'Aulon and said to him:\n\n\"Take the great standard; plant it again upon the edge of the moat;\nand when the silken folds touch the tower wall, call and tell me;\nand you, my knights and gentlemen, be ready to follow me to\nvictory!\"\n\nDid we doubt her ability, wounded as she was, to lead us? Not one\nwhit. We looked to our arms; we stood silently beside her. We\nwatched D'Aulon move quietly forward to the appointed place, and\nunfold the great white banner, which hung down limply in the sultry\nheat of the May afternoon. He stood there, and we stood beside the\nMaid a great while; she lay upon the heap of cloaks which had been\nspread to form a couch for her; her hands were clasped and her eyes\nclosed as though in prayer.\n\nThen a little puff of wind arose, followed by another, and yet\nanother--soft, warm wind, but we saw the folds of the banner begin\nto unfurl. Little by little the breeze strengthened; breathlessly\nwe watched the gradual lifting of the silken standard, till, with\nan indescribably proud motion--as though some spirit was infused\ninto the lifeless silk--it launched itself like a living thing\nagainst the tower wall.\n\n\"It touches! It touches!\" cried D'Aulon.\n\n\"It touches! It touches!\" we shouted in response.\n\n\"It touches! It touches!\" came an echoing wave sound from the\nsoldiers watching from their resting places.\n\nThe Maid was on her feet in a moment. Where was the weakness, the\nfeebleness, the faintness of the wounded girl? All gone--all\nswallowed up in the triumph of the victorious warrior.\n\n\"Onward! Onward, my children. Onward, de la part de Dieu! He has\ngiven you the victory! Onwards and take the tower! Nothing can\nresist you now!\"\n\nHer voice was heard all over the field. The white folds of the\nbanner still fluttered against the wall, the white armour of the\nMaid shone dazzling in the sunshine as she dashed forward. The army\nto a man sprang forward in her wake with that rush, with that power\nof confidence against which nothing can stand.\n\nThe English shrieked in their astonishment and affright. The dead\nhad come to life! The White Witch, struck down as they thought by\nmortal wound, was charging at the head of her armies. The French\nwere swarming up the scaling ladders, pouring into their tower,\ncarrying all before them.\n\nFighting was useless. Nothing remained but flight. Helter skelter,\nlike rabbits or rats, they fled this way and that before us. Not an\nEnglishman remained upon the south side of the river. The French\nflag waved from the top of the tower. The seven months' siege was\nraised by the Maid eight days after her entrance into the city.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII. HOW THE MAID WON A NEW NAME.\n\n\n\"Entrez, entrez--de la part de Dieu--all is yours!\"\n\nThus spoke the Maid, as we rushed the tower of the boulevard, the\nEnglish flying this way and that before us. The Maid found herself\nface to face with the commander--that Sir William Glasdale, who had\ncalled her vile names a few days before, and had promised to burn\nher for a witch if once she fell into his hands.\n\nBut she had no ill words for him, as she saw him, sword in hand,\nseeking to make a last stand upon the drawbridge leading to Les\nTourelles.\n\n\"Now yield you, Classidas,\" she said; \"I bear you no ill will. I\nhave great pity for your soul. Yield you, and all shall be well.\"\n\nBut he would not listen; his face was black like a thundercloud,\nand with his picked bodyguard of men, he retreated backwards, sword\nin hand, upon the bridge, seeking to gain the other tower, not\nknowing its desperate condition, and hoping there to make a last\nstand.\n\nBut he was not destined to achieve his end. Suddenly the bridge\ngave way beneath his feet, and he and his men were all precipitated\ninto the water. It looked to us as though a miracle had been\nwrought before our eyes; as though the gaze of the Maid had done\nit. But the truth was afterwards told us, that a fire ship from the\ncity had been sent across and had burned the bridge, cutting off\nthe retreat of the English that way.\n\nAnd now we heard the din of battle going on within Les Tourelles;\nfor La Hire had crossed the repaired bridge with a gallant band of\nsoldiers, and our men, hearing the shouts of their comrades, and\nthe cries of the trapped English, flung themselves into boats, or\nswam over, sword in mouth, anything to get to the scene of the\nfray; whilst others set to work with planks, and whatever they\ncould lay hands upon, to mend the broken drawbridge that they might\nswarm across into Les Tourelles and join in the final act of\nvictory, that should free Orleans from the iron grip in which she\nhad been held so long.\n\nBut the face of the Maid was troubled, as she looked into the dark\nwater which had closed over the head of Glasdale and his men. She\nhad seized upon a coil of rope; she stood ready to fling it towards\nthem when they rose; but encased as they were in their heavy mail,\nthere was no rising for them. Long did she gaze into the black,\nbloodstained water; but she gazed in vain; and when she raised her\neyes, I saw that they were swimming in tears.\n\n\"I would we might have saved them,\" she spoke, with a little catch\nin her voice, \"I have such great pity for their souls!\"\n\nThese were the first words I heard the Maid speak after her\nwonderful victory had been won; and whilst others went hither and\nthither, mad or drunk with joy, she busied herself about the\nwounded, making no distinction betwixt friend or foe, sending\nurgent message into the city for priests to come forth and bring\nthe last Sacraments with them, and so long as there were any dying\nto be confessed or consoled, or wounded to be cared for and\ntransported into the city, she seemed to have no thought for aught\nbeside. Thankful joy was indeed in her heart, but her tender\nwoman's pity was so stirred by sights of suffering and death that\nfor the moment she could think of nothing else.\n\nThus the daylight faded, and we began to think of return. How shall\nI describe the sight which greeted our eyes in the gathering dusk,\nas we looked towards the city? One might have thought that the\nEnglish had fired it, so bright was the glare in which it was\nenveloped; but we knew better. Bonfires were blazing in every\nsquare, in every open place. Nay, more, from the very roofs of\ntower and church great pillars of flame were ascending to the\nheavens.\n\nJoy bells had rung before this, but never with such a wild\njubilation, such a clamour of palpitating triumph. The city had\ngone mad in its joy--and it was no marvel--and all were awaiting\nthe return of the Maid, to whom this miraculous deliverance was\ndue. Eight days--eight days of the Maid--and the seven-months'\nsiege was raised! Was it wonderful they should hunger for her\npresence amongst them? Was it wonderful that every house should\nseek to hang out a white banner in honour of the Angelic Maid, and\nher pure whiteness of soul and body?\n\n\"I will come to you by the bridge,\" had been her own word; and now,\nbehold, the bridge was there! Like Trojans had the men worked\nbeneath the eagle eyes of La Hire. An army had already crossed from\nthe city; now that their task was done, the Maid's white charger\nhad been led across, and the cry was all for her, for her; that she\nshould let the people see her alive and well, now that her task was\naccomplished and Orleans was free!\n\nShe let us mount her upon her horse, and D'Aulon marched in front\nwith the great white standard. Weary and white and wan was she,\nwith the stress of the fight, with the pain and loss of blood from\nher wound, above all, with her deep, unfailing pity for the\nsufferings she had been forced to witness, for the souls gone to\ntheir last account without the sacred offices of the Church.\n\nAll this weighed upon her young spirit, and gave a strange,\nethereal loveliness to her pale face and shining eyes. Methought\nshe seemed almost more like some angelic presence in our midst than\na creature of human flesh and blood.\n\nThe Generals formed an advance guard before her. The soldiers followed,\nrank behind rank, in the rear. We of her household rode immediately in\nher wake, ready to protect her, if need be, from the too great pressure\nof the crowd. And so we crossed the hastily-repaired bridge, and entered\nby the Bride Gate--or St.  Catherine's gate, as it was equally called;\nfor a figure of St.  Catherine stands carved in a niche above the porch,\nand I saw the Maid glance upwards at it as she passed through, a smile\nupon her lips.\n\nShall I ever forget the thunder of applause which fell upon our\nears as we passed into the city through the bridge? It was like the\n\"sound of many waters\"--deafening in volume and intensity. And was\nit wonder? Had not something very like a miracle been wrought? For\nhad not rumours reached the city many times that day of the death\nof the Deliverer in the hour of victory? None well knew what to\nbelieve till they saw her in their midst, and then the cry which\nrent the heavens was such as methinks is heard but once in a\nlifetime.\n\nI know not who first spoke the words; but once spoken, they were\ncaught up by ten thousand lips, and the blazing heavens echoed them\nback in great waves of rolling sound:\n\n\"THE MAID OF ORLEANS! THE MAID OF ORLEANS! Welcome, honour, glory,\npraise to THE MAID OF ORLEANS!\"\n\nThe people were well-nigh mad with joy; they rushed upon her to\nkiss her hands, her knees, the folds of her banner, the neck or the\nflanks of her horse. In the red glare of the hundred bonfires the\nwhiteness of her armour seemed to take a new lustre. The rent upon\nthe shoulder could be plainly seen, showing where the arrow had\ntorn its way. Women sobbed aloud as they looked; men cursed the\nhand which had shot the bolt; all joined in frantic cheers of joy\nto see her riding alone, erect and smiling, though with a dreamy\nstillness of countenance which physical lassitude in part accounted\nfor.\n\n\"I thank you, my friends, I thank you,\" she kept saying, as though\nno other words would come, save when now and again she would add,\n\"But to God must you give your thanks and blessings. It is He who\nhas delivered you.\"\n\nIt was not far to the house of the Treasurer, and there in the\nthreshold stood the little Charlotte, a great wreath of bay and\nlaurel in her tiny hands. She was lifted up in her father's strong\narms, and ere the Maid was able to dismount from her horse the\nlittle one had placed the triumphal wreath upon her fair head.\n\nO, what a shout arose! It was like the mighty burst of some great\nthunderstorm. The Maid, blushing now at the tumult of applause,\nstretched out her arms, took the little one into them, and held her\nin a close embrace whilst she bowed her last graceful thanks to the\njoy-maddened crowd. Then she slipped from her horse, and holding\nthe little one fast by the hand, disappeared into the house, whilst\nthe people reluctantly dispersed to hear the story all over again\nfrom the soldiers pouring in, each with some tale of his own to\ntell of the prowess of THE MAID OF ORLEANS.\n\nYes, that was the name by which she was henceforth to be known. The\ncity was wild with joy and pride thus to christen her. And she,\nhaving crossed by the bridge, as she had said, sat down for a brief\nwhile to that festal board which had been spread for her. But\nfatigue soon over-mastering her, she retired to her room, only\npausing to look at us all and say:\n\n\"Tomorrow is the Lord's own day of rest. Remember that, my friends.\nLet there be no fighting, no pursuit, no martial exercise, whatever\nthe foe may threaten or do. Tomorrow must be a day of thanksgiving\nand praise. Look to it that my words are obeyed.\"\n\nThey said she slept like a child that night; yet with the early\nlight of day she was up, kneeling in the Cathedral with her\nhousehold beside her, listening to the sound of chant and prayer,\nreceiving the Holy Sacrament, the pledge of her Lord's love.\n\nNot until we had returned from that first duty did she listen to\nwhat was told her anent the movements of the English. They were\ndrawn up in battle array upon the north side of the river, spoke\nthose who had gone to the battlements to look. Thinned as were\ntheir ranks, they were still a formidable host, and from the menace\nof their attitude it might be that they expected the arrival of\nreinforcements. Would it not be well, spoke La Hire, to go forth\nagainst them at once, whilst the soldiers' hearts were flushed with\nvictory, whilst the memory of yesterday's triumphs was green within\nthem?\n\nBut the Maid, hitherto all in favour of the most dashing and daring\npolicy, answered now, with a shake of the head:\n\n\"It is Sunday, my Generals,\" she replied; \"the day of my Lord. The\nday He has hallowed to His service.\"\n\nShe paused a moment, and added, quite gently, and without reproach,\n\"Had you acted as I did counsel, the English would now have had no\nfooting on the north side of the river; they must needs have fled\naltogether from the neighbourhood of the city. Nevertheless, my\nLord is merciful. He helps, though men hinder His designs. Let no\nman stir forth with carnal weapons against the foe this day. We\nwill use other means to vanquish them.\"\n\nThen turning to me, she bid me go to the Bishop, and ask him to\ngive her audience; and shortly she was ushered into his presence,\nand we waited long for her to reappear.\n\nHow shall I tell of the wonderful scene which the sun looked down\nupon that bright May morning, when the purpose of the Maid became\nfully revealed to us? Even now it seems rather as a dream, than as\nan incident in a terrible war.\n\nOut upon the level plain, in full sight of the city, in full view\nof the serried ranks of the English army, a great white altar was\nset up. The army from Orleans marched out and stood bareheaded\nbeneath the walls, unarmed by order of the Maid, save for the small\nweapon every man habitually carried at his belt, citizen as well as\nsoldier. The townspeople flocked to the walls, or out into the\nplain, as pleased them best; and from the Renart Gate there issued\nforth a grave and sumptuous procession; the Bishop in his\nvestments, accompanied by all the ecclesiastics within the city\nwalls, each of them robed, attended by acolytes swinging censers,\nthe incense cloud ascending through the sunny air, tapers swaying\nin the breeze, their light extinguished by the brilliance of the\nsunshine.\n\nThe Maid in her white tunic, with a white mantle over her\nshoulders, followed with bent head, leading the little Charlotte by\nthe hand succeeded by her household.\n\nAnd there, in the sight of the rival armies, High Mass was\ncelebrated by the Bishop, both armies kneeling devoutly, and\nturning towards the Altar as one man. Never have I witnessed such a\nscene. Never shall I witness such another.\n\nThe Mass over, the procession filed back through the gate, both\narmies kneeling motionless till it had disappeared. Then the Maid\nrose, and we with her, and followed her in its wake, and the French\narmy, in perfect order, re-entered the city by the appointed gates,\nas had been ordered.\n\nOne hour later and the Maid sent D'Aulon up to the battlements to\nlook what the English army was doing. He returned to say that they\nwere still drawn up in rank as before.\n\n\"Which way are their faces?\" she asked.\n\n\"Their faces are turned away from the city,\" was the reply.\n\nThe countenance of the Maid brightened with a great light.\n\n\"Then let them go, a part de Dieu!\" she answered. \"My God, I thank\nThee for this great grace!\"\n\nAnd so, without further battle or bloodshed, the English army\nmarched away from Orleans; and upon the next morning not a man of\nthe foe was left; and the citizens pouring out from the town,\ndestroyed, with acclamations of joy, those great bastilles, which\nhad so long sheltered the foe and threatened the safety of the\ncity.\n\nIt was a day ever to be remembered. The bells pealed ceaselessly,\nthe houses were decked with garlands, white banners or silken\npennons floated everywhere, the townsfolk arrayed themselves in\nholiday garb, and poured out through the gates to wander at will\nover the plain, so lately held by the English. Gladness and the\nwonder of a great relief was stamped upon every face, and\nconstantly songs of triumph arose or thunders of applause, of which\nthe burden always was--THE MAID OF ORLEANS! THE MAID OF ORLEANS!