Texte original : Book 2 : In court and camp

67Book 2

In court and camp

69Chapter 1

Joan Says Good-By

The 5th of January, 1429, Joan came to me with her uncle Laxart, and said —

The time is come. My Voices are not vague now, but clear, and they have told me what to do. In two months I shall be with the Dauphin.

Her spirits were high, and her bearing martial. I caught the infection, and felt a great impulse stirring in me that was like what one feels when he hears the roll of the drums and the tramp of marching men.

I believe it, I said.

I also believe it, said Laxart. If she had told me before that she was commanded of God to rescue France, I should not have believed ; I should have let her seek the governor by her own ways and held myself clear of meddling in the matter, not doubting she was mad. But I have seen her stand before those nobles and mighty men unafraid, and say her say ; and she had not been able to do that but by the help of God. That I know. Therefore with all humbleness I am at her command, to do with me as she will.

My uncle is very good to me, Joan said. I sent and asked him to come and persuade my mother to let him take me home with him to tend his wife, who is not well. It is arranged, and we go at dawn to-morrow. From his house I shall go soon to Vaucouleurs, and wait and strive until my prayer is granted. Who were the two cavaliers who sat to your left at the governor’s table that day ?

One was the Sieur Jean de Novelonpont de Metz, the other the Sieur Bertrand de Poulengy.

70Good metal — good metal, both. I marked them for men of mine… What is it I see in your face ? Doubt ?

I was teaching myself to speak the truth to her, not trimming it or polishing it ; so I said —

They considered you out of your head, and said so. It is true they pitied you for being in such misfortune, but still they held you to be mad.

This did not seem to trouble her in any way or wound her. She only said —

The wise change their minds when they perceive that they have been in error. These will. They will march with me. I shall see them presently… You seem to doubt again ? Do you doubt ?

N-no. Not now, I was remembering that it was a year ago, and that they did not belong there, but only chanced to stop a day on their journey.

They will come again. But as to matters now in hand ; I came to leave with you some instructions. You will follow me in a few days. Order your affairs, for you will be absent long.

Will Jean and Pierre go with me ?

No ; they would refuse now, but presently they will come, and with them they will bring my parents’ blessing, and likewise their consent that I take up my mission. I shall be stronger then — stronger for that ; for lack of it I am weak now. She paused a little while, and the tears gathered in her eyes ; then she went on : I would say good-by to Little Mengette. Bring her outside the village at dawn ; she must go with me a little of the way —

And Haumette ?

She broke down and began to cry, saying —

No, oh, no — she is too dear to me ; I could not bear it, knowing I should never look upon her face again.

Next morning I brought Mengette, and we four walked along the road in the cold dawn till the village was far behind ; then the two girls said their good-byes, clinging about each other’s neck, and pouring out their grief in loving words 71and tears, a pitiful sight to see. And Joan took one long look back upon the distant village, and the Fairy Tree, and the oak forest, and the flowery plain, and the river, as if she was trying to print these scenes on her memory so that they would abide there always and not fade, for she knew she would not see them any more in this life ; then she turned, and went from us, sobbing bitterly. It was her birthday and mine. She was seventeen years old.

72Chapter 2

The Governor Speeds Joan

After a few days, Laxart took Joan to Vaucouleurs, and found lodging and guardianship for her with Catherine Royer, a wheelwright’s wife, an honest and good woman. Joan went to mass regularly, she helped do the housework, earning her keep in that way, and if any wished to talk with her about her mission — and many did — she talked freely, making no concealments regarding the matter now. I was soon housed near by, and witnessed the effects which followed. At once the tidings spread that a young girl was come who was appointed of God to save France. The common people flocked in crowds to look at her and speak with her, and her fair young loveliness won the half of their belief, and her deep earnestness and transparent sincerity won the other half. The well-to-do remained away and scoffed, but that is their way.

Next, a prophecy of Merlin’s, more than eight hundred years old, was called to mind, which said that in a far future time France would be lost by a woman and restored by a woman. France was now, for the first time, lost — and by a woman, Isabel of Bavaria, her base Queen ; doubtless this fair and pure young girl was commissioned of Heaven to complete the prophecy.

This gave the growing interest a new and powerful impulse ; the excitement rose higher and higher, and hope and faith along with it ; and so from Vaucouleurs wave after wave of this inspiring enthusiasm flowed out over the land, far and wide, invading all the villages and refreshing and revivifying the perishing children of France ; and from these villages came people who wanted to see for themselves, hear for themselves ; and they did see and hear, and believe. They filled 73the town ; they more than filled it ; inns and lodgings were packed, and yet half of the inflow had to go without shelter. And still they came, winter as it was, for when a man’s soul is starving, what does he care for meat and roof so he can but get that nobler hunger fed ? Day after day, and still day after day, the great tide rose. Domremy was dazed, amazed, stupefied, and said to itself, Was this world-wonder in our familiar midst all these years and we too dull to see it ? Jean and Pierre went out from the village stared at and envied like the great and fortunate of the earth, and their progress to Vaucouleurs was like a triumph, all the country-side flocking to see and salute the brothers of one with whom angels had spoken face to face, and into whose hands by command of God they had delivered the destinies of France.

The brothers brought the parents blessing and Godspeed to Joan, and their promise to bring it to her in person later ; and so, with this culminating happiness in her heart and the high hope it inspired, she went and confronted the governor again. But he was no more tractable than he had been before. He refused to send her to the King. She was disappointed, but in no degree discouraged. She said —

I must still come to you until I get the men-at-arms ; for so it is commanded, and I may not disobey. I must go to the Dauphin, though I go on my knees.

I and the two brothers were with Joan daily, to see the people that came and hear what they said ; and one day, sure enough, the Sieur Jean de Metz came. He talked with her in a petting and playful way, as one talks with children, and said —

What are you doing here, my little maid ? Will they drive the King out of France, and shall we all turn English ?

She answered him in her tranquil, serious way —

I am come to bid Robert de Baudricourt take or send me to the King, but he does not heed my words.

Ah, you have an admirable persistence, truly ; a whole year has not turned you from your wish. I saw you when you came before.

74Joan said, as tranquilly as before —

It is not a wish, it is a purpose. He will grant it. I can wait.

Ah, perhaps it will not be wise to make too sure of that, my child. These governors are stubborn people to deal with. In case he shall not grant your prayer -

He will grant it. He must. It is not matter of choice.

The gentleman’s playful mood began to disappear — one could see that, by his face. Joan’s earnestness was affecting him. It always happened that people who began in jest with her, ended by being in earnest. They soon began to perceive depths in her that they had not suspected ; and then her manifest sincerity and the rocklike steadfastness of her convictions were forces which cowed levity, and it could not maintain its self-respect in their presence. The Sieur de Metz was thoughtful for a moment or two, then he began, quite soberly —

Is it necessary that you go to the King soon ? — that is, I mean —

Before Mid-Lent, even though I wear away my legs to the knees !

She said it with that sort of repressed fieriness that means so much when a person’s heart is in a thing. You could see the response in that nobleman’s face ; you could see his eye light up ; there was sympathy there. He said, most earnestly —

God knows I think you should have the men-at-arms, and that somewhat would come of it. What is it that you would do ? What is your hope and purpose ?

To rescue France. And it is appointed that I shall do it. For no one else in the world, neither kings nor dukes, not any other, can recover the kingdom of France, and there is no help but in me.

The words had a pleading and pathetic sound, and they touched that good nobleman. I saw it plainly. Joan dropped her voice a little, and said : But indeed I would rather spin with my poor mother, for this is not my calling ; but I must go and do it, for it is my Lord’s will.

75Who is your Lord ?

He is God.

Then the Sieur de Metz, following the impressive old feudal fashion, knelt and laid his hands within Joan’s, in sign of fealty, and made oath that by God’s help he himself would take her to the King.

The next day came the Sieur Bertrand de Poulengy, and he also pledged his oath and knightly honor to abide with her and follow whithersoever she might lead.

This day, too, toward evening, a great rumor went flying abroad through the town — namely, that the very governor himself was going to visit the young girl in her humble lodgings. So in the morning the streets and lanes were packed with people waiting to see if this strange thing would indeed happen. And happen it did. The governor rode in state, attended by his guards, and the news of it went everywhere, and made a great sensation, and modified the scoffings of the people of quality and raised Joan’s credit higher than ever.

The governor had made up his mind to one thing : Joan was either a witch or a saint, and he meant to find out which it was. So he brought a priest with him to exorcise the devil that was in her, in case there was one there. The priest performed his office, but found no devil. He merely hurt Joan’s feelings and offended her piety without need, for he had already confessed her before this, and should have known, if he knew anything, that devils cannot abide the confessional, but utter cries of anguish and the most profane and furious cursings whenever they are confronted with that holy office.

The governor went away troubled and full of thought, and not knowing what to do. And while he pondered and studied, several days went by and the 14th of February was come. Then Joan went to the castle and said —

In God’s name, Robert de Baudricourt, you are too slow about sending me, and have caused damage thereby, for this day the Dauphin’s cause has lost a battle near Orleans, and will suffer yet greater injury if you do not send me to him soon.

76The governor was perplexed by this speech, and said —

To-day, child, to-day ? How can you know what has happened in that region to-day ? It would take eight or ten days for the word to come.

My Voices have brought the word to me, and it is true. A battle was lost to-day, and you are in fault to delay me so.

The governor walked the floor a while, talking within himself, but letting a great oath fall outside now and then ; and finally he said —

Harkye ! go in peace and wait. If it shall turn out as you say, I will give you the letter and send you to the King, and not otherwise.

Joan said with fervor —

Now God be thanked, these waiting days are almost done. In nine days you will fetch me the letter.

Already the people of Vaucouleurs had given her a horse and had armed and equipped her as a soldier. She got no chance to try the horse and see if she could ride it, for her great first duty was to abide at her post and lift up the hopes and spirits of all who would come to talk with her, and prepare them to help in the rescue and regeneration of the kingdom. This occupied every waking moment she had. But it was no matter. There was nothing she could not learn — and in the briefest time, too. Her horse would find this out in the first hour. Meantime the brothers and I took the horse in turn and began to learn to ride. And we had teaching in the use of the sword and other arms, also.

On the 20th Joan called her small army together — the two knights and her two brothers and me — for a private council of war. No, it was not a council — that is not the right name, for she did not consult with us, she merely gave us orders. She mapped out the course she would travel toward the King, and did it like a person perfectly versed in geography ; and this itinerary of daily marches was so arranged as to avoid here and there peculiarly dangerous regions by flank movements — which showed that she knew her political geography 77as intimately as she knew her physical geography ; yet she had never had a day’s schooling, of course, and was without education. I was astonished, but thought her Voices must have taught her. But upon reflection I saw that this was not so. By her references to what this and that and the other person had told her, I perceived that she had been diligently questioning those crowds of visiting strangers, and that out of them she had patiently dug all this mass of invaluable knowledge. The two knights were filled with wonder at her good sense and sagacity.

She commanded us to make preparations to travel by night and sleep by day in concealment, as almost the whole of our long journey would be through the enemy’s country.

Also, she commanded that we should keep the date of our departure a secret, since she meant to get away unobserved. Otherwise we should be sent off with a grand demonstration which would advertise us to the enemy, and we should be ambushed and captured somewhere. Finally she said —

Nothing remains, now, but that I confide to you the date of our departure, so that you may make all needful preparation in time, leaving nothing to be done in haste and badly at the last moment. We march the 23d, at eleven of the clock at night.

Then we were dismissed. The two knights were startled — yes, and troubled ; and the Sieur Bertrand said —

Even if the governor shall really furnish the letter and the escort, he still may not do it in time to meet the date she has chosen. Then how can she venture to name that date ? It is a great risk — a great risk to select and decide upon the date, in this state of uncertainty.

I said —

Since she has named the 23d, we may trust her. The Voices have told her, I think. We shall do best to obey.

We did obey. Joan’s parents were notified to come before the 23d, but prudence forbade that they be told why this limit was named.

All day, the 23d, she glanced up wistfully whenever new bodies 78of strangers entered the house, but her parents did not appear. Still she was not discouraged, but hoped on. But when night fell, at last, her hopes perished, and the tears came ; however, she dashed them away, and said —

It was to be so, no doubt ; no doubt it was so ordered ; I must bear it, and will.

De Metz tried to comfort her by saying —

The governor sends no word ; it may be that they will come to-morrow, and —

He got no further, for she interrupted him, saying —

To what good end ? We start at eleven to-night.

And it was so. At ten the governor came, with his guard and torch-bearers, and delivered to her a mounted escort of men-at-arms, with horses and equipments for me and for the brothers, and gave Joan a letter to the King. Then he took off his sword, and belted it about her waist with his own hands, and said —

You said true child. The battle was lost, on the day you said. So I have kept my word. Now go — come of it what may.

Joan gave him thanks, and he went his way.