\n\nThey would have kept her with them for ever, if it might so have\nbeen. They talked wildly, yet earnestly, of building her a palace,\nwhere she should live at ease all the rest of her days, the object\nof universal admiration and homage.\n\nBut the Maid listened to such words, when repeated to her, with a\ndreamy smile. Her wound required rest; and for two days she\nconsented to remain quiet in the house of the Treasurer, lying for\nthe most part upon a couch in a great cool chamber, with the little\nCharlotte for her companion and playfellow. She sometimes rose and\nshowed herself at a window in answer to the tumultuous shoutings of\nthe crowd without; and she received with pleasure some great\nbaskets and bouquets of flowers which the wives and children of the\ncitizens had culled for her. But she gently put aside all\nsuggestions of rewards for herself, which some would fain have\nbestowed upon the Deliverer, and which men of all ranks were but\ntoo ready to claim and receive for service rendered.\n\n\"I have all that I want, myself--and more,\" she said; \"if any would\noffer gifts, let them be thank offerings to the Lord. Let the poor\nreceive alms, let Masses be sung for the souls of those killed in\nthe war; but for me--I want nothing but the love of the people of\nFrance. I am come to do the will of my Lord. I ask only His\napproving smile.\"\n\nAnd all the while she was eagerly desirous to return to the King,\nand urge upon him the need to repair instantly to Rheims, and there\nreceive his crown. To her he was not truly King till he had been\nanointed as such. She knew that the blow to the English arms just\nstruck must have a paralysing effect upon their forces, and that a\nrapid march with even a small army would be accomplished without\nresistance, if only it were quickly made.\n\nI need not say that the city of Rheims lay in the very heart of\nterritory owning the English sway. To reach that city we must\nperforce march right through a hostile country, garrisoned by the\nenemy. But of that the Maid made light.\n\n\"The hearts of the people will turn towards us,\" she said. \"They\nhave submitted to the English yoke; but they are Frenchmen still.\nOnce let them see that the power of the enemy is broken, and they\nwill rally to our standard. But precious time should not be lost.\nThe Dauphin should place himself at the head of such an army as he\ncan spare for the march, and journey forthwith to Rheims. There\nshall the crown be set upon his head--the pledge and earnest that\none day he shall rule the whole realm of France, as his fathers did\nbefore him!\"\n\nAnd so, before a week had passed, we set forth with the Maid to go\nto the King, who had by this time moved his Court from Chinon to\nLoches, another fortress upon the Loire, where there was space for\nhis train, and which could, if necessary, be fortified against a\nsiege.\n\nIt was a strange journey--more like a triumphal progress than\nanything we had yet met with. The fame of the Maid and her\nmiraculous exploit in the matter of the siege of Orleans had gone\nbefore her, and from every town or village through which she passed\nthe people flocked out to see her, bearing garlands and banners,\ncrowding about her, asking her blessing, seeking to touch her,\npouring out blessings and praises, so that the heart of anyone less\nfilled with the humility which comes from above must needs have\nbeen altogether puffed up and filled with pride.\n\nBut it was never so with the Maid. Her gentle courtesy and devout\nhumility never failed her. Lovingly and gratefully she received\nlove and affection, but praise and honour she set aside, bidding\nall remember that to God alone belonged the issues from death, and\nthat she was but an instrument in His mighty hands.\n\nWe wondered how she would be received at the Court, and whether La\nTremouille and her other adversaries had been convinced of her\ndivine mission, and would now remove all opposition. As we\napproached the fortress we saw that flags were floating from every\ntower; that the place wore a festive aspect, and that the town was\npouring out to welcome us and gaze upon the Maid.\n\nThen, with a great fanfare of trumpets, the gates of the fortress\nwere flung wide open, and forth came a gay procession, in the midst\nof which, we could not doubt, rode the King himself.\n\nYes, there was no doubt of it. The crowd parted this way and that,\nand we saw how the young King himself was marching towards us, and\nat the sight of the Maid, not only did every courtier in the train\nuncover, but the King himself bared his head, and bowed low to the\nMAID OF ORLEANS.\n\nShe was off her horse in a moment, kneeling at his feet; but he\nraised her instantly, held her hands in his, gave her thanks with\ntrue emotion in face and voice, and, turning to her brothers, who\nrode amongst us of her household, he cried to them in loud tones,\nsaying how he had decreed that the family of the D'Arcs should\nhenceforth have the right to quarter the hues of France on their\narms! An empty honour, perhaps, to simple peasants; and yet an\nhonour that the proudest families in the land might envy!\n\nThey carried her into the fortress. The two Queens and the ladies\nof the Court knew not how to make enough of her. They seemed to\nthink that our coming must be regarded as the signal for an\noutburst of merrymaking and carousing, such as the King found so\nmuch to his liking.\n\nIt amazed us to find him still wrapped in idle luxury, joyful, it\nis true, over the relief of Orleans, over the discomfiture of the\nEnglish; but as indisposed as ever to take the field himself, or to\nput himself at the head of an army and march to his coronation as\nthe Maid instantly urged him.\n\n\"Gentle Dauphin, the Lord would have you King of your realm; He\nwould set the crown upon your head. He has smitten your enemies and\nscattered them. Then wherefore not do His will and march to the\nappointed spot? All will be well if you but follow His counsels.\"\n\n\"But, Maiden, I have so few troops; and I have no money; and the\nway lies through a hostile land,\" the King would urge, when day\nafter day she pleaded with him. \"All my counsellors advise delay.\nIs it not right that I should listen to them as well as to you?\nWherefore such haste? Is it not wiser to act with deliberation and\nprudence?\"\n\n\"It is right to follow the voice of the Lord,\" spoke the Maid with\ngrave and forceful earnestness, \"and to put your trust in Him\nrather than in any child of man.\"\n\nBut the King could not be persuaded; indolence and fear held him\ncaptive, whilst his traitorous advisers sought by every means to\nundermine the influence of the Maid. And although in this they were\nnot successful, for he believed in her mission, admired her\nprowess, and looked to her for guidance and help, he must needs\nlisten also to these others who were of contrary mind, and so the\nweary days dragged on, and nothing was done.\n\n\"Noble Dauphin,\" pleaded the Maid at last, \"hold not such long or\nso many councils; or if, indeed, these be needful to you, let me, I\npray you, go forth again with a small army and clear the way. And\nwhen all the country betwixt this place and Rheims has submitted to\nyour power, then follow yourself, and take your kingdom!\"\n\nAh me!--to think that he, a King, could consent again to let her go\nthus, whilst he remained in ease and indolence surrounded by his\nCourt! But so it was. What she could not persuade him to do\nhimself, she at last obtained leave to do for him, and with a\njoyful face she came to us with the news:\n\n\"Gentlemen and my good comrades, be ready for a speedy march; we\nwill go forward and clear the way; and afterwards the Dauphin shall\nfollow and be made King!\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV. HOW THE MAID CLEARED THE KING'S WAY.\n\n\nWe started forth from Selles, where the army which was to do this\nwork had assembled. It was not so great a force as it would have\nbeen but for the hesitations of the King, and the delays imposed by\nhis Council. For the men who had marched from Orleans, flushed with\nvictory, eager to rush headlong upon the foe and drive them back to\ntheir own shores, had grown weary of the long waiting, and had been\ninfected by the timidity or the treachery of those about the Court.\nThey had melted away by little and little, carrying with them the\nbooty they had found in the English bastilles round Orleans, glad\nto return to their homes and their families without further\nfighting, though had the Maid been permitted to place herself at\ntheir head at once, as she did desire, they would have followed her\nto the death.\n\nStill, when all was said and done, it was a gallant troop that\nresponded to her call and mustered at her summons. The magic of her\nname still thrilled all hearts, and throughout the march of events\nwhich followed, it was always the common soldiers who trusted\nimplicitly in the Maid; they left doubts and disputings and\nunworthy jealousies to the officers and the statesmen.\n\nThe Maid went forth with a greater glory and honour than has,\nmethinks, ever been bestowed upon woman before--certainly upon no\nhumbly-born maiden of seventeen years. Some said that she was\nactually ennobled in her own person by the grant to quarter the\nlilies of France, and that her brothers ranked now amongst the\nknights and nobles. Others declared that she had refused all\npersonal honours, and that she still remained a humble peasant,\nthough so high in the favour of the King, and so great a personage\nin the realm.\n\nAs for me, I cared nothing for all this. To me she was always the\nAngelic Maid, heaven sent, miraculous, apart from the earth, though\nliving amongst us and leading us on to victory.\n\nTo the army she was--and that was enough. She was the companion and\nfriend of princes, nobles, and knights; but she was never as others\nwere. An atmosphere of sanctity seemed ever to encompass her. All\nwho approached her did her unconscious homage. None could be with\nher long without being conscious that she was visited by sounds\nunheard by them, that her eyes saw sights to which theirs were\nclosed. We were to have added witness to this in the days which\nfollowed.\n\nSo here we were gathered at Selles upon that bright June morning,\njust one month after the relief of Orleans. The King had presented\nto the Maid a great black charger; a mighty creature of immense\nstrength and spirit, but with something of a wicked look in his\nrolling eyes which made me anxious as he was led forward. The Maid\nin her white armour--its rent deftly mended, its silver brilliance\nfully restored--with her velvet white-plumed cap upon her head and\na little axe in her hand, stood waiting to mount. But perhaps it\nwas the gleaming whiteness of this slender figure that startled the\nhorse, or else the cries and shouts of the populace at sight of the\nMaid excited him to the verge of terror; for he reared and plunged\nso madly as his rider approached that it was with difficulty he was\nheld by two stalwart troopers, and we all begged of the Maid not to\ntrust herself upon his back.\n\nShe looked at us with a smile, and made a little courteous gesture\nwith her hand; then turning to the attendants she said:\n\n\"Lead him yonder to the cross at the entrance to the church; I will\nmount him there.\"\n\nSnorting and struggling, casting foam flakes from his lips, and\nfighting every inch of the way, the great charger was led whither\nthe Maid had said. But once arrived at the foot of the cross, he\nsuddenly became perfectly quiet. He stood like a statue whilst the\nMaid approached, caressed him gently with the hand from which she\nhad drawn her mailed gauntlet, and, after speaking kindly words to\nhim, vaulted lightly on his back.\n\nFrom that moment her conquest of the fierce creature was complete.\nHe carried her throughout that wonderful week with a gentleness and\ndocility, and an untiring strength which was beautiful to see. The\nbrute creation owned her sway as well as did men of understanding,\nwho could watch and weigh her acts and deeds.\n\nSo, amid the plaudits of the people, the fanfare of trumpets, the\nrolling of drums, the rhythmical tread of thousands of mailed feet,\nwe rode forth from Selles, led by the Maid, beside whom rode the\nKing's cousin, the Duc d'Alencon, now resolved to join us, despite\nhis former hesitancy and the fears of his wife. He had marched with\nus to Orleans, but had then turned back, perhaps with the not\nunnatural fear of again falling into the hands of the English. This\nhad happened to him at Agincourt, and only lately had he been\nreleased.\n\nPerhaps his fears were pardonable, and those of his wife more so.\nShe had sought earnestly to hold him hack from this new campaign;\nand, when she could not prevail with him, she had addressed herself\nto the Maid with tears in her eyes, telling her how long had been\nhis captivity in England, and with how great a sum he had been\nransomed. Why must he adventure himself again into danger?\n\nThe Maid had listened to all with gentle sympathy. Though so\nfearless herself she was never harsh to those who feared, and the\nappeal of the Duchesse touched her.\n\n\"Fear nothing, Madame,\" she answered, \"I will bring him back to you\nsafe and sound. Only pray for him always--pray for us day and\nnight. I will make his safety my special care. He shall return to\nyou unharmed; but I pray you hinder him not from serving his\ncountry in this great hour of need.\"\n\nSo the Maid prevailed, and the Duc was entrusted with the command\nof the army, second only to the Maid herself, who was distinctly\nplaced at the head of all--whose word was to be supreme; whilst the\nKing's fiat went forth that no Council should be held without her,\nand that she was to be obeyed as the head in all things!\n\nAnd men like Dunois, La Hire, and the Chevalier Gaucourt heard this\nwithout a murmur! Think of it!--a campaign conducted by a girl of\nseventeen, who, until a few weeks before, had never seen a shot\nfired in her life! Ah; but all men remembered Orleans, and were not\nsurprised at the King's decree.\n\nAs we marched along in close array, we gathered many recruits by\nthe way, notwithstanding that we were in the territory which had\nsubmitted to the English rule. Knights and gentlemen flocked forth\nfrom many a chateau to join themselves to the army of the\nmiraculous Maid, whilst humble peasants, fired by patriotism and\nzeal, came nightly into our camp seeking to be enrolled amid those\nwho followed and fought beneath her banner.\n\nAnd so for three days we marched, our ranks swelling, our hearts\nfull of zeal and confidence, till news was brought us that the Duke\nof Suffolk, one of the bravest and most chivalrous of English\nknights and soldiers, had thrown himself and his followers into\nJargeau, and was hastily fortifying it for a siege.\n\nThis news reached us at Orleans itself, whither we had returned in\nthe course of our march, to be received with wild acclamations by\nthe people there. So loving were the citizens, that they were loth\nindeed to see the Maid set forth upon any mission which threatened\ndanger to herself or her army; and their protestations and\narguments so wrought upon many of the generals and officers, that\nthey united to beg her to remain inactive awhile, and send to the\nKing for fresh reinforcements before attempting any such arduous\ntask.\n\nThe Maid listened with her grave eyes wide in amazement.\n\n\"You say this to me--here in Orleans! You who have seen what my\nLord accomplished for us before! Shame upon you for your lack of\nfaith--for your unworthy thoughts. We march for Jargeau at dawn\ntomorrow!\"\n\nNever before had we heard the Maid speak with quite such severity\nof tone and word. Her glorious eyes flashed with a strange lambent\nlight. She looked every inch the ruler of men. All heads were bent\nbefore her. None dared speak a word to hinder her in her purpose.\n\nThe morrow saw us before Jargeau. Its walls were strong, it was\nwell supplied with those great guns that belched forth fire and\nsmoke, and scattered huge stone balls against any attacking force.\nBut we had brought guns with us--great pieces of ordnance, to set\nagainst the city walls, and the Maid ordered these to be brought\nand placed in certain positions, never asking counsel, always\nacting on her own initiative, without hesitation and without haste,\ncalm and serene; with that deep, farseeing gaze of hers turned from\nher own position to the city and back again, as though she saw in\nsome miraculous vision what must be the end of all this toil.\n\n\"Mort de Dieu!\" cried La Hire, forgetting in his wonder the loyally\nkept promise to swear only by his baton, \"but the Maid has nothing\nto learn in the art of gunnery! Where hath she learnt such skill,\nsuch wisdom! We never had guns to place at Orleans! Where has the\nchild seen warfare, that she places her artillery with the skill of\na tried general of forces!\"\n\nAh!--where had the Maid learned her skill in any kind of warfare?\nHad we not been asking this from the first? This was but another\ndevelopment of the same miracle. For my part I had ceased now to\nwonder at anything which she said or did.\n\nAt daybreak on the morrow the roar of battle began. The air was\nshaken by the crash and thunder of the guns from both sides. But it\nwas plain to all eyes how that the cunning disposition of our\npieces, set just where they could deal most effectively with a weak\npoint in the fortifications, or a gateway less capable than others\nof defence, were doing far more hurt to the enemy than their fire\ndid to us. For the most part their balls passed harmlessly over our\nheads, and the clouds of arrows were for us the greater danger,\nthough our armour protected us from over-much damage.\n\nBut it was before Jargeau that the incident happened, which so many\nwriters have told of the Maid and the Duc d'Alencon; how that she\ndid suddenly call to him, nay more, drew him with her own hand out\nof the place where he had stood for some time near to her, saying\nin a voice of warning, \"Have a care, my lord, there is death at\nhand!\"\n\nAnother young knight boldly stepped into that very position from\nwhich she had snatched Alencon, and an instant afterwards his head\nwas struck off by a cannon ball. The Maid saw and covered her eyes\nfor a moment with her mailed hand.\n\n\"Lord have mercy on that brave soul!\" she whispered, \"but why did\nhe not heed the warning?\"\n\nWell, the fighting round Jargeau was fierce and long; but the Maid\nwith her standard held stubbornly to the place beside the wall\nwhich she had taken up, and at sight of her, and at the sound of\nher clear, silvery voice, encouraging and commanding, the men came\never on and on, regardless of peril, till the scaling ladders were\nset, and through the breaches torn in the walls by the guns, our\nsoldiers swarmed over into the town, shouting with the shout of\nthose with whom is the victory.\n\nAgain the Maid triumphed. Again the hearts of the English melted\nwithin them at the sight of the White Witch, as they would\ntauntingly call her, even whilst they cowered and fled before her.\nThe French were swarming into the city; the great gates were flung\nopen with acclamations of triumph; and the Maid marched in to take\npossession, her white banner floating proudly before her, her eyes\nalight, her cheeks flushed.\n\nOne of the young gentlemen not long since added to her household,\nGuillame Regnault by name, from Auvergne, a very knightly youth, a\nfavourite with us all, came striding up to the Maid, and saluting\nwith deep reverence, begged speech with her. She was never too much\noccupied to receive those who came to her, and instantly he had her\near.\n\n\"My General,\" he said, \"the Duke of Suffolk is close at hand. We\npressed him hard, and it seemed as though he would die sword in\nhand, ere he would yield. But I did beg of him in his own tongues\nwith which I am acquainted, not to throw away his noble life;\nwhereupon he did look hard at me, pausing the while in thrust and\nparry, as all others did pause, for us to parley; and he said that\nhe would give up his sword to THE MAID OF ORLEANS, and to none\nother. Wherefore I did tell him that I would run and fetch her to\nreceive his submission, or take him to her myself. But then his\nmind did change, and he said to me, 'Are you noble?' So I told him\nthat my family was noble, but that I had not yet won my\nknighthood's spurs. Then forthwith did he uplift his sword, and I\nread his meaning in his eyes. I bent my knee, and there and then he\ndubbed me knight, and afterwards would have tendered me his sword,\nbut I said, 'Not so, gentle Duke, but I hear by the sound of the\nsilver trumpet that the Maid, our General, is close at hand. Suffer\nme to tell her of what has passed, and I trow that she will herself\nreceive your sword at her hands.'\"\n\n\"You did well, Sir Guillame,\" spoke the Maid, using the new title\nfor the first time, whereat the youth's face kindled and glowed\nwith pleasure. \"Bring the Duke at once to me here. I will receive\nhis surrender in person.\"\n\nTruly it was a pretty sight to watch--the dignified approach of the\nstalwart soldier; tall, upright, a knightly figure in battered coat\nof mail; bleeding from several wounds, but undaunted and\nundauntable; and the slim, youthful white figure, with uncovered\nhead, and a face regal in its dignity; and yet so full of sweet\ncourtesy and honourable admiration for a beaten, yet noble foe. He\ngazed upon her with a great wonder in his eyes, and then, dropping\nupon one knee, tendered his sword to her, which the Maid took, held\nin her hands awhile, deep in thought, and then, with one of her\nwonderfully sweet smiles, held out to him again.\n\n\"Gentle Duke,\" she said, \"it hath been told me that you are known\nin France as the English Roland; and if so, I would be loth to\ndeprive so noble a foe of his knightly weapon. Keep it, then, and\nall I ask of you is that you use it no more against the soldiers of\nFrance. And now, if you will let my gentlemen lead you to my tent,\nyour hurts shall be dressed, and you shall receive such tendance as\nyour condition requires.\"\n\nBut I may not linger over every incident of that march, nor all the\nachievements of the Maid in the arts both of peace and of war.\nTowns and castles surrendered at her summons, or flung wide their\ngates at the news of her approach. Sometimes we fought, but more\noften the very sound of her name, or the sight of the white figure\nupon the great black horse was sufficient, and fortress after\nfortress upon the Loire fell before her, the English garrisons\nmelting away or marching out, unable or unwilling to try\nconclusions with so notable a warrior, who came, as it were, in the\npower of the King of Heaven.\n\nAnd not only did she achieve triumphs in war's domains; she was\nequally victorious as a promoter of peace. For when the news was\nbrought to us that the Comte de Richemont, Constable of France, but\nhitherto inimical to the King, desired to join us with a body of\nmen, the Duc d'Alencon would have sent him away with insult and\nrefused his proffer of help; but the Maid, with her gentle\nauthority and reasonable counsel, brought him to a different frame\nof mind, and the Constable was received with a fair show of\ngraciousness. And although in the days which immediately followed\nhis aid was not of great importance (for when France had the Maid\nto fight for her she wanted none beside), yet in the time to come,\nwhen she was no longer there to battle for the salvation of her\ncountry, De Richemont's loyal service to the King was of\ninestimable value, and had it not been for the Maid at this\njuncture, he might have been lost for ever to the French cause.\n\nHer generosity shone out the more in that De Richemont was no\nfriend to her; indeed, he had regarded her as little better than a\nwitch before he came under the magic of her personality. His\ngreeting to her was rough and blunt.\n\n\"Maiden,\" he said, \"they tell me that you are against me, and that\nyou are a witch. I know not whether you are from God or not. If you\nare from Him, I do not fear you. If you are from the devil, I fear\nyou still less.\"\n\nShe looked him full in the face, gravely at first, but with a smile\nkindling deep down in her eyes. Then she held out her hand in token\nof amity.\n\n\"Brave Constable, this is well spoken. You have no cause to fear\nme. You are not here by my will, it is true; for I have enough men\nwith me to do the will of my Lord; but since you have come for love\nof the Dauphin, who soon must be crowned King, you are welcome\nindeed; and I know that you will live to serve him faithfully,\nthough in the present you have foes at Court who turn his heart\nfrom you.\"\n\nSo again she saw what lay beyond our ken, and which the future has\nbrought to light. Alas, that she never saw the day when the King\nthrew off his supine fear and idleness, and played the man in the\nconquest of his kingdom, and when De Richemont fought like a lion\nat his side! Yet who dare say that she did not see and did not\nrejoice even then? If the light came only in gleams and flashes,\nsurely it came to her charged with an infinite joy!\n\nAnd now I must tell of the last exploit of this wonderful eight\ndays' triumphal march through a hostile country--that battle of\nPatay, where, for the first time, the Maid met the foe in the open,\nand directed operations not against stone walls, as in every case\nbefore, but against an army drawn up in a plain.\n\nThere had been marching and counter-marching which only a map could\nmake clear. What matters it the route we pursued, so long only as\nour progress had been attended by victory, and the fortresses\ncleared of foes, so that the journey of the King could now be taken\nin safety? Yet there was one more peril to face; for the army so\nlong expected, under Sir John Fastolffe, was now heard of somewhere\nclose at hand. He had joined himself to Talbot, so it was rumoured,\nand now a great host was somewhere in our neighbourhood, ready to\nfall upon us if they could find us, and cut us to pieces, as they\nhad done so often before--witness the fields of Crecy, Poictiers,\nand Agincourt!\n\nFor the first time there was uneasiness and fear in the ranks of\nthe soldiers. They had infinite confidence in the Maid as a leader\nagainst stone walls, for had they not seen her take tower after\ntower, city after city? But she had never led them in the open\nfield; and how could they expect to meet and triumph over the\nEnglish, who had always vanquished them heretofore?\n\nWe knew not where the foe lay; all we knew was that it was\nsomewhere close at hand; and so strong grew the fear in the hearts\nof Alencon and many others, that they begged the Maid to fall back\nupon the camp at Beaugency, and to wait there for further\nreinforcements. But she shook her head with decision.\n\n\"Let us find them first, and then ride boldly at them. Be not\nafraid; they will not stand. My Lord will give us the victory!\"\n\nAnd how did we come upon them at last? Verily, by a mere accident.\nWe were marching in good order towards the great plain of Beauce,\nwhich at this time of the year was so thickly overgrown with\nvineyards and cornfields that we saw nothing of any lurking foe;\nand I trow that we were not seen of them, although a great host was\nlying at ease in the noontide heat, watching for our coming, I\ndoubt not; but not yet drawn up in battle array.\n\nA stag, frightened by our approach, broke from the thicket, and\nwent thundering across the plain. All at once a shower of arrows\nlet loose from English bows followed the creature's flight,\ntogether with eager shouts and laughter, betraying the presence of\nthe unsuspecting foe.\n\nWith a lightning swiftness the Maid grasped the whole situation.\nHere was an army, waiting to fight, it is true, but for the moment\noff its guard. Here were we, in order of march. One word from her,\nand our whole force would charge straight upon the foe!\n\nAnd was that word lacking? Was there an instant's hesitation? Need\nsuch a question be asked of the Maid? Clear and sweet rose her\nwonderful voice, thrilling through the hot summer air.\n\n\"Forward, my children, forward, and fear not. Fly boldly upon them,\nand the day shall be yours!\"\n\nShe charged, herself, at the head of one column; but La Hire, in\nthe vanguard, was before her. With shouts of triumph and joy the\nold veteran and his followers thundered into the very midst of the\nstartled English, and we followed in their wake.\n\nThe Duc d'Alencon rode beside the Maid. His face was pale with\nexcitement--perhaps with a touch of fear. He remembered the fight\nat Agincourt, and the wound received there, the captivity and weary\nwaiting for release.\n\n\"How will it end, my General, how will it end?\" he said, and I\nheard his words and her reply, for I was riding close behind.\n\n\"Have you good spurs, M. de Duc?\" she asked, with one flashing\nsmile showing the gleam of white teeth.\n\n\"Ah Ciel!\" he cried in dismay; \"then shall we fly before them?\"\n\n\"Not so,\" she answered; \"but they will fly so fast before us that\nwe shall need good spurs to keep up with them!\"\n\nAnd so, indeed, it was. Perhaps it was the sight of the elan of the\nFrench troops, perhaps the fear of the White Witch, perhaps because\ntaken at unawares and in confusion, but the English for once made\nno stand. Fastolffe and his men, on the outer skirts of the force,\nrode off at once in some order, heading straight for Paris, but the\nbraver and less prudent Talbot sought, again and again, to rally\nhis men, and bring them to face the foe.\n\nBut it was useless. The rout was utter and complete. They could not\nstand before the Maid; and when Talbot himself had fallen a\nprisoner into our hands, the army melted away and ran for its life,\nso that this engagement is called the \"Chasse de Patay\" to this\nday.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV. HOW THE MAID RODE WITH THE KING.\n\n\nThus the English were routed with great loss, their leading\ngenerals prisoners in the hands of the Maid, and the road for the\nKing open, not to Rheims alone, but to the very walls of Paris, had\nhe so chosen.\n\nIndeed, there were those amongst us who would gladly and joyfully\nhave marched under our great white banner right to the capital of\nthe kingdom, and driven forth from it the English Regent and all\nthe soldiers with him, whether Burgundians or those of his own\nnation. For Fastolffe was flying along the road which led him\nthither, and it would have been a joy to many of us to pursue and\novertake, to rout him and his army, or put them to the sword, and\nto march up beneath the walls of Paris itself, and demand its\nsurrender in the name of the Maid!\n\nThose there were amongst us who even came and petitioned of her to\nlead us thither, and strike a death blow, once and for all, against\nthe power of the alien foe who had ruled our fair realm too long;\nbut though her eyes brightened as we spoke, and though all that was\nmartial in her nature responded to the appeal thus made to her--for\nby this time she was a soldier through every fibre of her being,\nand albeit ever extraordinarily tender towards the wounded, the\nsuffering, the dying--be they friends or foes--the soldier spirit\nwithin her burned ever higher and higher, and she knew in her clear\nhead that humanly speaking, we could embark upon such a victorious\nmarch as perchance the world has never seen before--certainly not\nbeneath such a leader.\n\nAnd yet she shook her head, even whilst her cheek flushed and her\neyes sparkled. Little as the King had done to merit the deep\ndevotion of such a nature as hers, the Maid's loving loyalty\ntowards, and faith in him never wavered. Although we all saw in him\nthe idle, pleasure loving, indolent weakling, which in those days\nhe was, she could, or would, find no fault with him. Often as he\ndisappointed her, she never ceased to love and honour him.\nPerchance it was given to her to see something of that manlier\nnature which must have underlaid even then that which we saw and\ngrieved over. For she would hear no word against him. He was the\ncentre and sun of her purpose, and her answer to us was spoken\nwithout hesitation.\n\n\"Nay, my friends, we have other work to do ere we may stand before\nthe walls of Paris. The Dauphin must be brought to Rheims, and the\ncrown set upon his head; for thus hath my Lord decreed, and I may\nnot act other than as my voices direct.