The lost battle was the famous disaster that is called in history the Battle of the Herrings.

All the lights in the house were at once put out, and a little while after, when the streets had become dark and still, we crept stealthily through them and out at the western gate and rode away under whip and spur.

79Chapter 3

The Paladin Groans and Boasts

We were twenty-five strong, and well equipped. We rode in double file, Joan and her brothers in the centre of the column, with Jean de Metz at the head of it and the Sieur Bertrand at its extreme rear. The knights were so placed to prevent desertions — for the present. In two or three hours we should be in the enemy’s country, and then none would venture to desert. By-and-by we began to hear groans and sobs and execrations from different points along the line, and upon inquiry found that six of our men were peasants who had never ridden a horse before, and were finding it very difficult to stay in their saddles, and moreover were now beginning to suffer considerable bodily torture. They had been seized by the governor at the last moment and pressed into the service to make up the tale, and he had placed a veteran alongside of each with orders to help him stick to the saddle, and kill him if he tried to desert.

These poor devils had kept quiet as long as they could, but their physical miseries were become so sharp by this time that they were obliged to give them vent. But we were within the enemy’s country now, so there was no help for them, they must continue the march, though Joan said that if they chose to take the risk they might depart. They preferred to stay with us. We modified our pace now, and moved cautiously, and the new men were warned to keep their sorrows to themselves and not get the command into danger with their curses and lamentations.

Toward dawn we rode deep into a forest, and soon all but the sentries were sound asleep in spite of the cold ground and the frosty air.

80I woke at noon out of such a solid and stupefying sleep that at first my wits were all astray, and I did not know where I was nor what had been happening. Then my senses cleared, and I remembered. As I lay there thinking over the strange events of the past month or two the thought came into my mind, greatly surprising me, that one of Joan’s prophecies had failed ; for where were Noël and the Paladin, who were to join us at the eleventh hour ? By this time, you see, I had gotten used to expecting everything Joan said to come true. So, being disturbed and troubled by these thoughts, I opened my eyes. Well, there stood the Paladin leaning against a tree and looking down on me ! How often that happens : you think of a person, or speak of a person, and there he stands before you, and you not dreaming he is near. It looks as if his being near is really the thing that makes you think of him, and not just an accident, as people imagine. Well, be that as it may, there was the Paladin, anyway, looking down in my face and waiting for me to wake. I was ever so glad to see him, and jumped up and shook him by the hand, and led him a little way from the camp — he limping like a cripple — and told him to sit down, and said —

Now, where have you dropped down from ? And how did you happen to light in this place ? And what do the soldier-clothes mean ? Tell me all about it.

He answered —

I marched with you last night.

No ! (To myself I said, The prophecy has not all failed — half of it has come true.’)

Yes, I did. I hurried up from Domremy to join, and was within a half a minute of being too late. In fact, I was too late, but I begged so hard that the governor was touched by my brave devotion to my country’s cause — those are the words he used — and so he yielded, and allowed me to come.

I thought to myself, this is a lie ; he is one of those six the governor recruited by force at the last moment ; I know it, for Joan’s prophecy said he would join at the eleventh hour, but not by his own desire. Then I said aloud —

81I am glad you came ; it is a noble cause, and one should not sit at home in times like these.

Sit at home ! I could no more do it than the thunder-stone could stay hid in the clouds when the storm calls it.

That is the right talk. It sounds like you.

That pleased him.

I’m glad you know me. Some don’t. But they will, presently. They will know me well enough before I get done with this war.

That is what I think. I believe that wherever danger confronts you you will make yourself conspicuous.

He was charmed with this speech, and it swelled him up like a bladder. He said —

If I know myself — and I think I do — my performances in this campaign will give you occasion more than once to remember those words.

I were a fool to doubt it. That, I know.

I shall not be at my best, being but a common soldier ; still, the country will hear of me. If I were where I belong ; if I were in the place of La Hire, or Saintrailles, of the Bastard of Orleans — well, I say nothing, I am not of the talking kind, like Noël Rainguesson and his sort, I thank God. But it will be something I take it — a novelty in this world, I should say — to raise the fame of a private soldier above theirs, and extinguish the glory of their names with its shadow.

Why, look here, my friend, I said, do you know that you have hit out a most remarkable idea there ? Do you realize the gigantic proportions of it ? For look you : to be a general of vast renown, what is that ? Nothing — history is clogged and confused with them ; one cannot keep their names in his memory, there are so many. But a common soldier of supreme renown — why, he would stand alone ! He would be the one moon in a firmament of mustard-seed stars ; his name would outlast the human race ! My friend, who gave you that idea ?

He was ready to burst with happiness, but he suppressed 82betrayal of it as well as he could. He simply waved the compliment aside with his hand and said, with complacency —

It is nothing. I have them often — ideas like that — and even greater ones. I do not consider this one much.

You astonish me ; you do indeed. So it is really your own ?

Quite. And there is plenty more where it came from — tapping his head with his finger, and taking occasion at the same time to cant his morion over his right ear, which gave him a very self-satisfied air — I do not need to borrow my ideas, like Noël Rainguesson.

Speaking of Noël, when did you see him last ?

Half an hour ago. He is sleeping yonder like a corpse. Rode with us last night.

I felt a great upleap in my heart, and said to myself, now I am at rest and glad ; I will never doubt her prophecies again. Then I said aloud —

It gives me joy. It makes me proud of our village. There is no keeping our lion-hearts at home in these great times, I see that.

Lion-heart ! Who — that baby ? Why, he begged like a dog to be let off. Cried, and said he wanted to go to his mother. Him a lion-heart ! — that tumble-bug !

Dear me, why I supposed he volunteered, of course. Didn’t he ?

Oh, yes, volunteered the way people do to the headsman. Why, when he found I was coming up from Domremy to volunteer, he asked me to let him come along in my protection, and see the crowds and the excitement. Well, we arrived and saw the torches filing out at the Castle, and ran there, and the governor had him seized, along with four more, and he begged to be let off, and I begged for his place, and at last the governor allowed me to join, but wouldn’t let Noël off, because he was disgusted with him, he was such a cry-baby. Yes, and much good he’ll do the King’s service : he’ll eat for six and run for sixteen. I hate a pigmy with half a heart and nine stomachs !

83Why, this is very surprising news to me, and I am sorry and disappointed to hear it. I thought he was a very manly fellow.

The Paladin gave me an outraged look, and said —

I don’t see how you can talk like that, I’m sure I don’t. I don’t see how you could have got such a notion. I don’t dislike him, and I’m not saying these things out of prejudice, for I don’t allow myself to have prejudices against people. I like him, and have always comraded with him from the cradle, but he must allow me to speak my mind about his faults, and I am willing he shall speak his about mine, if I have any. And true enough, maybe I have ; but I reckon they’ll bear inspection — I have that idea, anyway. A manly fellow ! You should have heard him whine and wail and swear, last night, because the saddle hurt him. Why didn’t the saddle hurt me ? Pooh — I was as much at home in it as if I had been born there. And yet it was the first time I was ever on a horse. All those old soldiers admired my riding ; they said they had never seen anything like it. But him — why, they had to hold him on, all the time.

An odor as of breakfast came stealing through the wood ; the Paladin unconsciously inflated his nostrils in lustful response, and got up and limped painfully away, saying he must go and look to his horse.

At bottom he was all right and a good-hearted giant, without any harm in him, for it is no harm to bark, if one stops there and does not bite, and it is no harm to be an ass, if one is content to bray and not kick. If this vast structure of brawn and muscle and vanity and foolishness seemed to have a libellous tongue, what of it ? There was no malice behind it ; and besides, the defect was not of his own creation ; it was the work of Noël Rainguesson, who had nurtured it, fostered it, built it up and perfected it, for the entertainment he got out of it. His careless light heart had to have somebody to nag and chaff and make fun of, the Paladin had only needed development in order to meet its requirements, consequently the development was taken in hand and diligently 84attended to and looked after, gnat-and-bull fashion, for years, to the neglect and damage of far more important concerns. The result was an unqualified success. Noël prized the society of the Paladin above everybody else’s ; the Paladin preferred anybody’s to Noël’s. The big fellow was often seen with the little fellow, but it was for the same reason that the bull is often seen with the gnat.

With the first opportunity, I had a talk with Noël. I welcomed him to our expedition, and said —

It was fine and brave of you to volunteer, Noël.

His eye twinkled, and he answered —

Yes, it was rather fine I think. Still, the credit doesn’t all belong to me ; I had help.

Who helped you ?

The governor.

How ?

Well, I’ll tell you the whole thing. I came up from Domremy to see the crowds and the general show, for I hadn’t ever had any experience of such things, of course, and this was a great opportunity ; but I hadn’t any mind to volunteer. I overtook the Paladin on the road and let him have my company the rest of the way, although he did not want it and said so ; and while we were gawking and blinking in the glare of the governor’s torches they seized us and four more and added us to the escort, and that is really how I came to volunteer. But after all, I wasn’t sorry, remembering how dull life would have been in the village without the Paladin.

How did he feel about it ? Was he satisfied ?

I think he was glad.

Why ?

Because he said he wasn’t. He was taken by surprise, you see, and it is not likely that he could tell the truth without preparation. Not that he would have prepared, if he had had the chance, for I do not think he would. I am not charging him with that. In the same space of time that he could prepare to speak the truth, he could also prepare to lie ; besides, 85his judgment would be cool then, and would warn him against fooling with new methods in an emergency. No, I am sure he was glad, because he said he wasn’t.

Do you think he was very glad ?

Yes, I know he was. He begged like a slave, and bawled for his mother. He said his health was delicate, and he didn’t know how to ride a horse, and knew he couldn’t outlive the first march. But really he wasn’t looking as delicate as he was feeling. There was a cask of wine there, a proper lift for four men. The governor’s temper got afire, and he delivered an oath at him that knocked up the dust where it struck the ground, and told him to shoulder that cask or he would carve him to cutlets and send him home in a basket. The Paladin did it, and that secured his promotion to a privacy in the escort without any further debate.

Yes, you seem to make it quite plain that he was glad to join — that is, if your premises are right that you start from. How did he stand the march last night ?

About as I did. If he made the more noise, it was the privilege of his bulk. We stayed in our saddles because we had help. We are equally lame to-day, and if he likes to sit down, let him ; I prefer to stand.

86Chapter 4

Joan Leads Us Through the Enemy

We were called to quarters and subjected to a searching inspection by Joan. Then she made a short little talk in which she said that even the rude business of war could be conducted better without profanity and other brutalities of speech than with them, and that she should strictly require us to remember and apply this admonition. She ordered half an hour’s horsemanship-drill for the novices then, and appointed one of the veterans to conduct it. It was a ridiculous exhibition, but we learned something, and Joan was satisfied and complimented us. She did not take any instruction herself or go through the evolutions and manoeuvres, but merely sat her horse like a martial little statue and looked on. That was sufficient for her, you see. She would not miss or forget a detail of the lesson, she would take it all in with her eye and her mind, and apply it afterward with as much certainty and confidence as if she had already practised it.

We now made three night-marches of twelve or thirteen leagues each, riding in peace and undisturbed, being taken for a roving band of Free Companions. Countryfolk were glad to have that sort of people go by without stopping. Still, they were very wearing marches, and not comfortable, for the bridges were few and the streams many, and as we had to ford them we found the water dismally cold, and afterward had to bed ourselves, still wet, on the frosty or snowy ground, and get warm as we might and sleep if we could, for it would not have been prudent to build fires. Our energies languished under these hardships and deadly fatigues, but Joan’s did not. Her step kept its spring and 87firmness and her eye its fire. We could only wonder at this, we could not explain it.

But if we had had hard times before, I know not what to call the five nights that now followed, for the marches were as fatiguing, the baths as cold, and we were ambuscaded seven times in addition, and lost two novices and three veterans in the resulting fights. The news had leaked out and gone abroad that the inspired Virgin of Vaucouleurs was making for the King with an escort, and all the roads were being watched now.

These five nights disheartened the command a good deal. This was aggravated by a discovery which Noël made, and which he promptly made known at headquarters. Some of the men had been trying to understand why Joan continued to be alert, vigorous, and confident while the strongest men in the company were fagged with the heavy marches and exposure and were become morose and irritable. There, it shows you how men can have eyes and yet not see. All their lives those men had seen their own womenfolks hitched up with a cow and dragging the plough in the fields while the men did the driving. They had also seen other evidences that women have far more endurance and patience and fortitude than men — but what good had their seeing these things been to them ? None. It had taught them nothing. They were still surprised to see a girl of seventeen bear the fatigues of war better than trained veterans of the army. Moreover, they did not reflect that a great soul, with a great purpose, can make a weak body strong and keep it so ; and here was the greatest soul in the universe ; but how could they know that, those dumb creatures ? No, they knew nothing, and their reasonings were of a piece with their ignorance. They argued and discussed among themselves, with Noël listening, and arrived at the decision that Joan was a witch, and had her strange pluck and strength from Satan ; so they made a plan to watch for a safe opportunity and take her life.