\"\n\nAnd when the Maid spoke thus, there was no contradicting or\ngainsaying her. We had such confidence in her by this, that\nwhatever she did was right in our eyes The soldiers would have\nfollowed her eagerly to the very walls of Paris; but at her command\nthey turned back and marched, with pennons flying and music\nsounding, to the Court of the King, where news of the Chasse of\nPatay had already preceded us, and where a joyous welcome awaited\nour return, though even now there were sour and jealous faces\namongst the nearest advisers of the King.\n\nIf you would believe it, they still opposed the journey of the King\nto Rheims, working on his fears, his irresolution, his indolence,\nand seeking to undermine the influence of the Maid, when she went\npersonally to see him, that she might speak with him face to face.\nHe himself had many excuses to offer.\n\n\"Sweet Chevaliere,\" he would say, calling her by one of the names\nwhich circulated through the Court, \"why such haste? Is it not time\nthat you should rest and take your ease after your many and arduous\ntoils? Think what you have accomplished in these few days! Flesh\nand blood cannot continue at such a strain. Let us now enjoy the\nfruits of these wonderful victories; let us feast and rejoice and\nenjoy a period of repose. Surely that is prudent counsel; for we\nmust have care for our precious Maid, whom none can replace in our\narmy, if she, by too arduous toil, should do herself an injury!\"\n\nBut the Maid looked at him with her grave eyes full of earnest\npleading and searching questioning.\n\n\"Gentle Dauphin, I beseech you speak not thus, nor reason after\nsuch carnal fashion. Think of what your Lord and my Lord has done\nfor you! Think of what hath been accomplished by Him since first it\nwas given to me to look upon your face. Think what He hath decreed\nand what He hath already wrought for the furtherance of His purpose\ntowards your Majesty and this realm! And shall His will be set\naside? Shall we, His children, hang back and thwart Him, just in\nthe hour when He has put the victory in our hands? Ah, sweet\nDauphin, that would be shame, indeed! That would be pain and grief\nto Him. Cast away all such unworthy thought! Press on to the goal,\nnow in sight! When you stand, crowned and anointed, King of France,\nyou shall know the power wherewith you have been upheld, and lifted\nfrom the very mire of humiliation and disgrace!\"\n\nAnd at these words the Duc d'Alencon, who was by this an ardent\nbeliever in the Maid, and devotedly attached to her service,\nprostrated himself before the King, and cried:\n\n\"Sire, this Maid speaks words of wisdom. I pray your Majesty to\ngive full heed to what she says. Had you watched her as I have\ndone, had you marched with her and seen her in battle as well as in\nscenes of peace, you would know well that the power of God is with\nher. Fear not to do her bidding! Go forth as she bids. Let us hail\nyou King of your fair realm, and then let the Maid lead us on to\nother and greater victories!\"\n\nWe all joined our entreaties to that of the Duke. We marvelled how\nthe King could be so blind. But whilst others spoke and urged him,\nwhilst we saw the light kindle in the monarch's eyes, and knew that\nher words had prevailed with him, she stood apart as one who\ndreams; and over her face there stole a strange, pale shadow,\nunlike anything I had seen there before. She saw nothing of the\nscene about her; heard no word of what passed. I think she did not\neven know what was meant by the great shout which suddenly went up\nwhen the King arose and declared, once and for all, that his mind\nwas made up, that he would march with the Maid to Rheims; that he\nwould not be daunted by the fact that in Troyes and in Chalons\nEnglish garrisons yet remained, which might give him trouble in\npassing. What the Maid had done before she could do again. All that\nhitherto she had promised had been fulfilled; the fear of her had\nfallen upon the English, and the terror of the English no longer\nweighed upon the spirits of the French. He would go, come what\nmight. He would trust in the power of the Maid to finish that which\nshe had begun.\n\nThe shouts and plaudits of the courtiers within the castle, and of\nthe soldiers without, when this thing was known, was evidence\nenough of the confidence and enthusiasm which the exploits of the\nMaid had awakened. Not a soldier who had followed her heretofore\nbut would follow her now, wherever she should lead them. Surely her\nheart must have swelled with joy and pride as she heard the clamour\nof frantic applause ringing through the place.\n\nBut when she was back in her own apartments, and I was able to\napproach her alone, I ventured to ask her something concerning her\nsilence of a short time back.\n\nI always think with a great pride and tender joy of the trust and\nfriendship which the Maid reposed in me, thereby doing me a vast\nhonour. I had often ridden beside her on our marches, especially in\nthe earlier days, when she had not so many to claim her words and\ncounsels. Methinks she had spoken to Bertrand, to me, and to Sir\nGuy de Laval with more freedom respecting her voices and her\nvisions than to any others, save, perhaps, the King himself, of\nwhom she had ever said she had revelations for his ear alone. She\nwould talk to us of things which for the most part she kept locked\naway in her own breast; and now when I did ask her what it was that\nhad robbed her cheek of its colour, and wrapped her in a strange\ntrance of grave musing, she passed her hand across her eyes, and\nthen looked at me full, with a strange intensity of gaze.\n\n\"If I only knew! If I only knew myself!\" she murmured.\n\n\"Did your voices speak to you, mistress mine? I have seen you fall\ninto such musing fits before this, when something has been\nrevealed; but then your eyes have been bright with joy--this time\nthey were clouded as with trouble.\"\n\n\"It was when the Duke spoke of other victories,\" she said,\ndreamily; \"I seemed to see before me a great confusion as of men\nfighting and struggling. I saw my white banner fluttering, as it\nwere, victoriously; and yet there was a darkness upon my spirit. I\nsaw blackness--darkness--confusion; there was battle and\nstrife--garments rolled in blood. My own white pennon was the\ncentre of some furious struggle. I could not see what it was, waves\nof black vapour rose and obscured my view. Then, in the midst of\nthe smoke and vapour, I saw a great pillar of fire, rising up as to\nthe very sky itself, and out of the fire flew a white dove. Then a\nvoice spoke--one of my own voices; but in tones different from any\nI have heard before--'Have courage, even to death, Jeanne,' it\nsaid, 'for we will still be with you.' Then everything faded once\nmore, and I heard only the shouting of the people, and knew that\nthe King had made his decision, and that he had promised to receive\nhis crown, which has waited for him so long.\"\n\nAs she spoke these last words, the cloud seemed to lift. Her own\nwonderful smile shone forth again.\n\n\"If this be so; if, indeed, the Dauphin shall be made King, what\nmatters that I be taken away? My work will end when the crown shall\nbe set upon his head. Then, indeed, my soul shall say: 'Lord, now\nlettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace.'\"\n\nHer face was suddenly transfigured--radiant--with some great and\nglorious thought. I was glad at heart to see that the shadow had\npassed entirely away. Only for a moment could any presage of\npersonal fear cloud the sweet serenity of the Maid's nature. And\nyet I went from her something troubled myself; for had I not reason\nto know what strange power she possessed of reading the future, and\nwhat did it mean, that confusion of battle, that intermingling of\nvictory and defeat, that darkness of smoke and blaze of fire, and\nthe white dove flying forth unscathed? I had heard too often the\nshouts of the infuriated English--\"We will take you and burn you,\nyou White Witch! You shall perish in the flames from whence the\ndevil, your father, has sent you forth!\"--not to hear with a\nshudder any vision of smoke and of fire. But again, had not the\nMaid ever prevailed in battle over her foes? Might she not laugh to\nscorn all such threats?\n\nAh me! It is well that we may not read the future, else how could\nwe bear the burden of life?\n\nJoyous and triumphant was the day upon which, after some inevitable\ndelays, we started forth--a goodly company in sooth--an army at our\nback, swelling with pride and triumph--to take our young King to\nthe appointed place, and see the crown of France there set upon his\nhead. From all quarters news was pouring in of the hopeless\ndisruption of the power of the English after the Chasse de Patay.\nTowns and villages which had submitted in sullen acquiescence\nbefore, now sent messages of loyalty and love to the King. Men\nflocked daily to join our standard as we marched. It was a sight to\nsee the villagers come forth, clad in their holiday dress, eager to\nsee and pay homage to the King, but yet more eager to look upon the\nwhite mailed figure at his side and shout aloud the name of THE\nMAID OF ORLEANS!\n\nFor the place of honour at the King's right hand was reserved for\nthe Maid, and she rode beside him without fear, without protest,\nwithout shame. Gentle, humble, and simple as she always was, she\nknew herself the Messenger of a greater King than that of France,\nand the honour done to her she accepted as done to her Lord, and\nnever faltered beneath it, as she was never puffed up or made\nhaughty or arrogant thereby. Nor did she ever lose her tenderness\nof heart, nor her quick observation of trivial detail in the\nabsorbing interests of her greatness.\n\nShe was the first to note signs of distress upon the part of the\nsoldiers, during this march in the midsummer heat. It was she who\nwould suggest a halt in the noontide, in some wooded spot, that\n\"her children\" might rest and refresh themselves, and it was she\nwho, never tired herself, would go amongst them, asking them of\ntheir well being, and bringing with her own hands some luscious\nfruit or some cooling draught to any soldier who might be suffering\nfrom the effects of the sun.\n\nShe who rode beside a King, who was the greatest and most renowned\nof that great company, would minister with her own hands to the\nhumblest of her followers; and if ever King or Duke or courtier\njested or remonstrated with her on the matter, her answer was\nalways something like this:\n\n\"They are my own people. I am one of them. At home when any was\nsick in the village, I was always sent for. And wherefore not now?\nI am the same as I was then. Soon I shall be going back to them, my\ntask accomplished. Wherefore should I not be their friend and\nsister still?\"\n\nThen all would laugh to think of the Maid of Orleans going back to\ntake up the life of a peasant again at Domremy; but the Maid's face\ngrew grave and earnest as she would make reply:\n\n\"Indeed, if my work for my King is accomplished, I would fain do\nso. I was so happy, so happy in my sweet home.\"\n\nBut now our triumphal march was suddenly brought to a halt; for we\nwere approaching the town of Troyes--a place of ill omen to France,\nand to the young King in particular, for there the shameful treaty\nwas signed which robbed him of his crown; and great was the\ndissension amongst the King's counsellors as to what should be\ndone.\n\nThe place was strong, the English garrison there large. A summons\nto surrender sent on in advance had been ignored, and now came the\nquestion--should the army pass on its way to Rheims leaving this\nplace in the rear unattacked and untaken, or should it run the risk\nof a long delay, and perhaps some peril and loss in attempting to\nreduce it?\n\nLa Hire and Dunois spoke out insistently. At all costs the town\nmust be taken. It would be folly and madness to leave such a\nstronghold of the enemy in the rear. Other places had fallen before\nthe victorious Maid, and why not this? The army would go anywhere\nwith her. The soldiers only desired to be told what she counselled,\nand to a man they would support her. They had lost all fear of the\nfoe, if only the Maid led them into battle, whether in the open or\nagainst massive walls.\n\nBut as usual the King's nearest counsellors were all for delay, for\navoiding battle, for retreat rather than risk. The Archbishop of\nRheims, instead of being eager to push on to the place which so far\nwas only his in name, for he had never been aught but titular\nArchbishop as yet, was always one with La Tremouille in advising\ncaution and a timid policy. Both were the enemies of the Maid,\njealous of her gifts and of her influence with the King, and\nfearful lest her power over him should grow and increase. They even\nplotted that she should be excluded from the council now sitting\nanent this very matter, and it was only when the King and the Duc\nd'Alencon, growing restless and impatient at her absence, desired\nher presence instantly, that she was sent for.\n\nThere was a grave dignity about her as she entered, which sat\nimpressively upon her young face, so fair and sweet and gentle. She\nknew that timid counsels were being held, and that she, the\nCommander-in-Chief of the army, was being set aside--the Messenger\nfrom the Lord was being ignored. Not for herself, but for Him was\nher spirit moved.\n\nThe Archbishop with much circumlocution told her of the difficulty\nin which the King's Council was placed, and would have discoursed\nfor long upon the situation, only that in his first pause the Maid\nspoke, addressing herself to the King:\n\n\"Shall I be believed if I speak my counsel?\" she asked.\n\n\"You will be believed according as you speak,\" answered the King,\nthoroughly uneasy, as he ever was, when torn in twain by the\nmultitude of counsellors with whom he must needs surround himself,\nthough his heart ever inclined towards the Maid.\n\n\"I speak that which my Lord gives me to speak,\" she answered, her\nwonderful eyes full upon the King. \"Shall I be believed?\"\n\n\"If you speak that which is reasonable and profitable, I will\ncertainly believe you,\" he answered, still uneasy beneath her look.\n\n\"Shall I be believed?\" she questioned a third time, and there was a\nfire in her eyes which seemed to leap out and scathe the\npusillanimous monarch as he sat quaking in his Council.\n\n\"Speak, Maiden,\" he cried out then, \"I at least will believe!\"\n\n\"Then, noble Dauphin,\" she cried, \"order your army to assault this\ncity of Troyes, where such despite has been done you, and hold no\nmore councils; for my Lord has told me that within three days I\nshall lead you into the town, and false Burgundy and proud England\nshall there be overthrown!\"\n\n\"Pouf!\" cried the Chancellor, one of the Maid's worst foes, \"if\nthere was a chance of doing such a thing in six days we would\nwillingly wait; but--\"\n\nHe stopped suddenly--none knew why, save that the Maid's eyes were\nfixed full upon him, and in those eyes was that strange shining\nlight which some of us knew so well. She did not speak to him, but\nwhen his voice suddenly wavered and broke, she addressed herself to\nthe King, speaking as one who repeats a message.\n\n\"You shall be master of the city of Troyes, noble Dauphin, not in\nsix days--but tomorrow.\"\n\nAnd even as she spoke, without waiting for any response, she turned\nand went forth, walking with her head well up, and her eyes fixed\nstraight before her, yet as one who walks in sleep, and pays no\nheed to what lies before him. She called for her horse; and leaping\ninto the saddle, rode out bareheaded in the summer sun to the camp\nwhere the soldiers lay, in doubt and wonderment at this delay; and\nas they sprang up to a man at sight of her, and broke into the\nacclamations which always greeted her appearance amongst them, she\nlifted up her clear ringing voice and cried:\n\n\"Be ready, my children, against the morrow, confess your sins, make\nyour peace with God and man. For tomorrow He will lead you\nvictorious into yonder frowning city, and not a hair of your heads\nshall suffer!\"\n\nThey crowded about her, filling the air with shouts of triumph;\nthey clamoured to be led at once against the grim frowning walls. I\nverily believe, had she put herself at their head then and there,\nthat nothing could have withstood the elan of their attack; but the\nMaid received her orders from a source we knew not of, and fleshly\npride never tempted her to swerve from the appointed path. She\nsmiled at the enthusiasm of the men, but she shook her head gently\nand firmly.\n\n\"Do my bidding, my children, confess yourselves and pray till set\nof sun. Then I will come to you and set you your appointed tasks,\nand tomorrow I will lead you into the city!\"\n\nThat night there was no sleep for the Maid or for her soldiers. At\nno time was it dark, for midsummer was over the land, and the moon\nhung in the sky like a silver lamp when the sun had set. The Maid\ncame forth as she had said with the last of the daylight, and at\nher command a great mound was speedily raised, of earth, brushwood,\nfaggots, stones--anything that the soldiers could lay hands upon;\nand when this hillock was of height sufficient to satisfy the young\nGeneral, the great guns were brought and set upon it in such\nmasterly fashion, and in such a commanding way, that La Hire,\nDunois and Xantrailles, who came to see, marvelled at it, and we\ncould note from the top of this earthwork that within the city\ngreat commotion reigned, and that it was as busy as a hive that has\nbeen disturbed.\n\nAs the first mystic glow of the summer's dawn kindled in the\neastern sky, the Maid stood, a white luminous figure in full\narmour, poised lightly on the top of one of our pieces of ordnance,\nher drawn sword in her hand, pointing full in the direction of the\ncity.\n\nI have heard since from those within that the anxious garrison and\ncitizens saw this motionless figure, and cried aloud in terror and\nawe. To them it seemed as though St. Michael himself had come down\nto fight against them, and terror stricken they ran to the\ngovernors of the city and implored that surrender might be made,\nere the heavens opened and rained lightnings down upon them.\n\nAnd thus it came about that ere the dawn had fairly come, an\nembassy was sent to the King and terms of surrender offered. The\nKing, from motives of policy or fear, the Maid, from pity and\ngenerosity, accepted the messengers graciously, and granted the\ngarrison leave to depart with their horses and their arms, if the\ntown were peacefully given up; and thus it came about that after\nthe King had finished his night's slumber, and the Maid had done\nher gracious part in redeeming and releasing the French prisoners,\nwhich, but for her, would have been carried away by the retiring\nEnglish and Burgundians, she rode beside the King, and at the head\nof the cheering and tumultuous army into the city of Troyes, which\nhad surrendered to the magic of her name without striking a blow.\n\n\"O my Chevaliere,\" cried the happy and triumphant monarch, as he\nturned to look into her grave serene face. \"What a wonderful Maid\nyou are! Stay always with me, Jeanne, and be my friend and General\nto my life's end.\"\n\nShe looked at him long and earnestly as she made answer:\n\n\"Alas, Sire, it may not be! For a year--perhaps for a year. But I\nshall last no longer than that!\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI. HOW THE MAID ACCOMPLISHED HER MISSION.\n\n\nShall I ever forget that evening? No, not if I live to be a\nhundred!\n\nJune had well-nigh passed ere we began our march from Gien--that\ntriumphant march headed by the King and the Maid--and July had run\nhalf its course since we had been upon the road. For we had had a\ngreat tract of country to traverse, and a large army must needs\nhave time in which to move itself.\n\nAnd now upon a glorious golden evening in that month of sunshine\nand summertide, we saw before us--shining in a floating mist of\nreflected glory--the spires and towers, the walls and gates of the\ngreat city of Rheims--the goal of our journeyings--the promised\nland of the Maid's visions and voices!\n\nWas it indeed a city of stone and wood which shone before us in the\nlevel rays of the sinking sun? I asked that question of myself;\nmethinks that the Maid was asking it in her heart; for when I\nturned my eyes upon her, I caught my breath in amaze at her aspect,\nand I know now what it is to say that I have looked upon the face\nof an angel!\n\nShe had dropped her reins, and they hung loose upon her horse's\nneck; her hands were clasped together in a strange rapture of\ndevotion. Her head was bare; for she often gave her headpiece to\nher page to carry for her, and in the evenings did not always\nreplace it by any other covering. Her hair had grown a little\nlonger during these months, and curled round her face in a loose\nhalo, which in the strong and ruddy light of the setting sun, shone\na glorious golden colour, as though a ray of heavenly light were\nenmeshed within it.\n\nBut it was the extraordinary brightness of those great luminous\neyes, the rapt and intense expression of her face which arrested my\nattention, and seemed for a moment to stop the triumphant beating\nof my heart. It was not triumph which I read there, though there\nwas joy and rapture and peace, beyond all power of understanding.\nIt was the face of one who sees heaven open, and in the wonder and\nawe of the beatific vision forgets all else, and feels not the\nfetters of the flesh, heeds not those things which must needs\nintervene ere the spirit can finally be loosed to enter upon\nblessedness and rest, but soars upwards at once into heavenly\nregions.\n\nThe town of Rheims lay before us. The inhabitants were pouring\nforth to meet us. We saw them coming over the plain, as we watched\nthe walls and buildings, glowing in the mystic radiance of the\nsummer's evening, loom up larger and grander and sharper before us.\nIt was no dream!\n\nAnd yet who would have thought it possible three months ago? In\nmid-April the iron grip of the English lay all over the land north\nof the Loire, and the south lay supine and helpless, stricken with\nthe terror of the victorious conqueror. Orleans was at its last\ngasp, and with its fall the last bulwark would be swept away; all\nFrance must own the sway of the conqueror. The King was powerless,\nindolent, ready to fly at the first approach of peril, with no hope\nand no desire for rule, doubtful even if he had the right to take\nupon himself the title of King, careless in his despair and his\ndifficulties. The army was almost non-existent; the soldiers could\nscarce be brought to face the foe. One Englishman could chase ten\nof ours. The horror as of a great darkness seemed to have fallen\nupon the land.\n\nAnd yet in three months' time what had not been accomplished!\n\nThe King was riding into the ancient city of Rheims, to be crowned\nKing of France; Orleans was relieved; a score of fortresses had\nbeen snatched from the hands of the English. These were fleeing\nfrom us in all directions back to Paris; where they hoped to make a\nstand against us, but were in mortal fear of attack; and now it was\nour soldiers who clamoured to be led against the English--the\nEnglish who fled helter-skelter before the rush and the dash of the\nmen whom heretofore they had despised.\n\nAnd all this was the work of yonder marvellous Maid--a girl of\nseventeen summers, who, clad in white armour, shining like an\nangelic vision, was riding at the King's side towards the city.\n\nHe turned and looked at her at the moment my gaze was thus\narrested, and I saw his face change. He put out his hand and\ntouched hers gently; but he had to touch her twice and to speak\ntwice ere she heard or knew.\n\n\"Jeanne--fairest maiden--what do you see?\"\n\nShe turned her gaze upon him--radiant, misty, marvellous.\n\n\"I see the Land of Promise,\" she answered, speaking very low, yet\nso clearly that I heard every word. \"The chosen of the Lord will go\nforward to victory. He will drive out the enemy before the face of\nhim upon whom He shall set the crown of pure gold. France shall\nprosper--her enemies shall be confounded. What matter whose the\nwork, or whose the triumph? What matter who shall fall ere the task\nbe accomplished--so that it be done according to the mind of the\nLord?\"\n\n\"And by the power of the Maid--the Deliverer!\" spoke the King, a\ngush of gratitude filling his heart, as he looked first at the\nslight figure and inspired face of the Maid, and then at the city\ntowards which we were riding, the faint clash of joy bells borne\nsoftly to our ears. \"For to you, O my General, I owe it all; and\nmay the Lord judge betwixt us twain if I share not every honour\nthat I may yet win with her who has accomplished this miracle!\"\n\nBut her gaze was full of an inexplicable mystery.\n\n\"Nay, gentle Dauphin, but that will not be,\" she said; \"One shall\nincrease, another shall decrease--hath it not ever been so? My task\nis accomplished. My work is done. Let another take my place after\ntomorrow, for my mission will be accomplished.\"\n\n\"Never!\" cried the King firmly and earnestly, and when I heard him\nthus speak my heart rejoiced; for I, no more than others, believed\nthat success could attend the King's further efforts without her\nwho was the inspiration of the army, and the worker of these great\nmiracles which had been wrought. How often have I wondered\nsince--but that is no part of my story. Let me tell those things\nwhich did happen to us.\n\nHow can I tell of our entry into Rheims? Have I not spoken in other\nplaces of other such scenes, often in the early dusk of evening,\nwhen whole cities flocked out to meet the Maid, to gaze in awe and\nwonder upon her, to kiss her hands, her feet, her knees, the neck\nand flanks of the horse she rode, and even his very footprints in\nthe road, as he moved along with his precious burden?\n\nAs it was there, so was it here--the same joy, the same wonder, the\nsame enthusiasm. The King was greeted with shouts and acclamations,\nit is true; but the greater admiration and wonder was reserved for\nthe Maid, and he knew it, and smiled, well pleased that it should\nbe so; for at that time his heart was full of a great gratitude and\naffection, and never did he seek to belittle that which she had\nwrought on his behalf.\n\nThankfulness, peace, and happiness shone in the eyes of the Maid as\nshe rode; but there was a nearer and more personal joy in store for\nher; for as we passed through the town, with many pauses on account\nof the greatness of the throng, pouring in and out of the churches\n(for it was the vigil of the Madelaine), or crowding about the King\nand the Maid, she chanced to lift her eyes to the windows of an inn\nin the place, and behold her face kindled with a look different\nfrom any I had seen there before, and she looked around for me, and\nbeckoning with her hand, she pointed upwards, and cried in tones of\nstrange delight and exultation:\n\n\"My father, fair knight, my father! I saw his face!\"\n\nNow, I knew that Jacques d'Arc had been greatly set against his\ndaughter's mission, and it had been declared that he had disowned\nher, and would have withheld her from going forth, had such a thing\nbeen within his power. She had never received any message of love\nor forgiveness from him all these weeks, though her two younger\nbrothers had joined the army, and were always included in her\nhousehold. So that I was not surprised at the kindling of her\nglance, nor at the next words she spoke.\n\n\"Go to him, my friend; tell him that I must needs have speech with\nhim. Ah, say that I would fain return home with him when my task is\ndone, if it be permitted me. Go, find him speedily, ere he can\nbetake himself away. My father! My father! I had scarce hoped to\nlook upon his face again!\"\n\nSo whilst the King and the Maid and their train rode on to the huge\nold palace of the Archeveche, hard by the Cathedral, I slipped out\nof my place in the ranks, and passed beneath the archway into the\ncourtyard of the old inn, where the Maid declared that she had seen\nthe face of her father looking forth.\n\nI had not much trouble in finding him; for already a whisper had\ngone forth that certain friends and relatives of the wonderful Maid\nhad journeyed from Domremy to witness her triumphant entry into\nRheims. Indeed, some of these had followed us from Chalons, all\nunknown to her, who would so gladly have welcomed them. Chalons,\nthough a fortified town, and with a hostile garrison, had opened\nits gates to us without resistance, feeling how hopeless it was to\nstrive against the power of the Maid.\n\nThe wonder and awe inspired by her presence, and by her marvellous\nachievements, had sunk deeply into the spirits of these simple\ncountry folk, who had only heretofore known Jeanne d'Arc as a\ngentle village maiden, beloved of all, but seeming not in any way\nseparated from her companions and friends. Now they had seen her,\nwhite and glistening, in martial array, riding beside a King, an\narmy at her back, acclaimed of the multitude, the idol of the hour,\na victor in a three months' campaign, the like of which never was\nbefore, and methinks can never be again.\n\nSo now, when I stood face to face with the rugged prud'homme, the\nfather of this wonderful Maid, and told him of her desire to speak\nwith him upon the morrow, when the King should have received his\ncrown, I saw that many emotions were struggling together in his\nbreast; for his soul revolted yet, in some measure, at the thought\nof his girl a leader of men, the head of an army, the friend of\nkings and courtiers, whilst it was impossible but that some measure\nof pride and joy should be his at the thought of her achievements,\nand in the assurance that at last the King, whom loyal little\nDomremy had ever served and loved, was to receive his crown, and be\nthe anointed sovereign of the land.\n\n\"She desires speech with me? She, whom I have seen riding beside\nthe King? What have I to do with the friends of royalty? How can\nshe consort with princes and with peasants?\"\n\n\"Let her show you that herself, my friend,\" I answered. \"We, who\nhave companied with her through these wonderful weeks, know well\nhow that she is no less a loving daughter, a friend of the people,\nfor being the friend of a King and the idol of an army. Give me\nsome message for her. She longs for a kind word from you. Let me\nonly take her word that you will see her and receive her as a\nfather should receive his child, and I trow that it will give her\nalmost the same joy as the knowledge that by her miraculous call\nshe has saved her country and crowned her King.\"\n\nI scarce know what answer Jacques d'Arc would have made, for he was\na proud, unbending man, and his face was sternly set whilst I\npleaded with him. But there were others from Domremy, entirely\nfilled with admiration of the Maid, and with desire to see her\nagain; and their voices prevailed, so that he gave the answer for\nwhich I waited. He would remain at the inn over the morrow of the\ngreat function of the coronation, and would receive his daughter\nthere, and have speech with her.\n\n\"Tell her that I will take her home with me, if she will come,\" he\nspoke; \"for she herself did say that her work would be accomplished\nwhen the crown was placed upon the King's head. Let her be true to\nher word; let her return home, and become a modest maiden again\nbeneath her mother's care, and all shall be well betwixt us. But if\npride and haughtiness possess her soul, and she prefers the company\nof courtiers and soldiers to that of her own people, and the life\nof camps to the life of home, then I wash my hands of her. Let her\ngo her own way. She shall no longer be daughter of mine!\"\n\nI did not tell those words to the Maid. My lips refused to speak\nthem. But I told her that her father would remain in the place till\nshe had leisure to have speech with him; and her eyes kindled with\njoy at hearing such news, for it seemed to her as though this would\nbe the pledge of his forgiveness, the forgiveness for which she had\nlonged, and for the lack of which none of her triumphs could\naltogether compensate.\n\nThere was no sleep for the city of Rheims upon that hot summer's\nnight. Although the coming of the King had been rumoured for some\ntime, it had never been fully believed possible till news had been\nbrought of the fall of Troyes, and the instant submission of\nChalons. Then, and only then, did citizens and prelates truly\nrealise that the talked-of ceremony could become an accomplished\nfact, and almost before they had recovered from their amazement at\nthe rapidity of the march of events, courtiers brought in word that\nthe King and his army were approaching.