To have secret plottings of this sort going on in our midst was a very serious business, of course, and the knights asked 88Joan’s permission to hang the plotters, but she refused without hesitancy. She said :

Neither these men nor any others can take my life before my mission is accomplished, therefore why should I have their blood upon my hands ? I will inform them of this, and also admonish them. Call them before me.

When they came she made that statement to them in a plain matter-of-fact way, and just as if the thought never entered her mind that any one could doubt it after she had given her word that it was true. The men were evidently amazed and impressed to hear her say such a thing in such a sure and confident way, for prophecies boldly uttered never fall barren on superstitious ears. Yes, this speech certainly impressed them, but her closing remark impressed them still more. It was for the ringleader, and Joan said it sorrowfully —

It is a pity that you should plot another’s death when your own is so close at hand.

That man’s horse stumbled and fell on him in the first ford which we crossed that night, and he was drowned before we could help him. We had no more conspiracies.

This night was harassed with ambuscades, but we got through without having any men killed. One more night would carry us over the hostile frontier if we had good luck, and we saw the night close down with a good deal of solicitude. Always before, we had been more or less reluctant to start out into the gloom and the silence to be frozen in the fords and persecuted by the enemy, but this time we were impatient to get under way and have it over, although there was promise of more and harder fighting than any of the previous nights had furnished. Moreover, in front of us about three leagues there was a deep stream with a frail wooden bridge over it, and as a cold rain mixed with snow had been falling steadily all day we were anxious to find out whether we were in a trap or not. If the swollen stream had washed away the bridge, we might properly consider ourselves trapped and cut off from escape.

As soon as it was dark we filed out from the depths of the 89forest where we had been hidden and began the march. From the time that we had begun to encounter ambushes Joan had ridden at the head of the column, and she took this post now. By the time we had gone a league the rain and snow had turned to sleet, and under the impulse of the storm-wind it lashed my face like whips, and I envied Joan and the knights, who could close their visors and shut up their heads in their helmets as in a box. Now, out of the pitchy darkness and close at hand, came the sharp command —

Halt !

We obeyed. I made out a dim mass in front of us which might be a body of horsemen, but one could not be sure. A man rode up and said to Joan in a tone of reproof —

Well, you have taken your time, truly. And what have you found out ? Is she still behind us, or in front ?

Joan answered in a level voice —

She is still behind.

This news softened the stranger’s tone. He said —

If you know that to be true, you have not lost your time, Captain. But are you sure ? How do you know ?

Because I have seen her.

Seen her ! Seen the Virgin herself ?

Yes, I have been in her camp.

Is it possible ! Captain Raymond, I ask you to pardon me for speaking in that tone just now. You have performed a daring and admirable service. Where was she camped ?

In the forest, not more than a league from here.

Good ! I was afraid we might be still behind her, but now that we know she is behind us, everything is safe. She is our game. We will hang her. You shall hang her yourself. No one has so well earned the privilege of abolishing this pestilent limb of Satan.

I do not know how to thank you sufficiently. If we catch her, I —

If ! I will take care of that ; give yourself no uneasiness. All I want is just a look at her, to see what the imp is like 90that has been able to make all this noise, then you and the halter may have her. How many men has she ?

I counted but eighteen, but she may have had two or three pickets out.

Is that all ? It won’t be a mouthful for my force. Is it true that she is only a girl ?

Yes ; she is not more than seventeen.

It passes belief ! Is she robust, or slender ?

Slender.

The officer pondered a moment or two, then he said —

Was she preparing to break camp ?

Not when I had my last glimpse of her.

What was she doing ?

She was talking quietly with an officer.

Quietly ? Not giving orders ?

No, talking as quietly as we are now.

That is good. She is feeling a false security. She would have been restless and fussy else — it is the way of her sex when danger is about. As she was making no preparation to break camp, —

She certainly was not when I saw her last.

— and was chatting quietly and at her ease, it means that this weather is not to her taste. Night-marching in sleet and wind is not for chits of seventeen. No ; she will stay where she is. She has my thanks. We will camp, ourselves ; here is as good a place as any. Let us get about it.

If you command it — certainly. But she has two knights with her. They might force her to march, particularly if the weather should improve.

I was scared, and impatient to be getting out of this peril, and it distressed and worried me to have Joan apparently set herself to work to make delay and increase the danger — still, I thought she probably knew better than I what to do. The officer said —

Well, in that case we are here to block the way.

Yes, if they come this way. But if they should send out spies, and find out enough to make them want to try for the 91bridge through the woods ? Is it best to allow the bridge to stand ?

It made me shiver to hear her.

The officer considered a while, then said —

It might be well enough to send a force to destroy the bridge. I was intending to occupy it with the whole command, but that is not necessary now.

Joan said, tranquilly —

With your permission, I will go and destroy it myself.

Ah, now I saw her idea, and was glad she had had the cleverness to invent it and the ability to keep her head cool and think of it in that tight place. The officer replied —

You have it, Captain, and my thanks. With you to do it, it will be well done ; I could send another in your place, but not a better.

They saluted, and we moved forward. I breathed freer. A dozen times I had imagined I heard the hoof-beats of the real Captain Raymond’s troop arriving behind us, and had been sitting on pins and needles all the while that that conversation was dragging along. I breathed freer, but was still not comfortable, for Joan had given only the simple command, Forward ! Consequently we moved in a walk. Moved in a dead walk past a dim and lengthening column of enemies at our side. The suspense was exhausting, yet it lasted but a short while, for when the enemy’s bugles sang the Dismount ! Joan gave the word to trot, and that was a great relief to me. She was always at herself you see. Before the command to dismount had been given somebody might have wanted the countersign somewhere along that line if we came flying by at speed, but now we seemed to be on our way to our allotted camping position, so we were allowed to pass unchallenged. The further we went the more formidable was the strength revealed by the hostile force. Perhaps it was only a hundred or two but to me it seemed a thousand. When we passed the last of these people I was thankful, and the deeper we ploughed into the darkness beyond them the better I felt. I came nearer and nearer to feeling good, for 92an hour ; then we found the bridge still standing, and I felt entirely good. We crossed it and destroyed it, and then I felt — but I cannot describe what I felt. One has to feel it himself in order to know what it is like.

We had expected to hear the rush of a pursuing force behind us, for we thought that the real Captain Raymond would arrive and suggest that perhaps the troop that had been mistaken for his belonged to the Virgin of Vaucouleurs ; but he must have been delayed seriously, for when we resumed our march beyond the river there were no sounds behind us except those which the storm was furnishing.

I said that Joan had harvested a good many compliments intended for Captain Raymond, and that he would find nothing of a crop left but a dry stubble of reprimands when he got back, and a commander just in the humor to superintend the gathering of it in.

Joan said —

It will be as you say, no doubt ; for the commander took a troop for granted, in the night and unchallenged, and would have camped without sending a force to destroy the bridge if he had been left unadvised, and none are so ready to find fault with others as those who do things worthy of blame themselves.

The Sieur Bertrand was amused at Joan’s naïve way of referring to her advice as if it had been a valuable present to a hostile leader who was saved by it from making a censurable blunder of omission, and then he went on to admire how ingeniously she had deceived that man and yet had not told him anything that was not the truth. This troubled Joan, and she said —

I thought he was deceiving himself. I forbore to tell him lies, for that would have been wrong ; but if my truths deceived him, perhaps that made them lies, and I am to blame. I would God I knew if I have done wrong.

She was assured that she had done right, and that in the perils and necessities of war deceptions that help one’s own cause and hurt the enemy’s were always permissible ; but she 93was not quite satisfied with that, and thought that even when a great cause was in danger, one ought to have the privilege of trying honorable ways first. Jean said —

Joan, you told us yourself that you were going to Uncle Laxart’s to nurse his wife, but you didn’t say you were going further, yet you did go on to Vaucouleurs. There !

I see, now, said Joan sorrowfully, I told no lie, yet I deceived. I had tried all other ways first, but I could not get away, and I had to get away. My mission required it. I did wrong, I think, and am to blame.

She was silent a moment, turning the matter over in her mind, then she added with quiet decision, But the thing itself was right, and I would do it again.

It seemed an over-nice distinction, but nobody said anything. If we had known her as well as she knew herself, and as her later history revealed her to us, we should have perceived that she had a clear meaning there, and that her position was not identical with ours, as we were supposing, but occupied a higher plane. She would sacrifice herself — and her best self ; that is, her truthfulness — to save her cause ; but only that : she would not buy her life at that cost ; whereas our war-ethics permitted the purchase of our lives, or any mere military advantage, small or great, by deception. Her saying seemed a commonplace at that time, the essence of its meaning escaping us ; but one sees, now, that it contained a principle which lifted it above that and made it great and fine.

Presently the wind died down, the sleet stopped falling, and the cold was less severe. The road was become a bog, and the horses labored through it at a walk — they could do no better. As the heavy time wore on, exhaustion overcame us, and we slept in our saddles. Not even the dangers that threatened us could keep us awake.

This tenth night seemed longer than any of the others, and of course it was the hardest, because we had been accumulating fatigue from the beginning, and had more of it on hand now than at any previous time. But we were not molested again. 94When the dull dawn came at last we saw a river before us and we knew it was the Loire ; we entered the town of Gien, and knew we were in a friendly land, with the hostiles all behind us. That was a glad morning for us.

We were a worn and bedraggled and shabby-looking troop ; and still, as always, Joan was the freshest of us all, in both body and spirits. We had averaged above thirteen leagues a night, by tortuous and wretched roads. It was a remarkable march, and shows what men can do when they have a leader with a determined purpose and a resolution that never flags.

95Chapter 5

We Pierce the Last Ambuscades

We rested and otherwise refreshed ourselves two or three hours at Gien, but by that time the news was abroad that the young girl commissioned of God to deliver France was come ; wherefore, such a press of people flocked to our quarters to get sight of her that it seemed best to seek a quieter place ; so we pushed on and halted at a small village called Fierbois.

We were now within six leagues of the King, who was at the Castle of Chinon. Joan dictated a letter to him at once, and I wrote it. In it she said she had come a hundred and fifty leagues to bring him good news, and begged the privilege of delivering it in person. She added that although she had never seen him, she would know him in any disguise and would point him out.

The two knights rode away at once with the letter. The troop slept all the afternoon, and after supper we felt pretty fresh and fine, especially our little group of young Domremians. We had the comfortable tap-room of the village inn to ourselves, and for the first time in ten unspeakably long days were exempt from bodings and terrors and hardships and fatiguing labors. The Paladin was suddenly become his ancient self again, and was swaggering up and down, a very monument of self-complacency. Noël Rainguesson said —

I think it is wonderful, the way he has brought us through.

Who ? asked Jean.

Why, the Paladin.

The Paladin seemed not to hear.

What had he to do with it ? asked Pierre d’Arc.

96Everything. It was nothing but Joan’s confidence in his discretion that enabled her to keep up her heart. She could depend on us and on herself for valor, but discretion is the winning thing in war, after all ; discretion is the rarest and loftiest of qualities, and he has got more of it than any other man in France — more of it, perhaps, than any other sixty men in France.

Now you are getting ready to make a fool of yourself Noël Rainguesson, said the Paladin, and you want to coil some of that long tongue of yours around you neck and stick the end of it in your ear, then you’ll be the less likely to get into trouble.

I didn’t know he had more discretion than other people, said Pierre, for discretion argues brains, and he hasn’t any more brains than the rest of us, in my opinion.

No, you are wrong there. Discretion hasn’t anything to do with brains ; brains are an obstruction to it, for it does not reason, it feels. Perfect discretion means absence of brains. Discretion is a quality of the heart — solely a quality of the heart ; it acts upon us through feeling. We know this because if it were an intellectual quality, it would only perceive a danger, for instance, where a danger exists ; whereas —

Hear him twaddle — the damned idiot ! muttered the Paladin.

— whereas, it being purely a quality of the heart, and proceeding by feeling, not reason, its reach is correspondingly wider and sublimer, enabling it to perceive and avoid dangers that haven’t any existence at all ; as for instance that night in the fog, when the Paladin took his horse’s ears for hostile lances and got off and climbed a tree —

It’s a lie ! a lie without shadow of foundation, and I call upon you all to beware how you give credence to the malicious inventions of this ramshackle slander-mill that has been doing its best to destroy my character for years, and will grind up your own reputations for you, next. I got off to tighten my saddle-girth — I wish I may die in my tracks if it 97isn’t so — and whoever wants to believe it can, and whoever don’t, can let it alone.

There, that is the way with him, you see ; he never can discuss a theme temperately, but always flies off the handle and becomes disagreeable. And you notice his defect of memory. He remembers getting off his horse, but forgets all the rest, even the tree. But that is natural ; he would remember getting off the horse because he was so used to doing it. He always did it when there was an alarm and the clash of arms at the front.