\n\nSo all night long the people were hard at work decorating their\ncity, their churches, above all their Cathedral; and the priests\nand prelates were in close conference debating what vestments, what\nvessels, what rites and ceremonies should be employed, and how the\nlack of certain necessary articles, far away at St. Denis, could be\nsupplied out of the rich treasuries of the Cathedral.\n\nAs the dawn of the morning brightened in the east, the sun rose\nupon a scene of such splendour and magnificence as perhaps has\nseldom been witnessed at such short notice. The whole city seemed\none blaze of triumphal arches, of summer flowers, of costly stuffs\nand rich decoration. Every citizen had donned his best and\nbrightest suit; the girls and children had clothed themselves in\nwhite, and crowned themselves with flowers. Even the war-worn\nsoldiers had polished their arms, furbished up their clothes, and\nborrowed or bought from the townsfolk such things as were most\nlacking; and now, drawn up in array in the great square, with\ntossing banners, and all the gay panoply of martial glory, they\nlooked like some great victorious band--as, indeed, they\nwere--celebrating the last act of a great and wonderful triumph.\n\nAs for the knights, nobles, and courtiers, one need not speak of\nthe outward glory of their aspect--the shining armour, the gay\ndresses, the magnificent trappings of the sleek horses--that can\nwell be pictured by those who have ever witnessed a like brilliant\nscene.\n\nBut for the first part of the day, with its many and varied\nceremonies, there was lacking the shining figure of the Maid; nor\ndid the King himself appear. But forth from the Palace of the\nArcheveche rode four of the greatest and most notable peers of the\nrealm, attended by a gorgeous retinue; and with banners waving, and\ntrumpets blowing great martial blasts, they paced proudly through\nthe streets, between the closely-packed ranks of soldiers and\ncitizens, till they reached the ancient Abbey of Sainte Remy, where\nthe monks of Sainte Ampoule guard within their shrine the holy oil\nof consecration, in that most precious vial which, they said, was\nsent down from heaven itself for the consecration of King Clovis\nand his successors.\n\nUpon bended knees and with bared heads these great peers of France\nthen took their solemn oath that the sacred vial should never leave\ntheir sight or care, night or day, till it was restored to the\nkeeping of the shrine from which the Abbot was about to take it.\nThen, and only then, would the Abbot, clothed in his most sumptuous\nvestments, and attended by his robed monks, take from its place that\nholy vessel, and place it in the hands of the messengers--Knights\nHostages, as they were termed for the nonce--and as they carried it\nslowly and reverently forth, and retraced their steps to the Cathedral,\naccompanied now by the Abbot and monks, every knee was bent and every\nhead bowed.\n\nBut all the while that this ceremony was taking place, the Maid was\nshut up in her room in the Palace, dictating a letter of appeal to\nthe Duke of Burgundy, and praying him in gentle, yet authoritative\nterms, to be reconciled to his King, join hands with him against\nthe English foe, and then, if need there were to fight, to turn his\narms against the Saracens, instead of warring with his brethren and\nkinsmen. I trow that this thing was urged upon her at this time, in\nthat she believed her mission so nearly accomplished, and that soon\nshe would have no longer right to style herself \"Jeanne the Maid,\"\nand to speak with authority to princes and nobles.\n\nAs yet she was the appointed messenger of Heaven. Her words and\nacts all partook of that almost miraculous character which they had\nborne from the first. I will not quote the letter here; but it is\nwrit in the page of history; and I ask of all scholars who peruse\nits words, whether any village maiden of but seventeen years,\nunlettered, and ignorant of statecraft, could of herself compose so\nlofty and dignified an appeal, or speak with such serene authority\nto one who ranked as well-nigh the equal of kings. It was her last\nact ere she donned her white armour, and passed forth from her\nchamber to take part in the ceremony of the coronation. In some\nsort it was the last of her acts performed whilst she was yet the\ndeliverer of her people.\n\nWhen I looked upon those words, long after they had been penned, I\nfelt the tears rising in mine eyes. I could have wept tears of\nblood to think of the fate which had befallen one whose thoughts\nwere ever of peace and mercy, even in the hour of her supremest\ntriumph.\n\nHow can my poor pen describe the wonders of the great scene, of\nwhich I was a spectator upon that day? Nay, rather will I only seek\nto speak of the Maid, and how she bore herself upon that great\noccasion. She would have been content with a very humble place in\nthe vast Cathedral today; she had no desire to bear a part in the\npageant which had filled the city and packed the great edifice from\nend to end.\n\nBut the King and the people willed it otherwise. The thing which\nwas about to be done was the work of the Maid, and she must be\nthere to see all, and the people should see her, too--see her close\nto the King himself, who owed to her dauntless courage and devotion\nthe crown he was about to assume, the realm he had begun to\nconquer.\n\nSo she stood near at hand to him all through that long, impressive\nceremony--a still, almost solemn figure in her silver armour, a\nlong white velvet mantle, embroidered in silver, flowing from her\nshoulders, her hand grasping the staff of her great white banner,\nwhich had been borne into the Cathedral by D'Aulon, and beside\nwhich she stood, her hand upon the staff.\n\nShe was bareheaded, and the many-coloured lights streamed in upon\nher slim, motionless figure, and the face which she lifted in\nadoration and thanksgiving. I trow that none in that vast assembly,\nwho could see her as she thus stood, doubted but that she stood\nthere the accredited messenger of the Most High. The light from\nHeaven itself was shining on her upturned face, the reflection of\nan unearthly glory beamed in her eyes. From time to time her lips\nmoved, as though words of thanksgiving broke silently forth; but\nsave for that she scarcely moved all through the long and solemn\nceremony. Methinks that she saw it rather in the spirit than in the\nflesh; and the knights and nobles who had poured in from the\nsurrounding country to witness this great function, and had not\ncompanied with the Maid before, but had only heard of her fame from\nafar, these regarded her with looks of wonder and of awe, and\nwhispering together, asked of each other whether in truth she were\na creature of flesh and blood, or whether it were not some angelic\npresence, sent down direct from Heaven.\n\nAnd so at last the King was anointed and crowned! The blare of the\nthousand trumpets, the acclamations of a vast multitude proclaimed\nthe thing done! Charles the Seventh stood before his people, their\nKing, in fact as well as in name.\n\nThe work of the Maid was indeed accomplished!\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII. HOW THE MAID WAS PERSUADED.\n\n\nThe ceremony was over. The Dauphin stood in our midst a crowned and\nanointed King. We were back in the great hall of the Archeveche,\nand the thunders of triumphant applause which had been restrained\nwithin the precincts of the sacred edifice now broke forth again,\nand yet again, in long bursts of cheering, which were echoed from\nwithout by the multitudes in the street and great square Place, and\ncame rolling through the open windows in waves of sound like the\nbeating of the surf upon the shore.\n\nThe King stood upon a raised dais; his chiefest nobles and peers\naround him. He was magnificently robed, as became so great an\noccasion, and for the first time that I had ever seen, he looked an\nimposing and a dignified figure. Something there was of true\nkingliness in his aspect. It seemed as though the scene through\nwhich he had passed had not been without effect upon his nature,\nand that something regal had been conveyed to him through the\nsolemnities which had just taken place.\n\nThe Maid was present also; but she had sought to efface herself in\nthe crowd, and stood thoughtfully apart in an embrasure of the\nwall, half concealed by the arras, till the sound of her name,\nproclaimed aloud in a hundred different tones, warned her that\nsomething was required of her, and she stepped forward with a\nquestioning look in her startled eyes, as though just roused from\nsome dream.\n\nShe had been one of the first to prostrate herself at the new-made\nKing's feet when the coronation ceremony was over; and the tears\nstreaming down her face had been eloquent testimony of her deep\nemotion. But she had only breathed a few broken words of devotion\nand of joy, and had added something in a choked whisper which none\nbut he had been able to hear.\n\n\"The King calls for the Maid! The King desires speech with the\nMaid!\" such was the word ringing through the hall; and she came\nquietly forth from her nook, the crowd parting this way and that\nbefore her, till she was walking up through a living avenue to the\nplace where the King was now seated upon a throne-like chair on the\ndais at the far end of the hall.\n\nAs she came towards him the King extended his hand, as though he\nwould meet her still rather as friend than as subject; but she\nkneeled down at his feet, and pressing her lips to the extended\nhand, she spoke in a voice full of emotion:\n\n\"Gentle King, now is the pleasure of God fulfilled towards you. Now\nis the will of my Lord accomplished. To Him alone be the praise and\nglory! It was His will that I should be sent before you to raise\nthe siege of Orleans, to lead you to this city of Rheims, there to\nreceive your consecration. Now has He shown to all the world that\nyou are the true King--that it is His will you should reign over\nthis fair realm, that this kingdom of France belongs to you and you\nalone. My task is now accomplished. His will in me is fulfilled. Go\nforward, then, noble King--strong in the power of your kingly might\nand right, doubting not that He will aid you still; though He will\nwork with other instruments, with other means, for my task in this\nis now accomplished!\"\n\nThere was a little stir and thrill throughout the hall as these\nwords were spoken. Dismay fell upon many, wonder upon all, triumph\ngleamed from the eyes of a few; but most men looked one at the\nother in consternation. What did she mean by these words?--this\nHeaven-sent Maid to whom we owed so much? Surely she did not think\nto leave us just in the hour of her supreme triumph? How could we\nhope to lead on the armies to fresh victories, if the soldiers were\ntold that the Maid would no longer march with them? Who would\ndirect us with heavenly counsel, or with that marvellous clearness\nof vision which is given only to a few in this sinful world, and to\nthose only whose hearts are consecrated by a great devotion, and a\ngreat love? She could not mean that! She loved France with an\noverwhelming fervour. She was devoted to the service of the King,\nin whom she had never been able or willing to see wrong. She knew\nher power with the army; she loved the rough soldiers who followed\nher unshrinkingly in the teeth of the very fiercest perils, and who\nwould answer to her least command, when they would obey none other\ngeneral.\n\nO no, she could not think of deserting France in this her hour of\nneed! Much had been done; but much yet remained to do. If she were\nto quit her post, there could be no telling what might not follow.\nThe English, cowed and bewildered now, might well pluck up heart of\ngrace, and sweep back through the country once owning their sway,\ndriving all foes before them as in the days of old. The victories\nwon in these last weeks might soon be swallowed up in fresh defeat\nand disaster. How could we expect it to be otherwise if the\npresence of the Maid were withdrawn?\n\nThese and a hundred other questions and conjectures were buzzing\nthrough the great hall. Wonder and amaze was on every face. The\nKing himself looked grave for a moment; but then his smile shone\nout carelessly gay and confident. He looked down at the Maid, and\nthere was tender friendliness in his glance. He spoke nothing to\nher at the first as to what she had said; he merely asked of her a\nquestion.\n\n\"My Chevaliere, my guardian angel, tell me this, I pray. You have\ndone all these great things for me; what am I to do in return for\nyou?\"\n\nShe raised her eyes towards him, and the light sprang into\nthem--that beautiful, fearless light which shone there when she led\nher soldiers into battle.\n\n\"Go forward fearlessly, noble King. Go forward in the power of your\nanointing; and fear nothing. That is all I ask of you. Do that, and\nyou will give to me my heart's desire.\"\n\n\"We will talk of that later, Jeanne,\" he answered, \"I have many\nthings to speak upon that matter yet. But today I would ask you of\nsomething different. You have done great things for me; it is not\nfitting that you should refuse to receive something at my hands.\nThis day I sit a King upon my father's throne. Ask of me some gift\nand grace for yourself--I your King and your friend demand it of\nyou!\"\n\nIt was spoken in a right kingly and gracious fashion, and we all\nheld our breath to listen for the answer the Maid should give. We\nhad known her so long and so well, and we had learned how little\nshe desired for herself, how hard it was to induce her to express\nany wish for her own gratification. She was gentle and gracious in\nher acceptance of the gifts received from friends who had furnished\nher from the beginning with such things as were needful for her\naltered life; but she had ever retained her simplicity of thought\nand habit; and though often living in the midst of luxury and\nextravagance, she was never touched by those vices herself. And now\nshe was bidden to ask a boon; and she must needs do it, or the\ndispleasure of the King would light upon her.\n\nHe had raised her to her feet by this time, and she stood before\nhim, a slim boy-like figure in her white point-device dress, her\ncheeks a little flushed, her slender fingers tightly entwined, the\nbreath coming and going through her parted lips.\n\n\"Gentle King,\" she answered, and her low full voice thrilled\nthrough the hall to its farthermost end in the deep hush which had\nfallen upon it, \"there is one grace and gift that I would right\ngladly ask of you. Here in this city of Rheims are assembled a few\nof mine own people from Domremy; my father, my uncle, and with them\nsome others whom I have known and loved from childhood. I would ask\nthis thing of you, noble King. Give me at your royal pleasure a\ndeed, duly signed and sealed by your royal hand, exempting the\nvillage of Domremy, where I was born, from all taxes such as are\nlevied elsewhere throughout the realm. Let me have this deed to\ngive to those who have come to see me here, and thus when I return\nwith them to my beloved childhood's home, I shall be witness to the\njoy and gladness which such a kingly boon will convey. Grant me\nthis--only this, gentle King, and you will grant me all my heart\ndesires!\"\n\nThe King spoke aside a few words to one of those who stood about\nhim, and this person silently bowed and quitted the hail; then he\nturned once more to the Maid, standing before him still with a\nhappy and almost childlike smile playing over her lips.\n\n\"The thing shall be done, Jeanne,\" he said; \"and it shall be done\nright soon. The first deed to which I set my hand as King shall be\nthe one which shall for ever exempt Domremy from all taxation. You\nshall give it to your father this very day, to take home with him\nwhen he goes. But as for those other words of yours--what did you\nmean by them? How can you witness the joy of a distant village,\nwhen you will be leading forward the armies of France to fresh\nvictories?\"\n\nHe gazed searchingly into her face as he spoke; and she looked back\nat him with a sudden shrinking in her beautiful eyes.\n\n\"Sire,\" she faltered--and anything like uncertainty in that voice\nwas something new to us--\"of what victories do you speak? I have\ndone my part. I have accomplished that which my Lord has set me to\ndo. My task ends here. My mission has been fulfilled. I have no\ncommand from Him to go forward. I pray you let me return home to my\nmother and my friends.