Why did he choose that time for it ? asked Jean.

I don’t know. To tighten up his girth, he thinks ; to climb a tree, I think ; I saw him climb nine trees in a single night.

You saw nothing of the kind ! A person that can lie like that deserves no one’s respect. I ask you all to answer me. Do you believe what this reptile has said ?

All seemed embarrassed, and only Pierre replied. He said, hesitatingly —

I — well, I hardly know what to say. It is a delicate situation. It seems offensive to refuse to believe a person when he makes so direct a statement, and yet I am obliged to say, rude as it may appear, that I am not able to believe the whole of it — no, I am not able to believe that you climbed nine trees.

There ! cried the Paladin ; now what do you think of yourself, Noël Rainguesson ? How many do you believe I climbed, Pierre ?

Only eight.

The laughter that followed inflamed the Paladin’s anger to white heat, and he said —

I bide my time — I bide my time. I will reckon with you all, I promise you that !

Don’t get him started, Noël pleaded ; he is a perfect lion when he gets started. I saw enough to teach me that, after the third skirmish. After it was over I saw him come out of the bushes and attack a dead man single-handed.

98It is another lie ; and I give you fair warning that you are going too far. You will see me attack a live one if you are not careful.

Meaning me, of course. This wounds me more than any number of injurious and unkind speeches could do. Ingratitude to one’s benefactor —

Benefactor ? What do I owe you, I should like to know ?

You owe me your life. I stood between the trees and the foe, and kept hundreds and thousands of the enemy at bay when they were thirsting for your blood. And I did not do it to display my daring, I did it because I loved you and could not live without you.

There — you have said enough ! I will not stay here to listen to these infamies. I can endure your lies, but not your love. Keep that corruption for somebody with a stronger stomach than mine. And I want to say this, before I go. That you people’s small performances might appear the better and win you the more glory, I hid my own deeds through all the march. I went always to the front where the fighting was thickest, to be remote from you, in order that you might not see and be discouraged by the things I did to the enemy. It was my purpose to keep this a secret in my own breast, but you force me to reveal it. If you ask for my witnesses, yonder they lie, on the road we have come. I found that road mud, I paved it with corpses. I found that country sterile, I fertilized it with blood. Time and again I was urged to go to the rear because the command could not proceed on account of my dead. And yet you, you miscreant, accuse me of climbing trees ! Pah !

And he strode out, with a lofty air, for the recital of his imaginary deeds had already set him up again and made him feel good.

Next day we mounted and faced toward Chinon. Orleans was at our back, now, and close by, lying in the strangling grip of the English ; soon, please God, we would face about and go to their relief. From Gien the news had spread to 99Orleans that the peasant Maid of Vaucouleurs was on her way, divinely commissioned to raise the siege. The news made a great excitement and raised a great hope — the first breath of hope those poor souls had breathed in five months. They sent commissioners at once to the King to beg him to consider this matter, and not throw this help lightly away. These commissioners were already at Chinon by this time.

When we were half-way to Chinon we happened upon yet one more squad of enemies. They burst suddenly out of the woods, and in considerable force, too ; but we were not the apprentices we were ten or twelve days before ; no, we were seasoned to this kind of adventure now ; our hearts did not jump into our throats and our weapons tremble in our hands. We had learned to be always in battle array, always alert, and always ready to deal with any emergency that might turn up. We were no more dismayed by the sight of those people than our commander was. Before they could form, Joan had delivered the order, Forward ! and we were down upon them with a rush. They stood no chance ; they turned tail and scattered, we ploughing through them as if they had been men of straw. That was our last ambuscade, and it was probably laid for us by that treacherous rascal the King’s own minister and favorite, De la Tremouille.

We housed ourselves in an inn, and soon the town came flocking to get a glimpse of the Maid.

Ah, the tedious King and his tedious people ! Our two good knights came presently, their patience well wearied, and reported. They and we reverently stood — as becomes persons who are in the presence of Kings and the superiors of Kings — until Joan, troubled by this mark of homage and respect, and not content with it nor yet used to it, although we had not permitted ourselves to do otherwise since the day she prophesied that wretched traitor’s death and he was straightway drowned, thus confirming many previous signs that she was indeed an ambassador commissioned of God, commanded us to sit ; then the Sieur de Metz said to Joan :

100The King has got the letter, but they will not let us have speech with him.

Who is it that forbids ?

None forbids, but there be three or four that are nearest his person — schemers and traitors every one — that put obstructions in the way, and seek all ways, by lies and pretexts, to make delay. Chiefest of these are Georges de la Tremouille and that plotting fox the Archbishop of Rheims. While they keep the King idle and in bondage to his sports and follies, they are great and their importance grows ; whereas if ever he assert himself and rise and strike for crown and country like a man, their reign is done. So they but thrive they care not if the crown go to destruction and the King with it.

You have spoken with others besides these ?

Not of the Court, no — the Court are the meek slaves of those reptiles, and watch their mouths and their actions, acting as they act, thinking as they think, saying as they say : wherefore they are cold to us, and turn aside and go another way when we appear. But we have spoken with the commissioners from Orleans. They said with heat : It is a marvel that any man in such desperate case as is the King can moon around in this torpid way, and see his all go to ruin without lifting a finger to stay the disaster. What a most strange spectacle it is ! Here he is, shut up in this wee corner of the realm like a rat in a trap ; his royal shelter this huge gloomy tomb of a castle, with wormy rags for upholstery and crippled furniture for use, a very house of desolation ; in his treasury forty francs, and not a farthing more, God be witness ! no army, nor any shadow of one ; and by contrast with this hungry poverty you behold this crownless pauper and his shoals of fools and favorites tricked out in the gaudiest silks and velvets you shall find in any Court in Christendom. And look you, he knows that when our city falls — as fall it surely will except succor come swiftly — France falls ; he knows that when that day comes he will be an outlaw and a fugitive, and that behind him the English flag will float 101unchallenged over every acre of his great heritage ; he knows these things, he knows that our faithful city is fighting all solitary and alone against disease, starvation, and the sword to stay this awful calamity, yet he will not strike one blow to save her, he will not hear our prayers, he will not even look upon our faces. That is what the commissioners said, and they are in despair.

Joan said, gently —

It is pity, but they must not despair. The Dauphin will hear them presently. Tell them so.

She almost always called the King the Dauphin. To her mind he was not King yet, not being crowned.

We will tell them so, and it will content them, for they believe you come from God. The Archbishop and his confederate have for backer that veteran soldier Raoul de Gaucourt, Grand Master of the Palace, a worthy man but simply a soldier, with no head for any greater matter. He cannot make out to see how a country girl, ignorant of war can take a sword in her small hand and win victories where the trained generals of France have looked for defeats only, for fifty years — and always found them. And so he lifts his frosty mustache and scoffs.

When God fights it is but small matter whether the hand that bears His sword is big or little. He will perceive this in time. Is there none in that Castle of Chinon who favors us ?

Yes, the King’s mother-in-law, Yolande, Queen of Sicily, who is wise and good. She spoke with the Sieur Bertrand.

She favors us, and she hates those others, the King’s beguilers, said Bertrand. She was full of interest, and asked a thousand questions, all of which I answered according to my ability. Then she sat thinking over these replies until I thought she was lost in a dream and would wake no more. But it was not so. At last she said, slowly, and as if she were talking to herself : A child of seventeen — a girl — country bred — untaught — ignorant of war, the use of arms, and the conduct of battles — modest, gentle, shrinking — yet throws 102away her shepherd’s crook and clothes herself in steel, and fights her way through a hundred and fifty leagues of hostile territory, never losing heart or hope and never showing fear, and comes — she to whom a king must be a dread and awful presence — and will stand up before such an one and say, Be not afraid, God has sent me to save you ! Ah, whence could come a courage and conviction so sublime as this but from very God Himself ! She was silent again awhile, thinking, and making up her mind ; then she said, And whether she comes of God or no, there is that in her heart that raises her above men — high above all men that breathe in France to-day — for in her is that mysterious something that puts heart into soldiers, and turns mobs of cowards into armies of fighters that forget what fear is when they are in that presence — fighters who go into battle with joy in their eyes and songs on their lips, and sweep over the field like a storm — that is the spirit that can save France, and that alone, come it whence it may ! It is in her, I do truly believe, for what else could have borne up that child on that great march, and made her despise its dangers and fatigues ? The King must see her face to face — and shall ! She dismissed me with those good words, and I know her promise will be kept. They will delay her all they can — those animals — but she will not fail, in the end.

Would she were King ! said the other knight, fervently. For there is little hope that the King himself can be stirred out of his lethargy. He is wholly without hope, and is only thinking of throwing away everything and flying to some foreign land. The commissioners say there is a spell upon him that makes him hopeless — yes, and that it is shut up in a mystery which they cannot fathom.

I know the mystery, said Joan, with quiet confidence ; I know it, and he knows it, but no other but God. When I see him I will tell him a secret that will drive away his trouble, then he will hold up his head again.

I was miserable with curiosity to know what it was that she would tell him, but she did not say, and I did not expect she would. She was but a child, it is true, but she was not a 103chatterer to tell great matters and make herself important to little people ; no, she was reserved, and kept things to herself, as the truly great always do.

The next day Queen Yolande got one victory over the King’s keepers, for in spite of their protestations and obstructions she procured an audience for our two knights, and they made the most they could out of their opportunity. They told the King what a spotless and beautiful character Joan was, and how great and noble a spirit animated her, and they implored him to trust in her, believe in her, and have faith that she was sent to save France. They begged him to consent to see her. He was strongly moved to do this, and promised that he would not drop the matter out of his mind, but would consult with his council about it. This began to look encouraging. Two hours later there was a great stir below, and the innkeeper came flying up to say a commission of illustrious ecclesiastics was come from the King — from the King his very self, understand ! — think of this vast honor to his humble little hostelry ! — and he was so overcome with the glory of it that he could hardly find breath enough in his excited body to put the facts into words. They were come from the King to speak with the Maid of Vaucouleurs. Then he flew down-stairs, and presently appeared again, backing into the room and bowing to the ground with every step, in front of four imposing and austere bishops and their train of servants.

Joan rose, and we all stood. The bishops took seats, and for a while no word was said, for it was their prerogative to speak first, and they were so astonished to see what a child it was that was making such a noise in the world and degrading personages of their dignity to the base function of ambassadors to her in her plebeian tavern, that they could not find any words to say, at first. Then presently their spokesman told Joan they were aware that she had a message for the King, wherefore she was now commanded to put it into words, briefly and without waste of time or embroideries of speech.

104As for me, I could hardly contain my joy — our message was to reach the King at last ! And there was the same joy and pride and exultation in the faces of our knights, too, and in those of Joan’s brothers. And I knew that they were all praying — as I was — that the awe which we felt in the presence of these great dignitaries, and which would have tied our tongues and locked our jaws, would not affect her in the like degree, but that she would be enabled to word her message well, and with little stumbling, and so make a favorable impression here, where it would be so valuable and so important.

Ah dear, how little we were expecting what happened then ! We were aghast to hear her say what she said. She was standing in a reverent attitude, with her head down and her hands clasped in front of her ; for she was always reverent toward the consecrated servants of God. When the spokesman had finished, she raised her head and set her calm eye on those faces, not any more disturbed by their state and grandeur than a princess would have been, and said, with all her ordinary simplicity and modesty of voice and manner —

Ye will forgive me, reverend sirs, but I have no message save for the King’s ear alone.

Those surprised men were dumb for a moment, and their faces flushed darkly ; then the spokesman said —

Hark ye, do you fling the King’s command in his face and refuse to deliver this message of yours to his servants appointed to receive it ?

God has appointed one to receive it, and another’s commandment may not take precedence of that. I pray you let me have speech of his grace the Dauphin.

Forbear this folly, and come at your message ! Deliver it, and waste no more time about it.

You err indeed, most reverend fathers in God, and it is not well. I am not come hither to talk, but to deliver Orleans, and lead the Dauphin to his good city of Rheims, and set the crown upon his head.

Is that the message you send to the King ?

105But Joan only said, in the simple fashion which was her won’t —

Ye will pardon me for reminding you again — but I have no message to send to any one.

The King’s messengers rose in deep anger and swept out of the place without further words, we and Joan kneeling as they passed.

Our countenances were vacant, our hearts full of a sense of disaster. Our precious opportunity was thrown away ; we could not understand Joan’s conduct, she who had been so wise until this fatal hour. At last the Sieur Bertrand found courage to ask her why she had let this great chance to get her message to the King go by.

Who sent them here ? she asked.

The King.

Who moved the King to send them ? She waited for an answer ; none came for we began to see what was in her mind — so she answered herself : The Dauphin’s council moved him to it. Are they enemies to me and to the Dauphin’s weal, or are they friends ?

Enemies, answered the Sieur Bertrand.

If one would have a message go sound and ungarbled, does one choose traitors and tricksters to send it by ?

I saw that we had been fools, and she wise. They saw it too, so none found anything to say. Then she went on —

They had but small wit that contrived this trap. They thought to get my message and seem to deliver it straight, yet deftly twist it from its purpose. You know that one part of my message is but this — to move the Dauphin by argument and reasonings to give me men-at-arms and send me to the siege. If an enemy carried these in the right words, the exact words, and no word missing, yet left out the persuasions of gesture and supplicating tone and beseeching looks that inform the words and make them live, where were the value of that argument — whom could it convince ? Be patient, the Dauphin will hear me presently ; have no fear.

The Sieur de Metz nodded his head several times, and muttered as to himself —

106She was right and wise, and we are but dull fools, when all is said.

It was just my thought : I could have said it myself ; and indeed it was the thought of all there present. A sort of awe crept over us, to think how that untaught girl, taken suddenly and unprepared, was yet able to penetrate the cunning devices of a King’s trained advisers and defeat them. Marvelling over this, and astonished at it, we fell silent and spoke no more. We had come to know that she was great in courage, fortitude, endurance, patience, conviction, fidelity to all duties — in all things, indeed, that make a good and trusty soldier and perfect him for his post ; now we were beginning to feel that maybe there were greatnesses in her brain that were even greater than these great qualities of the heart. It set us thinking.

What Joan did that day bore fruit the very day after. The King was obliged to respect the spirit of a young girl who could hold her own and stand her ground like that, and he asserted himself sufficiently to put his respect into an act instead of into polite and empty words. He moved Joan out of that poor inn, and housed her, with us her servants, in the Castle of Courdray, personally confiding her to the care of Madame de Bellier, wife of old Raoul de Gaucourt, Master of the Palace. Of course this royal attention had an immediate result : all the great lords and ladies of the Court began to flock there to see and listen to the wonderful girl-soldier that all the world was talking about, and who had answered the King’s mandate with a bland refusal to obey. Joan charmed them every one with her sweetness and simplicity and unconscious eloquence, and all the best and capablest among them recognized that there was an indefinable something about her that testified that she was not made of common clay, that she was built on a grander plan than the mass of mankind, and moved on a loftier plane. These spread her fame. She always made friends and advocates that way ; neither the high nor the low could come within the sound of her voice and the sight of her face and go out from her presence indifferent.

107Chapter 6

Joan Convinces the King

Well, anything to make delay. The King’s council advised him against arriving at a decision in our matter too precipitately. He arrive at a decision too precipitately ! So they sent a committee of priests — always priests — into Lorraine to inquire into Joan’s character and history — a matter which would consume several weeks, of course. You see how fastidious they were. It was as if people should come to put out the fire when a man’s house was burning down, and they waited till they could send into another country to find out if he had always kept the Sabbath or not, before letting him try.

So the days poked along, dreary for us young people in some ways, but not in all, for we had one great anticipation in front of us — we had never seen a king, and now some day we should have that prodigious spectacle to see and to treasure in our memories all our lives ; so we were on the lookout, and always eager and watching for the chance. The others were doomed to wait longer than I, as it turned out. One day great news came — the Orleans commissioners, with Yolande and our knights, had at last turned the council’s position and persuaded the King to see Joan.

Joan received the immense news gratefully but without losing her head, but with us others it was otherwise ; we could not eat or sleep or do any rational thing for the excitement and the glory of it. During two days our pair of noble knights were in distress and trepidation on Joan’s account, for the audience was to be at night, and they were afraid that Joan would be so paralyzed by the glare of light from the long files of torches, the solemn pomps and ceremonies, the great 108concourse of renowned personages, the brilliant costumes, and the other splendors of the Court that she, a simple country maid, and all unused to such things, would be overcome by these terrors and make a piteous failure.

No doubt I could have comforted them, but I was not free to speak. Would Joan be disturbed by this cheap spectacle, this tinsel show, with its small King and his butterfly dukelets ? — she who had spoken face to face with the princes of heaven, the familiars of God, and seen their retinue of angels stretching back into the remoteness of the sky, myriads upon myriads, like a measureless fan of light, a glory like the glory of the sun streaming from each of those innumerable heads, the massed radiance filling the deeps of space with a blinding splendor ? I thought not.

Queen Yolande wanted Joan to make the best possible impression upon the King and the Court, so she was strenuous to have her clothed in the richest stuffs, wrought upon the princeliest pattern, and set off with jewels ; but in that she had to be disappointed, of course, Joan not being persuadable to it, but begging to be simply and sincerely dressed, as became a servant of God, and one sent upon a mission of a serious sort and grave political import. So then the gracious Queen imagined and contrived that simple and witching costume which I have described to you so many times, and which I cannot think of even now in my dull age without being moved just as rhythmical and exquisite music moves one ; for that was music, that dress — that is what it was — music that one saw with the eyes and felt in the heart. Yes, she was a poem, she was a dream, she was a spirit when she was clothed in that.

She kept that raiment always, and wore it several times upon occasions of state, and it is preserved to this day in the Treasury of Orleans, with two of her swords, and her banner, and other things now sacred because they had belonged to her.

At the appointed time the Count of Vendôme, a great lord of the court, came richly clothed, with his train of servants 109and assistants, to conduct Joan to the King, and the two knights and I went with her, being entitled to this privilege by reason of our official positions near her person.

When we entered the great audience hall, there it all was, just as I have already painted it. Here were ranks of guards in shining armor and with polished halberds ; two sides of the hall were like flower-gardens for variety of color and the magnificence of the costumes ; light streamed upon these masses of color from two hundred and fifty flambeaux. There was a wide free space down the middle of the hall, and at the end of it was a throne royally canopied, and upon it sat a crowned and sceptred figure nobly clothed and blazing with jewels.

It is true that Joan had been hindered and put off a good while, but now that she was admitted to an audience at last, she was received with honors granted to only the greatest personages. At the entrance door stood four heralds in a row, in splendid tabards, with long slender silver trumpets at their mouths, with square silken banners depending from them embroidered with the arms of France. As Joan and the Count passed by, these trumpets gave forth in unison one long rich note, and as we moved down the hall under the pictured and gilded vaulting, this was repeated at every fifty feet of our progress — six times in all. It made our good knights proud and happy, and they held themselves erect, and stiffened their stride, and looked fine and soldierly. They were not expecting this beautiful and honorable tribute to our little country maid.

Joan walked two yards behind the Count, we three walked two yards behind Joan. Our solemn march ended when we were as yet some eight or ten steps from the throne. The Count made a deep obeisance, pronounced Joan’s name, then bowed again and moved to his place among a group of officials near the throne. I was devouring the crowned personage with all my eyes, and my heart almost stood still with awe.

The eyes of all others were fixed upon Joan in a gaze of 110wonder which was half worship, and which seemed to say, How sweet — how lovely — how divine ! All lips were parted and motionless, which was a sure sign that those people, who seldom forget themselves, had forgotten themselves now, and were not conscious of anything but the one object they were gazing upon. They had the look of people who are under the enchantment of a vision.

Then they presently began to come to life again, rousing themselves out of the spell and shaking it off as one drives away little by little a clinging drowsiness or intoxication. Now they fixed their attention upon Joan with a strong new interest of another sort ; they were full of curiosity to see what she would do — they having a secret and particular reason for this curiosity. So they watched. This is what they saw :

She made no obeisance, nor even any slight inclination of her head, but stood looking toward the throne in silence. That was all there was to see, at present.

I glanced up at De Metz, and was shocked at the paleness of his face. I whispered and said —

What is it, man ; what is it ?

His answering whisper was so weak I could hardly catch it —

They have taken advantage of the hint in her letter to play a trick upon her ! She will err, and they will laugh at her. That is not the King that sits there.

Then I glanced at Joan. She was still gazing steadfastly toward the throne, and I had the curious fancy that even her shoulders and the back of her head expressed bewilderment. Now she turned her head slowly, and her eye wandered along the lines of standing courtiers till it fell upon a young man who was very quietly dressed ; then her face lighted joyously, and she ran and threw herself at his feet, and clasped his knees, exclaiming in that soft melodious voice which was her birthright and was now charged with deep and tender feeling —

God of his grace give you long life, O dear and gentle Dauphin !

111In his astonishment and exultation De Metz cried out —

By the shadow of God, it is an amazing thing ! Then he mashed all the bones of my hand in his grateful grip, and added, with a proud shake of his mane, Now, what have these painted infidels to say !

Meantime the young person in the plain clothes was saying to Joan —

Ah, you mistake, my child, I am not the King. There he is, and he pointed to the throne.

The knight’s face clouded, and he muttered in grief and indignation —

Ah, it is a shame to use her so. But for this lie she had gone through safe. I will go and proclaim to all the house what —

Stay where you are ! whispered I and the Sieur Bertrand in a breath, and made him stop in his place.

Joan did not stir from her knees, but still lifted her happy face toward the King, and said —

No, gracious liege, you are he, and none other.

De Metz’s troubles vanished away, and he said—

Verily, she was not guessing, she knew. Now, how could she know ? It is a miracle. I am content, and will meddle no more, for I perceive that she is equal to her occasions, having that in her head that cannot profitably be helped by the vacancy that is in mine.

This interruption of his lost me a remark or two of the other talk ; however, I caught the King’s next question —

But tell me who you are, and what would you ?

I am called Joan the Maid, and am sent to say that the King of Heaven wills that you be crowned and consecrated in your good city of Rheims, and be thereafter Lieutenant of the Lord of Heaven, who is King of France. And He willeth also that you set me at my appointed work and give me men-at-arms. After a slight pause she added, her eye lighting at the sound of her words, For then will I raise the siege of Orleans and break the English power !

The young monarch’s amused face sobered a little when 112this martial speech fell upon that sick air like a breath blown from embattled camps and fields of war, and his trifling smile presently faded wholly away and disappeared. He was grave now, and thoughtful. After a little he waved his hand lightly, and all the people fell away and left those two by themselves in a vacant space. The knights and I moved to the opposite side of the hall and stood there. We saw Joan rise at a sign, then she and the King talked privately together.

All that host had been consumed with curiosity to see what Joan would do. Well, they had seen, and now they were full of astonishment to see that she had really performed that strange miracle according to the promise in her letter ; and they were fully as much astonished to find that she was not overcome by the pomps and splendors about her, but was even more tranquil and at her ease in holding speech with a monarch than ever they themselves had been, with all their practice and experience.

As for our two knights, they were inflated beyond measure with pride in Joan, but nearly dumb, as to speech, they not being able to think out any way to account for her managing to carry herself through this imposing ordeal without ever a mistake or an awkwardness of any kind to mar the grace and credit of her great performance.

The talk between Joan and the King was long and earnest, and held in low voices. We could not hear, but we had our eyes and could note effects, and presently we and all the house noted one effect which was memorable and striking, and has been set down in memoirs and histories and in testimony at the Process of Rehabilitation by some who witnessed it ; for all knew it was big with meaning, though none knew what that meaning was at that time, of course. For suddenly we saw the King shake off his indolent attitude and straighten up like a man, and at the same time look immeasurably astonished. It was as if Joan had told him something almost too wonderful for belief, and yet of a most uplifting and welcome nature.

It was long before we found out the secret of this conversation, 113but we know it now, and all the world knows it. That part of the talk was like this — as one may read in all histories. The perplexed King asked Joan for a sign. He wanted to believe in her and her mission, and that her Voices were supernatural and endowed with knowledge hidden from mortals ; but how could he do this unless these Voices could prove their claim in some absolutely unassailable way ? It was then that Joan said —

I will give you a sign, and you shall no more doubt. There is a secret trouble in your heart which you speak of to none — a doubt which wastes away your courage, and makes you dream of throwing all away and fleeing from your realm. Within this little while you have been praying, in your own breast, that God of his grace would resolve that doubt, even if the doing of it must show you that no kingly right is lodged in you.

It was that that amazed the King, for it was as she had said : his prayer was the secret of his own breast, and none but God could know about it. So he said —

The sign is sufficient. I know, now, that these Voices are of God. They have said true in this matter ; if they have said more, tell it me — I will believe.

They have resolved that doubt, and I bring their very words, which are these : Thou art lawful heir to the King thy father, and true heir of France. God has spoken it. Now lift up thy head, and doubt no more, but give me men-at-arms and let me get about my work.

Telling him he was of lawful birth was what straightened him up and made a man of him for a moment, removing his doubts upon that head, and convincing him of his royal right ; and if any could have hanged his hindering and pestiferous council and set him free, he would have answered Joan’s prayer and set her in the field. But no, those creatures were only checked, not checkmated ; they could invent some more delays.