\"\n\n\"Nay, Jeanne, your friends are here,\" spoke the King gravely, \"and\nyour country is your mother. Would you neglect to hear her cry to\nyou in the hour of her need? Her voice it was that called you forth\nfrom your obscurity; she calls you yet. Will you cease to hear and\nto obey?\"\n\nThe trouble and perplexity deepened in the eyes of the Maid.\n\n\"My voices have not bidden me to go forward,\" she faltered.\n\n\"Have they bidden you to go back--to do no more for France?\"\n\n\"No,\" she answered, throwing back her head, her eyes kindling once\nagain with ardour; \"they have not bidden me return, or I would have\ndone it without wavering. They tell me nothing, save to be of a\ngood heart and courage. They promise to be with me--my saints, whom\nI love. But they give me no commands. I see not the path before me,\nas I have seen it hitherto. That is why I say, let me go home. My\nwork is done; I have no mission more. Shall I take upon me that\nwhich my Lord puts not upon me--whether it be honour or toil or\npain?\"\n\n\"Yes, Jeanne, you shall take that upon you which your country calls\nupon you to take, which your King puts upon you, which even your\nsaints demand of you, though perchance with no such insistence as\nbefore, since that is no longer needed. Can you think that the mind\nof the Lord has changed towards me and towards France? Yet you must\nknow as well as I and my Generals do, that without you to lead them\nagainst the foe, the soldiers will waver and tremble, and perchance\nturn their backs upon our enemies once more. You they will follow\nto a man; but will they follow others when they know that you have\ndeserted them? You tell me to go forward and be of good courage.\nHow can I do this if you turn back, and take with you the hearts of\nmy men?\"\n\n\"Sire, I know not that such would be the case,\" spoke the Maid\ngravely. \"You stand amongst them now as their crowned and anointed\nKing. What need have they of other leader? They have followed me\nheretofore, waiting for you; but now--\"\n\n\"Now they will want you more than ever, since you have ever led\nthem to victory!\" cried the King; and raising his voice and looking\nabout him, especially to those generals and officers of his staff\nwho had seen so much of the recent events of the campaign, he cried\nout:\n\n\"What say you, gentlemen? What is our chance to drive away the\nEnglish and become masters of this realm if the MAID OF ORLEANS\ntake herself away from us, and the soldiers no longer see her\nstandard floating before them, or hear her voice cheering them to\nthe battle?\"\n\nSome of those present looked sullenly on the ground, unwilling to\nown that the Maid was a power greater than any other which could be\nbrought into the field; but there were numbers of other and greater\nmen, who had never denied her her meed of praise, though they had\nthwarted her at times in the council room; and these with one\naccord declared that should the Maid betake herself back to\nDomremy, leaving the army to its fate, they would not answer for\nthe effect which this desertion would have, but would, in fact,\nalmost expect the melting away of the great body of the trained\nsoldiers and recruits who had fought with her, and had come to\nregard her presence with them as the essential to a perfect\nvictory.\n\nBut we were destined to have a greater testimony than this, for a\nwhisper of what was passing within the great hall had now filtered\nforth into the streets, and all in a moment we were aware of a\nmighty tumult and hubbub without, a clamour of voices louder and\nmore insistent than those which had hailed the King a short time\nbefore, and the words which seemed to form themselves out of the\nclamour and gradually grow into the burden of the people's cry was\nthe repeated and vehement shout, \"THE MAID OF ORLEANS! THE MAID OF\nORLEANS! We will fight if the Maid goes with us--without her we be\nall dead men!\"\n\nThey came and told us what the crowd of soldiers in the street was\nshouting; they begged that the Maid would show herself at some\nwindow, and promise that she would remain with the army. Indeed,\nthere was almost a danger of riot and disaster if something were\nnot done to quell the excitement of the soldiery and the populace;\nand at this news the Maid suddenly drew her slender, drooping\nfigure to its full height, and looked long and steadfastly at the\nKing.\n\n\"Sire,\" she said, \"I give myself to you and to France. My Lord\nknows that I seek in this to do His will, though differently from\nheretofore. You will be disappointed. Many will misjudge me. There\nwill be sorrow and anguish of heart as well as triumph and joy. But\nif my country calls, I go forth gladly to meet her cry--even though\nI go to my death!\"\n\nI do not know how many heard her last words; for they were drowned\nin the roar of joyful applause which followed her declaration. The\nKing gave her his hand, and led her forth upon a balcony, where the\ngreat concourse in the street below could see them; and by signs he\nmade them understand that she would continue with him as one of his\nCommanders-in-Chief; and in hearing this the city well nigh went\nmad with joy; bonfires blazed and bells pealed madly; and the cry\nheard in the streets was less \"Long live the King!\" than that other\nfrantic shout, \"THE MAID OF ORLEANS! THE MAID OF ORLEANS!\"\n\nBut the Maid returned to her apartments with a strange look upon\nher face; and she held out her hand to me as one who would fain ask\nhelp and sympathy of a trusted comrade, as I am proud to think I\nwas regarded at that time by her.\n\n\"The King's word has prevailed, O my friend,\" she said, \"but I\nwould that I were sure it will be for the best!\"\n\n\"How can it be otherwise than for the best?\" I answered as I held\nher hand in mine, and looked searchingly into her fair, grave face.\n\"Will not your Lord help you yet? Do not all men trust in you? Will\nnot the soldiers fight for and with you? And are you not sure in\nyour heart that the cause of the French King will yet triumph?\"\n\nHer eyes were misty with unshed tears as she made reply:\n\n\"I know that my Lord will not desert me; and I trust I may serve\nHim yet, and the King whom I love. I know that all will be well--at\nthe last--for this fair realm of France. But I have no commission\ndirect from my Lord as I have had hitherto. My voices yet speak\ngentle and kindly words. I trow that my saints will watch over me,\nand that they will give me strength to strive and to overcome. For\nmyself I fear not--I am ready to die for my King and my country if\nthat be the will of God. Only the shadow lies athwart my path,\nwhere until today all was brightness and sunshine. It would have\nbeen so sweet to go home to my mother, to see the Fairy Tree, and\nthe old familiar faces, and listen once more to the Angelus bell! I\nhad thought that I should by this have earned my rest. I had not\nthought that with so many to serve him, the King would have had\nfurther use for me.\"\n\n\"Yet how could it be otherwise, my General, when the soldiers will\nfollow you alone?--when all look to you as their champion and their\nfriend?\"\n\n\"Nay, but I have enemies too,\" she answered sadly, \"and I know that\nthey will work me ill--greater ill in the future than they have had\npower to do heretofore, when I was watched over and guarded for the\ntask that was set me. That task is now accomplished. Can I look to\nreceive the same protection as before? The Lord may have other\ninstruments prepared to carry on His work of deliverance. I doubt\nnot that He will use me yet, and that I shall never be forsaken;\nbut my time will not be long. I shall only last a year. Let the\nKing use me for all that I am worth!--after that he must look for\nothers to aid him!\"\n\nI could not bear to hear her speak so. I would have broken in with\nprotestations and denials; but something in the look upon her face\nsilenced me. My heart sank strangely within me, for had I not\nlearned to know how truly the Maid did read that which the future\nhid from our eyes? I could only seek to believe that in this she\nmight be mistaken, since she herself did say how that things were\nsomething different with her now.\n\nShe seemed to read the thoughts that crowded my brain; for she\nlooked into my face with her tender, far-seeing smile.\n\n\"You are sad, my kind friend, my faithful knight, and sometimes\nmine own heart is sad also. But yet why should we fear? I know that\nI have enemies, and I know that they will have more power to hurt\nme in the times that are coming, than has been permitted hitherto,\nyet--\"\n\nWith an uncontrollable impulse I flung myself at her feet.\n\n\"O my General--O my dear lady--speak not such things--it breaks my\nheart. Or if, indeed, the peril be so great, then let all else go,\nand bid your father to take you back to Domremy with him. There, at\nleast, you will be safe and happy!\"\n\nHer eyes were deep with the intensity of her emotion.\n\n\"It may not be,\" she said with grave gentleness and decision. \"I\nhad hoped it for myself, but it may not be. My word is pledged. My\nKing has commanded. I, too, must learn, in my measure, the lesson\nof obedience, even unto death!\"\n\nHer hands were clasped; her eyes were lifted heavenwards. A shaft\nof light from the sinking sun struck in through the coloured window\nbehind her, and fell across her face with an indescribable glory. I\nwas still upon my knees and I could not rise, for it seemed to me\nas though at that moment another Presence than that of the Maid was\nwith us in the room. My limbs shook. My heart seemed to melt within\nme; and yet it was not fear which possessed me, but a mysterious\nrapture the like of which I can in no wise fathom.\n\nHow long it lasted I know not. The light had faded when I rose to\nmy feet and met her wonderful gaze. She spoke just a few words.\n\n\"Now you know what help is given us in our hours of need. My\nfaithful knight need never mourn or weep for me; for that help and\ncomfort will never be withheld. Of this I have the promise clear\nand steadfast!\"\n\nI was with her when she went to see her father. It was dark, and\nthe old man sat with his brother-in-law, Durand Laxart--he who had\nhelped her to her first interview with De Baudricourt--in one of\nthe best rooms of the inn. Since it had been known that these men\nwere the kinsfolk of the Maid, everything of the best had been put\nat their disposal by the desire of the citizens, and horses had\nbeen provided for them for their return to Domremy. For the city of\nRheims was filled with joy at that which had been accomplished, and\nthe Maid was the hero of the hour.\n\nBut I could see that there was a cloud upon the old man's face--the\nfather's; and he did not rise as his daughter entered--she before\nwhom nobles had learnt to bend, and who sat at the Council of the\nKing. His sombre eyes dwelt upon her with a strange expression in\ntheir depths. His rugged face was hard; his knotted hands were\nclosely locked together.\n\nThe Maid gazed at him for a moment, a world of tender emotions in\nher eyes; and then she quickly crossed the room and threw herself\nat his feet.\n\n\"My father! My father! My father!\"\n\nThe cry seemed to come from her heart, and I saw the old man's face\nquiver and twitch; but he did not touch or embrace her.\n\n\"It is the dress he cannot bear,\" whispered Laxart distressfully to\nme, \"it is as gall and wormwood to him to see his daughter go about\nin the garb of a man.\"\n\nThe Maid's face was raised in tender entreaty; she had hold of her\nfather's hands by now. She was covering them with kisses.\n\n\"O my father, have you no word for me? Have you not yet forgiven\nyour little Jeanne? I have but obeyed our Blessed Lord and His holy\nSaints. And see how they have helped and blessed and guided me! O\nmy father, can you doubt that I was sent of them for this work? How\nthen could I refuse to do it?\"\n\nThen the stern face seemed to melt with a repressed tenderness, and\nthe father bent and touched the girl's brow with his lips. She\nuttered a little cry of joy, and would have flung herself into his\narms; but he held her a little off, his hands upon her shoulders,\nand he looked into her face searchingly.\n\n\"That may have been well done, my daughter; I will not say, I will\nnot judge. But your task is now accomplished--your own lips have\nsaid it; and yet you still are to march with the King's army, I am\ntold. You love better the clash of arms, the glory of victory, the\ncompanionship of soldiers and courtiers to the simple duties which\nawait you at home, and the protection of your mother's love. That\nis not well. That is what no modest maiden should choose. I had\nhoped and believed that I should take my daughter home with me. But\nshe has chosen otherwise. Do I not well to be angry?\"\n\nThe Maid's face was buried in her hands. She would have buried it\nin her father's breast, but he would not have it so.\n\nI could have wept tears myself at the sight of her sorrow. I saw\nhow utterly impossible it would be to make this sturdy peasant\nunderstand the difficulty of the Maid's position, and the claims\nupon her great abilities, her mysterious influence upon the\nsoldiers. The worthy prud'homme would look upon this as rather a\ndishonour and disgrace than a gift from Heaven.\n\nThe words I longed to speak died away upon my tongue. I felt that\nto speak them would be a waste of breath. Moreover, I was here as a\nspectator, not as a partaker in this scene. I held the document,\nsigned and sealed by the King, which I was prepared to read to the\nvisitors from Domremy. That was to be my share in this interview--not\nto interpose betwixt father and child.\n\nFor a few moments there was deep silence in the room; then the Maid\ntook her hands from her face, and she was calm and tranquil once\nagain. She possessed herself of one of her father's reluctant\nhands.\n\n\"My father, I know that this thing is hard for you to understand.\nIt may be that my brothers could explain it better than I, had you\npatience to hear them. But this I say, that I long with an\nunspeakable desire to return home with you, for I know that the\npath I must tread will darken about me, and that the end will be\nsad and bitter. And yet I may not choose for myself. My King\ncommands. My country calls. I must needs listen to those voices.\nOh, forgive me that I may not follow yours, nor the yearnings of\nmine own heart!\"\n\nThe old man dropped her hand and turned away. He spoke no word; I\nthink perchance his heart was touched by the tone of the Maid's\nvoice, by the appealing look in her beautiful eyes. But he would\nnot betray any sign of weakness. He turned away and leant his brow\nupon the hand with which he had grasped the high-carved ledge of\nthe panelled shelf beside him. The Maid glanced at him, her lips\nquivering; and she spoke again in a brighter tone.\n\n\"And yet, my father, though you may not take me back with you, you\nshall not go away empty-handed. I have that to send home with you\nwhich shall, I trust, rejoice the hearts of all Domremy; and if you\nfind it hard to forgive that which your child has been called upon\nto do, yet methinks there will be others to bless her name and pray\nfor her, when they learn that which she has been able to\naccomplish.\"\n\nThen she made a little sign to me, and I stepped forward with the\nparchment, signed and sealed, and held it towards the Maid's\nfather. He turned to look at me, and his eyes widened in wonder and\nsome uneasiness; for the sight of so great a deed filled him and\nhis kinsman with a vague alarm.\n\n\"What is it?\" he asked, turning full round, and I made answer:\n\n\"A deed signed by the King, exempting Domremy from all taxation,\nhenceforward and for ever, by right of the great and notable\nservices rendered to the realm by one born and brought up\nthere--Jeanne d'Arc, now better known as THE MAID OF ORLEANS.\"\n\nThe two men exchanged wondering glances, and over Laxart's face\nthere dawned a smile of intense joy and wonder.\n\n\"Nay, but this is a wonderful thing--a miracle--the like of which\nwas never heard or known before! I pray you, noble knight, let me\ncall hither those of our kinsfolk and acquaintance from Domremy as\nhave accompanied us hither, that they may hear and understand this\nmarvellous grace which hath been done us!