We had been made proud by the honors which had so distinguished Joan’s entrance into that place — honors restricted 114to personages of very high rank and worth — but that pride was as nothing compared with the pride we had in the honor done her upon leaving it. For whereas those first honors were shown only to the great, these last, up to this time, had been shown only to the royal. The King himself led Joan by the hand down the great hall to the door, the glittering multitude standing and making reverence as they passed, and the silver trumpets sounding those rich notes of theirs. Then he dismissed her with gracious words, bending low over her hand and kissing it. Always — from all companies, high or low — she went forth richer in honor and esteem than when she came.

And the King did another handsome thing by Joan, for he sent us back to Courdray Castle torch-lighted and in state, under escort of his own troop — his guard of honor — the only soldiers he had ; and finely equipped and bedizened they were too, though they hadn’t seen the color of their wages since they were children, as a body might say. The wonders which Joan had been performing before the King had been carried all around by this time, so the road was so packed with people who wanted to get a sight of her that we could hardly dig through ; and as for talking together, we couldn’t, all attempts at talk being drowned in the storm of shoutings and huzzas that broke out all along as we passed, and kept abreast of us like a wave the whole way.

115Chapter 7

Our Paladin in His Glory

We were doomed to suffer tedious waits and delays, and we settled ourselves down to our fate and bore it with a dreary patience, counting the slow hours and the dull days, and hoping for a turn when God should please to send it. The Paladin was the only exception — that is to say, he was the only one who was happy and had no heavy times. This was partly owing to the satisfaction he got out of his clothes. He bought them when he first arrived. He bought them at second hand — a Spanish cavalier’s complete suit, wide-brimmed hat with flowing plumes, lace collar and cuffs, faded velvet doublet and trunks, short cloak hung from the shoulder, funnel-topped buskins, long rapier, and all that — a graceful and picturesque costume, and the Paladin’s great frame was the right place to hang it for effect. He wore it when off duty ; and when he swaggered by with one hand resting on the hilt of his rapier, and twirling his new mustache with the other, everybody stopped to look and admire ; and well they might, for he was a fine and stately contrast to the small French gentleman of the day squeezed into the trivial French costume of the time.

He was king bee of the little village that snuggled under the shelter of the frowning towers and bastions of Courdray Castle, and acknowledged lord of the tap-room of the inn. When he opened his mouth there, he got a hearing. Those simple artisans and peasants listened with deep and wondering interest ; for he was a traveller and had seen the world — all of it that lay between Chinon and Domremy, at any rate — and that was a wide stretch more of it than they might ever hope to see ; and he had been in battle, and knew how to 116paint its shock and struggle, its perils and surprises, with an art that was all his own. He was cock of that walk, hero of that hostelry ; he drew custom as honey draws flies ; so he was the pet of the innkeeper, and of his wife and daughter, and they were his obliged and willing servants.

Most people who have the narrative gift — that great and rare endowment — have with it the defect of telling their choice things over the same way every time, and this injures them and causes them to sound stale and wearisome after several repetitions ; but it was not so with the Paladin, whose art was of a finer sort ; it was more stirring and interesting to hear him tell about a battle the tenth time than it was the first time, because he did not tell it twice the same way, but always made a new battle of it, and a better one, with more casualties on the enemy’s side each time, and more general wreck and disaster all around and more widows and orphans and suffering in the neighborhood where it happened. He could not tell his battles apart himself, except by their names ; and by the time he had told one of them ten times he had to lay it aside and start a new one in its place, because it had grown so that there wasn’t room enough in France for it any more, but was lapping over the edges. But up to that point the audience would not allow him to substitute a new battle, knowing that the old ones were the best, and sure to improve as long as France could hold them ; and so, instead of saying to him as they would have said to another, Give us something fresh, we are fatigued with that old thing, they would say, with one voice and with a strong interest, Tell about the surprise at Beaulieu again — tell it three or four times ! That is a compliment which few narrative experts have heard in their lifetime.

At first when the Paladin heard us tell about the glories of the Royal Audience he was broken-hearted because he was not taken with us to it, next, his talk was full of what he would have done if he had been there ; and within two days he was telling what he did do when he was there. His mill was fairly started, now, and could be trusted to take care of 117its affair. Within three nights afterwards all his battles were taking a rest, for already his worshippers in the tap-room were so infatuated with the great tale of the Royal Audience that they would have nothing else, and so besotted with it were they that they would have cried if they could not have gotten it.

Noël Rainguesson hid himself and heard it, and came and told me, and after that we went together to listen, bribing the inn hostess to let us have her little private parlor, where we could stand at the wickets in the door and see and hear.

The tap-room was large, yet had a snug and cosey look, with its inviting little tables and chairs scattered irregularly over its red brick floor, and its great fire flaming and crackling in the wide chimney. It was a comfortable place to be in on such chilly and blustering March nights as these, and a goodly company had taken shelter there, and were sipping their wine in contentment and gossiping one with another in a neighborly way while they waited for the historian. The host, the hostess, and their pretty daughter were flying here and there and yonder among the tables and doing their best to keep up with the orders. The room was about forty feet square, and a space or aisle down the centre of it had been kept vacant and reserved for the Paladin’s needs. At the end of it was a platform ten or twelve feet wide, with a big chair and a small table on it, and three steps leading up to it.

Among the wine-sippers were many familiar faces : the cobbler, the farrier, the blacksmith, the wheelwright, the armorer, the maltster, the weaver, the baker, the miller’s man with his dusty coat, and so on ; and conspicuous and important, as a matter of course, was the barber-surgeon, for he is that in all villages. As he has to pull everybody’s teeth, and purge and bleed all the grown people once a month to keep their health sound, he knows everybody, and by constant contact with all sorts of folk becomes a master of etiquette and manners and a conversationalist of large facility. There were plenty of carriers, drovers, and their sort, and journeymen artisans.

When the Paladin presently came sauntering indolently in, 118he was received with a cheer, and the barber bustled forward and greeted him with several low and most graceful and courtly bows, also taking his hand and touching his lips to it. Then he called in a loud voice for a stoup of wine for the Paladin, and when the host’s daughter brought it up on to the platform and dropped her courtesy and departed, the barber called after her, and told her to add the wine to his score. This won him ejaculations of approval, which pleased him very much and made his little rat-eyes shine ; and such applause is right and proper, for when we do a liberal and gallant thing it is but natural that we should wish to see notice taken of it.

The barber called upon the people to rise and drink the Paladin’s health, and they did it with alacrity and affectionate heartiness, clashing their metal flagons together with a simultaneous crash, and heightening the effect with a resounding cheer. It was a fine thing to see how that young swashbuckler had made himself so popular in a strange land in so little a while, and without other helps to his advancement than just his tongue and the talent to use it given him by God — a talent which was but one talent in the beginning, but was now become ten through husbandry and the increment and usufruct that do naturally follow that and reward it as by a law.

The people sat down and began to hammer on the tables with their flagons and call for the King’s Audience ! — the King’s Audience ! — the King’s Audience ! The Paladin stood there in one of his best attitudes, with his plumed great hat tipped over to the left, the folds of his short cloak drooping from his shoulder, and the one hand resting upon the hilt of his rapier and the other lifting his beaker. As the noise died down he made a stately sort of a bow, which he had picked up somewhere, then fetched his beaker with a sweep to his lips and tilted his head back and drained it to the bottom. The barber jumped for it and set it upon the Paladin’s table. Then the Paladin began to walk up and down his platform with a great deal of dignity and quite at his ease ; and as he 119walked he talked, and every little while stopped and stood facing his house and so standing continued his talk.

We went three nights in succession. It was plain that there was a charm about the performance that was apart from the mere interest which attaches to lying. It was presently discoverable that this charm lay in the Paladin’s sincerity. He was not lying consciously ; he believed what he was saying. To him, his initial statements were facts, and whenever he enlarged a statement, the enlargement became a fact too. He put his heart into his extravagant narrative, just as a poet puts his heart into a heroic fiction, and his earnestness disarmed criticism — disarmed it as far as he himself was concerned. Nobody believed his narrative, but all believed that he believed it.

He made his enlargements without flourish, without emphasis, and so casually that often one failed to notice that a change had been made. He spoke of the governor of Vaucouleurs, the first night, simply as the governor of Vaucouleurs ; he spoke of him the second night as his uncle the governor of Vaucouleurs ; the third night he was his father. He did not seem to know that he was making these extraordinary changes ; they dropped from his lips in a quite natural and effortless way. By his first night’s account the governor merely attached him to the Maid’s military escort in a general and unofficial way ; the second night his uncle the governor sent him with the Maid as lieutenant of her rear guard ; the third night his father the governor put the whole command, Maid and all, in his especial charge. The first night the governor spoke of him as a youth without name or ancestry, but destined to achieve both’ ; the second night his uncle the governor spoke of him as the latest and worthiest lineal descendant of the chiefest and noblest of the Twelve Paladins of Charlemagne ; the third night he spoke of him as the lineal descendant of the whole dozen. In three nights he promoted the Count of Vendôme from a fresh acquaintance to schoolmate, and then brother-in-law.

At the King’s Audience everything grew in the same way. 120First the four silver trumpets were twelve, then thirty-five, finally ninety-six ; and by that time he had thrown in so many drums and cymbals that he had to lengthen the hall from five hundred feet to nine hundred to accommodate them. Under his hand the people present multiplied in the same large way.

The first two nights he contented himself with merely describing and exaggerating the chief dramatic incident of the Audience, but the third night he added illustration to description. He throned the barber in his own high chair to represent the sham King ; then he told how the Court watched the Maid with intense interest and suppressed merriment, expecting to see her fooled by the deception and get herself swept permanently out of credit by the storm of scornful laughter which would follow. He worked this scene up till he got his house in a burning fever of excitement and anticipation, then came his climax. Turning to the barber, he said —

But mark you what she did. She gazed steadfastly upon that sham’s villain face as I now gaze upon yours — this being her noble and simple attitude, just as I stand now — then turned she — thus — to me, and stretching her arm out — so — and pointing with her finger, she said, in that firm, calm tone which she was used to use in directing the conduct of a battle, Pluck me this false knave from the throne ! I, striding forward as I do now, took him by the collar and lifted him out and held him aloft — thus — as if he had been but a child. (The house rose, shouting, stamping, and banging with their flagons, and went fairly mad over this magnificent exhibition of strength — and there was not the shadow of a laugh anywhere, though the spectacle of the limp but proud barber hanging there in the air like a puppy held by the scruff of its neck was a thing that had nothing of solemnity about it.) Then I set him down upon his feet — thus — being minded to get him by a better hold and heave him out of the window, but she bid me forbear, so by that error he escaped with his life.

Then she turned her about and viewed the throng with those eyes of hers, which are the clear-shining windows whence her immortal wisdom looketh out upon the world, resolving 121its falsities and coming at the kernel of truth that is hid within them, and presently they fell upon a young man modestly clothed, and him she proclaimed for what he truly was, saying, I am thy servant — thou art the King ! Then all were astonished, and a great shout went up, the whole six thousand joining in it, so that the walls rocked with the volume and the tumult of it.

He made a fine and picturesque thing of the march-out from the Audience, augmenting the glories of it to the last limit of the impossibilities ; then he took from his finger and held up a brass nut from a bolt-head which the head ostler at the castle had given him that morning, and made his conclusion — thus :

Then the King dismissed the Maid most graciously — as indeed was her desert — and turning to me, said, Take this signet-ring, son of the Paladins, and command me with it in your day of need ; and look you, said he, touching my temple, preserve this brain, France has use for it ; and look well to its casket also, for I foresee that it will be hooped with a ducal coronet one day. I took the ring, and knelt and kissed his hand, saying, Sire, where glory calls, there will I be found ; where danger and death are thickest, that is my native air ; when France and the throne need help — well, I say nothing, for I am not of the talking sort — let my deeds speak for me, it is all I ask.

So ended that most fortunate and memorable episode, so big with future weal for the crown and the nation, and unto God be the thanks ! Rise ! Fill your flagons ! Now — to France and the King — drink !

They emptied them to the bottom, then burst into cheers and huzzas, and kept it up as much as two minutes, the Paladin standing at stately ease the while and smiling benignantly from his platform.

122Chapter 8

Joan Persuades Her Inquisitors

When Joan told the King what that deep secret was that was torturing his heart, his doubts were cleared away ; he believed she was sent of God, and if he had been let alone he would have set her upon her great mission at once. But he was not let alone. Tremouille and the holy fox of Rheims knew their man. All they needed to say was this — and they said it —

Your Highness says her Voices have revealed to you, by her mouth, a secret known only to yourself and God. How can you know that her Voices are not of Satan, and she his mouthpiece ? — for does not Satan know the secrets of men and use his knowledge for the destruction of their souls ? It is a dangerous business, and your Highness will do well not to proceed in it without probing the matter to the bottom.

That was enough. It shrivelled up the King’s little soul like a raisin, with terrors and apprehensions, and straightway he privately appointed a commission of bishops to visit and question Joan daily until they should find out whether her supernatural helps hailed from heaven or from hell.

The King’s relative, the Duke of Alençon, three years prisoner of war to the English, was in these days released from captivity through promise of a great ransom ; and the name and fame of the Maid having reached him — for the same filled all mouths now, and penetrated to all parts — he came to Chinon to see with his own eyes what manner of creature she might be. The King sent for Joan and introduced her to the Duke. She said, in her simple fashion —

You are welcome ; the more of the blood of France that is joined to this cause, the better for the cause and it.

123Then the two talked together, and there was just the usual result : when they parted, the Duke was her friend and advocate.

Joan attended the King’s mass the next day, and afterward dined with the King and the Duke. The King was learning to prize her company and value her conversation ; and that might well be, for, like other kings, he was used to getting nothing out of people’s talk but guarded phrases, colorless and non-committal, or carefully tinted to tally with the color of what he said himself ; and so this kind of conversation only vexes and bores, and is wearisome ; but Joan’s talk was fresh and free, sincere and honest, and unmarred by timorous self-watching and constraint. She said the very thing that was in her mind, and said it in a plain, straightforward way. One can believe that to the King this must have been like fresh cold water from the mountains to parched lips used to the water of the sun-baked puddles of the plain.

After dinner Joan so charmed the Duke with her horsemanship and lance practice in the meadows by the Castle of Chinon, whither the King also had come to look on, that he made her a present of a great black war-steed.

Every day the commission of bishops came and questioned Joan about her Voices and her mission, and then went to the King with their report. These pryings accomplished but little. She told as much as she considered advisable, and kept the rest to herself. Both threats and trickeries were wasted upon her. She did not care for the threats, and the traps caught nothing. She was perfectly frank and childlike about these things. She knew the bishops were sent by the King, that their questions were the King’s questions, and that by all law and custom a King’s questions must be answered ; yet she told the King in her naïve way at his own table one day that she answered only such of those questions as suited her.

The bishops finally concluded that they couldn’t tell whether Joan was sent by God or not. They were cautious, you see. There were two powerful parties at Court ; therefore to make a decision either way would infallibly embroil them with one of 124those parties ; so it seemed to them wisest to roost on the fence and shift the burden to other shoulders. And that is what they did. They made final report that Joan’s case was beyond their powers, and recommended that it be put into the hands of the learned and illustrious doctors of the University of Poitiers. Then they retired from the field, leaving behind them this little item of testimony, wrung from them by Joan’s wise reticence : they said she was a gentle and simple little shepherdess, very candid, but not given to talking.

It was quite true — in their case. But if they could have looked back and seen her with us in the happy pastures of Domremy, they would have perceived that she had a tongue that could go fast enough when no harm could come of her words.

So we travelled to Poitiers, to endure there three weeks of tedious delay while this poor child was being daily questioned and badgered before a great bench of — what ? Military experts ? — since what she had come to apply for was an army and the privilege of leading it to battle against the enemies of France. Oh no ; it was a great bench of priests and monks — profoundly learned and astute casuists — renowned professors of theology ! Instead of setting a military commission to find out if this valorous little soldier could win victories, they set a company of holy hair-splitters and phrase-mongers to work to find out if the soldier was sound in her piety and had no doctrinal leaks. The rats were devouring the house, but instead of examining the cat’s teeth and claws, they only concerned themselves to find out if it was a holy cat. If it was a pious cat, a moral cat, all right, never mind about the other capacities, they were of no consequence.

Joan was as sweetly self-possessed and tranquil before this grim tribunal, with its robed celebrities, its solemn state and imposing ceremonials, as if she were but a spectator and not herself on trial. She sat there, solitary on her bench, untroubled, and disconcerted the science of the sages with her sublime ignorance — an ignorance which was a fortress ; arts, 125wiles, the learning drawn from books, and all like missiles rebounded from its unconscious masonry and fell to the ground harmless ; they could not dislodge the garrison which was within — Joan’s serene great heart and spirit, the guards and keepers of her mission.

She answered all questions frankly, and she told all the story of her visions and of her experiences with the angels and what they said to her ; and the manner of the telling was so unaffected, and so earnest and sincere, and made it all seem so life-like and real, that even that hard practical court forgot itself and sat motionless and mute, listening with a charmed and wondering interest to the end. And if you would have other testimony than mine, look in the histories and you will find where an eye-witness, giving sworn testimony in the Rehabilitation process, says that she told that tale with a noble dignity and simplicity, and as to its effect, says in substance what I have said. Seventeen, she was — seventeen, and all alone on her bench by herself ; yet was not afraid, but faced that great company of erudite doctors of law and theology, and by the help of no art learned in the schools, but using only the enchantments which were hers by nature, of youth, sincerity, a voice soft and musical, and an eloquence whose source was the heart, not the head, she laid that spell upon them. Now was not that a beautiful thing to see ? If I could, I would put it before you just as I saw it ; then I know what you would say.

As I have told you, she could not read. One day they harried and pestered her with arguments, reasonings, objections and other windy and wordy trivialities, gathered out of the works of this and that and the other great theological authority, until at last her patience vanished, and she turned upon them sharply and said —

I don’t know A from B ; but I know this : that I am come by command of the Lord of Heaven to deliver Orleans from the English power and crown the King at Rheims, and the matters ye are puttering over are of no consequence !

126Necessarily those were trying days for her, and wearing for everybody that took part ; but her share was the hardest, for she had no holidays, but must be always on hand and stay the long hours through, whereas this, that, and the other inquisitor could absent himself and rest up from his fatigues when he got worn out. And yet she showed no wear, no weariness, and but seldom let fly her temper. As a rule she put her day through calm, alert, patient, fencing with those veteran masters of scholarly sword-play and coming out always without a scratch.

One day a Dominican sprung upon her a question which made everybody cock up his ears with interest ; as for me, I trembled, and said to myself she is caught this time, poor Joan, for there is no way of answering this. The sly Dominican began in this way — in a sort of indolent fashion, as if the thing he was about was a matter of no moment :

You assert that God has willed to deliver France from this English bondage ?

Yes, He has willed it.

You wish for men-at-arms, so that you may go to the relief of Orleans, I believe ?

Yes — and the sooner the better.

God is all-powerful, and able to do whatsoever thing He wills to do, is it not so ?

Most surely. None doubts it.

The Dominican lifted his head suddenly, and sprung that question I have spoken of, with exultation :

Then answer me this. If He has willed to deliver France, and is able to do whatsoever He wills, where is the need for men-at-arms ?

There was a fine stir and commotion when he said that, and a sudden thrusting forward of heads and putting up of hands to ears to catch the answer ; and the Dominican wagged his head with satisfaction, and looked about him collecting his applause, for it shone in every face. But Joan was not disturbed. There was no note of disquiet in her voice when she answered —

127He helps who help themselves. The sons of France will fight the battles, but He will give the victory !

You could see a light of admiration sweep the house from face to face like a ray from the sun. Even the Dominican himself looked pleased, to see his master-stroke so neatly parried, and I heard a venerable bishop mutter, in the phrasing common to priest and people in that robust time, By God, the child has said true. He willed that Goliath should be slain, and He sent a child like this to do it !

Another day, when the inquisition had dragged along until everybody looked drowsy and tired but Joan, brother Séguin, professor of theology in the University of Poitiers, who was a sour and sarcastic man, fell to plying Joan with all sorts of nagging questions in his bastard Limousin French — for he was from Limoges. Finally he said —

How is it that you could understand those angels ? What language did they speak ?

French.

Indeed ! How pleasant to know that our language is so honored ! Good French ?

Yes — perfect.

Perfect, eh ? Well, certainly you ought to know. It was even better than your own, eh ?

As to that, I — I believe I cannot say, said she, and was going on, but stopped. Then she added, almost as if she were saying it to herself, Still, it was an improvement on yours !

I knew there was a chuckle back of her eyes, for all their innocence. Everybody shouted. Brother Séguin was nettled, and asked brusquely —

Do you believe in God ?

Joan answered with an irritating nonchalance —

Oh, well, yes — better than you, it is likely.

Brother Séguin lost his patience, and heaped sarcasm after sarcasm upon her, and finally burst out in angry earnest, exclaiming —

Very well, I can tell you this, you whose belief in God is 128so great : God has not willed that any shall believe in you without a sign. Where is your sign ? — show it !

This roused Joan, and she was on her feet in a moment, and flung out her retort with spirit —

I have not come to Poitiers to show signs and do miracles. Send me to Orleans and you shall have signs enough. Give me men-at-arms — few or many — and let me go !

The fire was leaping from her eyes — ah, the heroic little figure ! can’t you see her ? There was a great burst of acclamations, and she sat down blushing, for it was not in her delicate nature to like being conspicuous.

This speech and that episode about the French language scored two points against Brother Séguin, while he scored nothing against Joan ; yet, sour man as he was, he was a manly man, and honest, as you can see by the histories ; for at the Rehabilitation he could have hidden those unlucky incidents if he had chosen, but he didn’t do it, but spoke them right out in his evidence.

On one of the later days of that three weeks’ session the gowned scholars and professors made one grand assault all along the line, fairly overwhelming Joan with objections and arguments culled from the writings of every ancient and illustrious authority of the Roman Church. She was well-nigh smothered ; but at last she shook herself free and struck back, crying out —

Listen ! The Book of God is worth more than all these ye cite, and I stand upon it. And I tell ye there are things in that Book that not one among ye can read, with all your learning !

From the first she was the guest by invitation, of the dame De Rabateau, wife of a councillor of the Parliament of Poitiers ; and to that house the great ladies of the city came nightly to see Joan and talk with her ; and not these only, but the old lawyers, councillors, and scholars of the Parliament and the University. And these grave men, accustomed to weigh every strange and questionable thing, and cautiously consider it, and turn it about this way and that 129and still doubt it, came night after night, and night after night, falling ever deeper and deeper under the influence of that mysterious something, that spell, that elusive and unwordable fascination, which was the supremest endowment of Joan of Arc, that winning and persuasive and convincing something which high and low alike recognized and felt, but which neither high nor low could explain or describe ; and one by one they all surrendered, saying, This child is sent of God.

All day long Joan, in the great court and subject to its rigid rules of procedure, was at a disadvantage ; her judges had things their own way ; but at night she held court herself, and matters were reversed, she presiding, with her tongue free and her same judges there before her. There could be but one result ; all the objections and hindrances they could build around her with their hard labors of the day she would charm away at night. In the end, she carried her judges with her in a mass, and got her great verdict without a dissenting voice.

The court was a sight to see when the president of it read it from his throne, for all the great people of the town were there who could get admission and find room. First there were some solemn ceremonies, proper and usual at such times ; then, when there was silence again, the reading followed, penetrating the deep hush so that every word was heard in even the remotest parts of the house :

It is found, and is hereby declared, that Joan of Arc, called the Maid, as a good Christian and good Catholic ; that there is nothing in her person or her words contrary to the faith ; and that the King may and ought to accept the succor she offers ; for to repel it would be to offend the Holy Spirit, and render him unworthy of the aid of God.

The court rose, and then the storm of plaudits burst forth unrebuked, dying down and bursting forth again and again, and I lost sight of Joan, for she was swallowed up in a great tide of people who rushed to congratulate her and pour out benedictions upon her and upon the cause of France, now solemnly and irrevocably delivered into her little hands.

130Chapter 9

She Is Made General-in-Chief

It was indeed a great day, and a stirring thing to see.

She had won ! It was a mistake of Tremouille and her other ill-wishers to let her hold court those nights.

The commission of priests sent to Lorraine ostensibly to inquire into Joan’s character — in fact to weary her with delays and wear out her purpose and make her give it up — arrived back and reported her character perfect. Our affairs were in full career now, you see.

The verdict made a prodigious stir. Dead France woke suddenly to life, wherever the great news travelled. Whereas before, the spiritless and cowed people hung their heads and slunk away if one mentioned war to them, now they came clamoring to be enlisted under the banner of the Maid of Vaucouleurs, and the roaring of war-songs and the thundering of the drums filled all the air. I remembered now what she had said, that time there in our village when I proved by facts and statistics that France’s case was hopeless, and nothing could ever rouse the people from their lethargy —

They will hear the drums — and they will answer, they will march !

It has been said that misfortunes never come one at a time, but in a body. In our case it was the same with good luck. Having got a start it came flooding in, tide after tide. Our next wave of it was of this sort. There had been grave doubts among the priests as to whether the Church ought to permit a female soldier to dress like a man. But now came a verdict on that head. Two of the greatest scholars and theologians of the time — one of whom had been Chancellor of the University of Paris — rendered it. They decided that 131since Joan must do the work of a man and a soldier, it is just and legitimate that her apparel should conform to the situation.