\"\n\nI was glad enough that all should come and hear that which I read\nto them from the great document, explaining every phrase that was\nhard of comprehension. It was good to see how all faces glowed and\nkindled, and how the people crowded about the Maid with words of\ngratitude and blessing.\n\nOnly the father stood a little apart, sorrowful and stern. And yet\nI am sure that his heart, though grieved, was not altogether\nhardened against his child; for when at the last, with tears in her\neyes (all other farewells being said), she knelt at his feet\nbegging his blessing and forgiveness, he laid his hand upon her\nhead for a moment, and let her embrace his knees with her arms.\n\n\"Go your way, my girl, if needs must be. Your mother will ever pray\nfor you, and I trust the Lord whom you serve will not leave you,\nthough His ways are too hard of understanding for me.\"\n\nThat was all she could win from him; but her heart was comforted, I\nthink; for as she reached her lodging and turned at the door of her\nroom to thank me in the gracious way she never forgot, for such\npoor services as I had rendered, she said in a soft and happy\nvoice:\n\n\"I think that in his heart my father hath forgiven me!\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII. HOW I LAST SAW THE MAID.\n\n\nI had thought, when I started, to tell the whole tale of the\nAngelic Maid and all the things which she accomplished, and all\nthat we who companied with her did and saw, both of success and of\nfailure. But now my brain and my pen alike refuse the task. I must\nneeds shorten it. I think my heart would well nigh break a second\ntime, if I were to seek to tell all that terrible tale which the\nworld knows so well by now.\n\nAh me! Ah me!--what a world is this wherein we live, in which such\nthings can be! I wake sometimes even yet in the night, a cold sweat\nupon my limbs, my heart beating to suffocation, a terror as of\ngreat darkness enfolding my spirit.\n\nAnd is it wonderful that it should be so? Can any man pass through\nsuch experiences as mine, and not receive a wound which time can\nnever wholly heal? And though great things have of late been done,\nand the Pope and his Court have swept away all such stain and taint\nas men sought to fasten upon the pure nature of the wonderful and\nmiraculous Maid, we who lived through those awful days, and heard\nand saw the things which happened at that time, can never forget\nthem, and (God pardon me if I sin in this) never forgive. There are\nmen, some living still, and some passed to their last account, whom\nI would doom to the nethermost hell for their deeds in the days of\nwhich I must now write--though my words will be so few. And (with\nhorror and shame be it spoken) many of these men were consecrated\nservants of the Holy Church, whose very office made the evil of\ntheir deeds to stand out in blacker hues.\n\nIt is easy for us to seek to fasten the blame of all upon the\nEnglish, who in the end accomplished the hideous task; but at least\nthe English were the foes against whom she had fought, and they had\nthe right to hold her as an adversary whose death was necessary for\ntheir success; and had the English had their way she would have met\nher end quickly, and without all that long-drawn-out agony and\nmockery of a trial, every step and process of which was an outrage\nupon the laws of God and of man. No, it was Frenchmen who doomed\nher to this--Frenchmen and priests. The University of Paris, the\nofficers of the Inquisition, the Bishops of the realm. These it was\nwho formed that hideous Court, whose judgments have now been set\naside with contumely and loathing. These it was who after endless\nformalities, against which even some of themselves were forced in\nhonour to protest, played so base and infamous a part--culminating\nin that so-called \"Abjuration,\" as false as those who plotted for\nit--capped by their own infamous trick to render even that\n\"Abjuration\" null and void, that she might be given up into the\nhands of those who were thirsting for her life!\n\nOh, how can I write of it? How can I think of it? There be times\nyet when Bertrand, and Guy de Laval, and I, talking together of\nthose days, feel our hearts swell, and the blood course wildly in\nour veins, and truly I do marvel sometimes how it was that we and\nothers were held back from committing some desperate crime to\nrevenge those horrid deeds, wrought by men who in blasphemous\nmockery called themselves the servants and consecrated priests of\nGod.\n\nBut hold! I must not let my pen run away too fast with me! I am\nleaping to the end, before the end has come. But, as I say, I have\nno heart to write of all those weary months of wearing inactivity,\nwherein the spirit of the Maid chafed like that of a caged eagle,\nwhilst the counsellors of the King--her bitter foes--had his ear,\nand held him back from following the course which her spirit and\nher knowledge alike advocated.\n\nAnd yet we made none so bad a start.\n\n\"We must march upon Paris next,\" spoke the Maid at the first\nCouncil of War held in Rheims after the coronation of the King; and\nLa Hire and the soldiers applauded the bold resolve, whilst La\nTremouille and other timid and treacherous spirits sought ever to\nhold him back.\n\nI often thought of the words spoken by the Maid to those friends of\nhers from Domremy, when she bid them farewell on the evening of\nwhich I have just written.\n\n\"Are you not afraid, Jeanne,\" they asked, \"of going into battle, of\nliving so strange a life, of being the companion of the great men\nof the earth?\"\n\nAnd she, looking at them with those big grave eyes of hers, had\nmade answer thus:\n\n\"I fear nothing but treachery.\"\n\nI wondered when she spoke what treachery she was to meet with; but\nsoon it became all too apparent. The King's ministers were\ntreacherously negotiating with false Burgundy, some say with the\nRegent Bedford himself. They cared not to save France. They cared\nonly to keep out of harm's way--to avoid all peril and danger, and\nto thwart the Maid, whose patriotism and lofty courage was such a\nfoil to their pusillanimity and cowardice.\n\nSo that though she led us to the very walls of Paris, and would\nhave taken the whole city without a doubt, had she been permitted,\nthough the Duc d'Alencon, now her devoted adherent, went down upon\nhis very knees to beg of the King to fear nothing, but trust all to\nher genius, her judgment; he could not prevail, and orders were\nsent forth to break down the bridge that she had built for the\nstorming party to pass over, and that the army should fall back\nwith their task undone!\n\nOh, the folly, the ingratitude, the baseness of it all! How well do\nI remember the face of the Maid, as she said:\n\n\"The King's word must be obeyed; but truly it will take him seven\nyears--ah, and twenty years now--to accomplish that which I would\ndo for him in less than twenty days!\"\n\nThink of it--you who have seen what followed. Was Paris in the\nKing's hands in less than seven years? Were the English driven from\nFrance in less than twenty?\n\nShe was wounded, too; and had been forcibly carried away from the\nfield of battle; but it was against her own will. She would have\nfought through thick and thin, had the King's commands not\nprevailed; and even then she begged to be left with a band of\nsoldiers at St. Denis.\n\n\"My voices tell me to remain here,\" she said; but alas! her voices\nwere regarded no longer by the King, whose foolish head and\ncowardly heart were under other influences than that of the Maid,\nto whom he had promised so much such a short while since.\n\nAnd so his word prevailed, and we were perforce obliged to retreat\nfrom those walls we had so confidently desired to storm. And there\nin the church of St. Denis, where she had knelt so many hours in\nprayer and supplication, the Maid left her beautiful silver armour,\nwhich had so often flashed its radiant message of triumph to her\nsoldiers, and with it that broken sword--broken outside the walls\nof Paris, and which no skill had sufficed to mend--which had been\ntaken from St Catherine's Church in Fierbois.\n\nIt was not altogether an unwonted act for knights to deposit their\narms in churches, though the custom is dying away, with so many\nother relics of chivalry; but there was something very strange and\nsolemn in this act of the Maid. It was to us a significant sign of\nthat which she saw before her. We dared not ask her wherefore she\ndid it. Something in her sad, gentle face forbade us. But I felt\nthe tears rising to my eyes as I watched her kneel long in prayer\nwhen the deed was done, and I heard stifled sobs arising from that\nend of the building where some women and children knelt. For the\nMaid was ever the friend of all such, and never a woman or child\nwhom she approached, whether she were clad in peasant's homespun or\nin shining coat of mail, but gave her love and trust and friendship\nat sight.\n\nHenceforth the Maid went clothed in a light suit of mail, such as\nany youthful knight might wear. She never spoke again of her fair\nwhite armour, or of the sword which had shivered in her hand, none\nsave herself knew how or when.\n\nAlas! for the days of glory which had gone before! Why did we keep\nher with the King's armies, when the monarch's ear was engrossed by\nadverse counsel, and his heart turned away from her who had been\nhis Deliverer in the hour of his greatest need?\n\nMethinks she would even now have returned home, but for the\ndevotion of the soldiers and the persuasions of the Duc d'Alencon,\nand of some of the other generals, amongst whom the foremost were\nDunois and La Hire. These chafed equally with the Maid at the\nsupine attitude of the King; and the Duke, his kinsman, spoke out\nboldly and fearlessly, warning him of the peril he was doing to his\nkingdom, and the wrong to the Maid who had served him so faithfully\nand well, and to whom he had made such fair promises.\n\nBut for the present all such entreaties or warnings fell upon deaf\nears. The time for the King's awakening had not yet come.\n\nNevertheless, we had our days of glory still, under the banner of\nthe Maid, when, after many months of idleness, the springtide again\nawoke the world, and she sallied forth strong in the assurance of\nvictory, whilst fortress after fortress fell before her, as in the\ndays of yore. Oh, how joyous were our hearts! Now did we believe\ntruly that the tide had turned, and that we were marching on to\nvictory.\n\nBut upon the Maid's face a shadow might often be seen to rest; and\nonce or twice when I would ask her of it, she replied in a low,\nsorrowful voice:\n\n\"My year is well-nigh ended. Something looms before me. My voices\nhave told me to be ready for what is coming. I fear me it will be\nmy fate to fall into the hands of the foe!\"\n\nI would not believe it! Almost I was resolved to plunge mine own\ndagger into her heart sooner than she should fall into the hand of\nthe pitiless English. But woe is me! I was not at her side that\ndreadful evening at Compiegne, when this terrible mishap befell. I\nhad been stricken down in that horrid death trap, when, hemmed in\nbetween the ranks of the Burgundians and English, we found our\nretreat into the city cut off.\n\nWas it treachery? Was it incapacity upon the part of the leaders of\nthe garrison, or what was the reason that no rush from the city\nbehind took the English in the rear, and effected the rescue of the\nMaid?\n\nI know not--I have never known--all to me is black mystery. I was\none of those to see the peril first, and with Bertrand and Guy de\nLaval beside me, to charge furiously upon the advancing foe, crying\naloud to others to close round the Maid and bear her away into\nsafety, whilst we engaged the enemy and gave them time.\n\nThat is all I know. All the rest vanishes in the mists. When these\nmists cleared away, Bertrand and I were in the home of Sir Guy,\ntended by his mother and grandmother--both of whom had seen and\nloved well the wonderful Maid--and she was in a terrible prison,\nsome said an iron cage, guarded by brutal English soldiers, and\ndeclared a witch or a sorceress, not fit to live, nor to die a\nsoldier's death, but only to perish at the stake as an outcast from\nGod and man.\n\nMonths had passed since the battle of Compiegne. Fever had had me\nfast in its grip all that while, and the news I heard on recovery\nbrought it all back again. Bertrand and Guy were in little better\ncase. We were like pale ghosts of our former selves during those\nwinter months, when, hemmed in by snow, we could learn so little\nnews from without, and could only eat out our hearts in rage and\ngrief.\n\nWith the spring came the news of the trial at Rouen--the bitter\nhatred of Bishop Cauchon--the awful consummation he had vowed to\nbring about.\n\nI know not whether it were folly to hope such a thing, but we three\nknights made instantly for the coast and crossed to England, to\nseek the ear of the young King there, and plead the cause of the\nMaid before him. I need not say how our mission failed. I care not\nto recall those sickening days of anxiety and hope deferred, and\nutter defeat at the last.\n\nHeartbroken and desperate we returned; and made our way to Rouen.\nThe whole city was in confusion. Need I say more? That very day,\nwithin an hour, the Maid, the Messenger from God, the Deliverer of\nthe King, the Saviour of France, was to die by fire, to perish as a\nheretic. And the King whom she had saved had not lifted a hand to\nsave her; the country she had delivered from a crushing disgrace,\nstood idly by to watch her perish thus!\n\nOh, the shame!--the treachery!--the horror! Let me not try to write\nof it. The King has striven now to make amends; but I wonder how he\nfeels sometimes when he sees the May sunshine streaming over the\nfair earth--over that realm which he now rules from sea to sea,\nwhen he thinks of the Maid who was led forth in that blaze of glory\nto meet her fiery doom.\n\nO God of Heaven look down and judge! How shall I tell of the sight\nI beheld?\n\nSuddenly I came upon it--mad with my grief, desperate with horror\nand despair. I saw the face of the Maid again! I saw her upraised\neyes, and her hands clasped to her breast, holding thereto a rough\nwooden cross, whilst someone from below held high in the air a\ncrucifix taken from some church and fastened upon a long wand.\n\nThe pile on which she stood was so high--so high; they said it was\ndone in mercy, that the rising clouds of smoke might choke her ere\nthe flame touched her. She was clad in a long white garment from\nhead to foot; her hair had grown and fell about and back from her\nface in a soft cloud gilded by the sun's rays. Her face was\nrapt--smiling--yes, I will swear it--smiling, as a child smiles up\ninto the face of its father.\n\nThere was an awful hush throughout the wide place. Everything\nreeled and swam before me; but I saw that face--that serene and\nsmiling face, wan and pale, but tranquil and glad and triumphant.\n\nThen came the rush of smoke, and the glare of ruddy fire. A stifled\ncry, like one immense groan rose from below--above in the reek and\nblaze all was silent. But from out that fire I saw--yes, and\nanother saw it too (an English soldier, rushing to add a faggot to\nthe pyre, a token of his hate to the Maid), and it so wrought upon\nhim that he dropped his burden, fell upon his knees and was like to\ndie of the fear--I saw a white dove rise from the smoke wreaths of\nthat ghastly pile, hover a moment, just touched by the glare of the\nfire, and then dart heavenwards as upon eagle's wings.\n\nYes, I saw it. To the day of my death will I swear it. I saw what\nshe had seen in vision long ago; and upon my heart there fell a\nstrange sense of peace and calm. It had not hurt her--it had been\nas she once said. Her saints had been with her to the end. She had\ntriumphed. All was well. Called of her Country, she had answered\nnobly to the call. Her Country had awarded her a fiery death; but\nin that fiery chariot she had ascended to the Lord, in whom she\ntrusted, hereafter to receive the crown of glory that fadeth not\naway.","title":"A Heroine of France: The Story of Joan of Arc","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":71964}