It was a great point gained, the Church’s authority to dress as a man. Oh yes, wave on wave the good luck came sweeping in. Never mind about the smaller waves, let us come to the largest one of all, the wave that swept us small fry quite off our feet and almost drowned us with joy. The day of the great verdict, couriers had been despatched to the King with it, and the next morning bright and early the clear notes of a bugle came floating to us on the crisp air, and we pricked up our ears and began to count them. One — two — three ; pause ; one — two ; pause ; one — two — three, again — and out we skipped and went flying ; for that formula was used only when the King’s herald-at-arms would deliver a proclamation to the people. As we hurried along, people came racing out of every street and house and alley, men, women, and children, all flushed, excited, and throwing lacking articles of clothing on as they ran ; still those clear notes pealed out, and still the rush of people increased till the whole town was abroad and streaming along the principal street. At last we reached the square, which was now packed with citizens, and there, high on the pedestal of the great cross, we saw the herald in his brilliant costume, with his servitors about him. The next moment he began his delivery in the powerful voice proper to his office —

Know all men, and take heed therefore, that the most high, the most illustrious Charles, by the grace of God King of France, hath been pleased to confer upon his well-beloved servant Joan of Arc, called the Maid, the title, emoluments, authorities, and dignity of General-in-Chief of the Armies of France —

Here a thousand caps flew into the air, and the multitude burst into a hurricane of cheers that raged and raged till it seemed as if it would never come to an end ; but at last it did ; then the herald went on and finished :

— and hath appointed to be her lieutenant and chief of 132staff a prince of his royal house, his grace the Duke of Alençon !

That was the end, and the hurricane began again, and was split up into innumerable strips by the blowers of it and wafted through all the lanes and streets of the town.

General of the Armies of France, with a prince of the blood for subordinate ! Yesterday she was nothing — to-day she was this. Yesterday she was not even a sergeant, not even a corporal, not even a private — to-day, with one step, she was at the top. Yesterday she was less than nobody to the newest recruit — to-day her command was law to La Hire, Saintrailles, the Bastard of Orleans, and all those others, veterans of old renown, illustrious masters of the trade of war. These were the thoughts I was thinking ; I was trying to realize this strange and wonderful thing that had happened, you see.

My mind went travelling back, and presently lighted upon a picture — a picture which was still so new and fresh in my memory that it seemed a matter of only yesterday — and indeed its date was no further back than the first days of January. This is what it was. A peasant girl in a far-off village, her seventeenth year not yet quite completed, and herself and her village as unknown as if they had been on the other side of the globe. She had picked up a friendless wanderer somewhere and brought it home — a small gray kitten in a forlorn and starving condition — and had fed it and comforted it and got its confidence and made it believe in her, and now it was curled up in her lap asleep, and she was knitting a coarse stocking and thinking — dreaming — about what, one may never know. And now —the kitten had hardly had time to become a cat, and yet already the girl is General of the Armies of France, with a prince of the blood to give orders to, and out of her village obscurity her name has climbed up like the sun and is visible from all corners of the land ! It made me dizzy to think of these things, they were so out of the common order, and seemed so impossible.

133Chapter 10

The Maid’s Sword and Banner

Joan’s first official act was to dictate a letter to the English commanders at Orleans, summoning them to deliver up all strongholds in their possession and depart out of France. She must have been thinking it all out before and arranging it in her mind, it flowed from her lips so smoothly, and framed itself into such vivacious and forcible language. Still, it might not have been so ; she always had a quick mind and a capable tongue, and her faculties were constantly developing in these latter weeks. This letter was to be forwarded presently from Blois. Men, provisions, and money were offering in plenty now, and Joan appointed Blois as a recruiting station and depot of supplies, and ordered up La Hire from the front to take charge.

The Great Bastard — him of the ducal house, and governor of Orleans — had been clamoring for weeks for Joan to be sent to him, and now came another messenger, old D’Aulon, a veteran officer, a trusty man and fine and honest. The King kept him, and gave him to Joan to be chief of her household, and commanded her to appoint the rest of her people herself, making their number and dignity accord with the greatness of her office ; and at the same time he gave order that they should be properly equipped with arms, clothing, and horses.

Meantime the King was having a complete suit of armor made for her at Tours. It was of the finest steel, heavily plated with silver, richly ornamented with engraved designs, and polished like a mirror.

Joan’s Voices had told her that there was an ancient sword hidden somewhere behind the altar of St. Catherine’s at Fierbois, and she sent De Metz to get it. The priests knew of 134no such sword, but a search was made, and sure enough it was found in that place, buried a little way under the ground. It had no sheath and was very rusty, but the priests polished it up and sent it to Tours, whither we were now to come. They also had a sheath of crimson velvet made for it, and the people of Tours equipped it with another one, made of cloth of gold. But Joan meant to carry this sword always in battle ; so she laid the showy sheaths away and got one made of leather. It was generally believed that this sword had belonged to Charlemagne, but that was only a matter of opinion. I wanted to sharpen that old blade, but she said it was not necessary as she should never kill anybody, and should carry it only as a symbol of authority.

At Tours she designed her Standard, and a Scotch painter named James Power made it. It was of the most delicate white boucassin, with fringes of silk. For device it bore the image of God the Father throned in the clouds and holding the world in His hand ; two angels knelt at His feet, presenting lilies ; inscription, Jesus, Maria ; on the reverse the crown of France supported by two angels.

She also caused a smaller standard or pennon to be made, whereon was represented an angel offering a lily to the Holy Virgin.

Everything was humming, there at Tours. Every now and then one heard the bray and crash of military music, every little while one heard the measured tramp of marching men — squads of recruits leaving for Blois ; songs and shoutings and huzzas filled the air night and day, the town was full of strangers, the streets and inns were thronged, the bustle of preparation was everywhere, and everybody carried a glad and cheerful face. Around Joan’s headquarters a crowd of people was always massed, hoping for a glimpse of the new General, and when they got it, they went wild ; but they seldom got it, for she was busy planning her campaign, receiving reports, giving orders, despatching couriers, and giving what odd moments she could spare to the companies of great folk waiting in the 135drawing-rooms. As for us boys, we hardly saw her at all, she was so occupied.

We were in a mixed state of mind — sometimes hopeful, sometimes not ; mostly not. She had not appointed her household yet — that was our trouble. We knew she was being overrun with applications for places in it, and that these applications were backed by great names and weighty influence, whereas we had nothing of the sort to recommend us. She could fill her humblest places with titled folk — folk whose relationships would be a bulwark for her and a valuable support at all times. In these circumstances would policy allow her to consider us ? We were not as cheerful as the rest of the town, but were inclined to be depressed and worried. Sometimes we discussed our slim chances, and gave them as good an appearance as we could. But the very mention of the subject was anguish to the Paladin ; for whereas we had some little hope, he had none at all. As a rule, Noël Rainguesson was quite willing to let the dismal matter alone ; but not when the Paladin was present. Once we were talking the thing over, when Noël said —

Cheer up, Paladin ; I had a dream last night, and you were the only one among us that got an appointment. It wasn’t a high one, but it was an appointment, anyway — some kind of a lackey or body-servant, or something of that kind.

The Paladin roused up and looked almost cheerful ; for he was a believer in dreams, and in anything and everything of a superstitious sort, in fact. He said, with a rising hopefulness —

I wish it might come true. Do you think it will come true ?

Certainly ; I might almost say I know it will, for my dreams hardly ever fail.

Noël, I could hug you if that dream could come true, I could indeed ! To be servant of the first General of France and have all the world hear of it, and the news go back to the village and make those gawks stare that always said I wouldn’t ever amount to anything — wouldn’t it be great ! 136Do you think it will come true, Noël ? Don’t you believe it will ?

I do. There’s my hand on it.

Noël, if it comes true I’ll never forget you — shake again ! I should be dressed in a noble livery, and the news would go to the village, and those animals would say, Him, lackey to the General-in-Chief, with the eyes of the whole world on him, admiring — well, he has shot up into the sky, now, hasn’t he ?

He began to walk the floor and pile castles in the air so fast and so high that we could hardly keep up with him. Then all of a sudden all the joy went out of his face and misery took its place, and he said —

Oh dear, it is all a mistake, it will never come true. I forgot about that foolish business at Toul. I have kept out of her sight as much as I could, all these weeks, hoping she would forget that and forgive it — but I know she never will. She can’t, of course. And, after all, I wasn’t to blame. I did say she promised to marry me, but they put me up to it and persuaded me, I swear they did ! The vast creature was almost crying. Then he pulled himself together and said, remorsefully, It was the only lie I’ve ever told, and —

He was drowned out with a chorus of groans and outraged exclamations ; and before he could begin again, one of D’Aulon’s liveried servants appeared and said we were required at headquarters. We rose, and Noël said —

There — what did I tell you ? I have a presentiment — the spirit of prophecy is upon me. She is going to appoint him, and we are to go there and do him homage. Come along !

But the Paladin was afraid to go, so we left him.

When we presently stood in the presence, in front of a crowd of glittering officers of the army, Joan greeted us with a winning smile, and said she appointed all of us to places in her household, for she wanted her old friends by her. It was a beautiful surprise to have ourselves honored like this when she could have had people of birth and consequence instead, 137but we couldn’t find our tongues to say so, she was become so great and so high above us now. One at a time we stepped forward and each received his warrant from the hand of our chief, D’Aulon. All of us had honorable places : the two knights stood highest ; then Joan’s two brothers ; I was first page and secretary, a young gentleman named Raimond was second page ; Noël was her messenger ; she had two heralds, and also a chaplain and almoner, whose name was Jean Pasquerel. She had previously appointed a maître d’hôtel and a number of domestics. Now she looked around and said —

But where is the Paladin ?

The Sieur Bertrand said —

He thought he was not sent for, your Excellency.

Now that is not well. Let him be called.

The Paladin entered humbly enough. He ventured no farther than just within the door. He stopped there, looking embarrassed and afraid. Then Joan spoke pleasantly, and said —

I watched you on the road. You began badly, but improved. Of old you were a fantastic talker, but there is a man in you, and I will bring it out. It was fine to see the Paladin’s face light up when she said that. Will you follow where I lead ?

Into the fire ! he said ; and I said to myself, By the ring of that, I think she has turned this braggart into a hero. It is another of her miracles, I make no doubt of it.

I believe you, said Joan. Here — take my banner. You will ride with me in every field, and when France is saved you will give it me back.

He took the banner, which is now the most precious of the memorials that remain of Joan of Arc, and his voice was unsteady with emotion when he said —

If I ever disgrace this trust, my comrades here will know how to do a friend’s office upon my body, and this charge I lay upon them, as knowing they will not fail me.

138Chapter 11

The War March Is Begun

Noel and I went back together — silent at first, and impressed. Finally Noël came up out of his thinkings and said —

The first shall be last and the last first — there’s authority for this surprise. But at the same time wasn’t it a lofty hoist for our big bull !

It truly was ; I am not over being stunned yet. It was the greatest place in her gift.

Yes, it was. There are many generals, and she can create more ; but there is only one Standard-Bearer.

True. It is the most conspicuous place in the army, after her own.

And the most coveted and honorable. Sons of two dukes tried to get it, as we know. and of all people in the world, this majestic windmill carries it off. Well, isn’t it a gigantic promotion, when you come to look at it !

There’s no doubt about it. It’s a kind of copy of Joan’s own in miniature.

I don’t know how to account for it — do you ?

Yes, without any trouble at all — that is, I think I do.

Noël was surprised at that, and glanced up quickly, as if to see if I was in earnest. He said —

I thought you couldn’t be in earnest, but I see you are. If you can make me understand this puzzle, do it. Tell me what the explanation is.

I believe I can. You have noticed that our chief knight says a good many wise things and has a thoughtful head on his shoulders. One day, riding along, we were talking about Joan’s great talents, and he said, But, greatest of all her 139gifts, she has the seeing eye. I said, like an unthinking fool, The seeing eye ? — I shouldn’t count that for much, I suppose we all have it. No, he said ; very few have it. Then he explained, and made his meaning clear. He said the common eye sees only the outside of things, and judges by that ; but the seeing eye pierces through and reads the heart and the soul, finding there capacities which the outside didn’t indicate or promise, and which the other kind of eye couldn’t detect. He said the mightiest military genius must fail and come to nothing if it have not the seeing eye — that is to say, if it cannot read men and select its subordinates with an infallible judgment. It sees as by intuition that this man is good for strategy, that one for dash and dare-devil assault, the other for patient bull-dog persistence, and it appoints each to his right place and wins ; while the commander without the seeing eye would give to each the other’s place and lose. He was right about Joan, and I saw it. When she was a child and the tramp came one night, her father and all of us took him for a rascal, but she saw the honest man through the rags. When I dined with the governor of Vaucouleurs so long ago, I saw nothing in our two knights, though I sat with them and talked with them two hours ; Joan was there five minutes, and neither spoke with them nor heard them speak, yet she marked them for men of worth and fidelity, and they have confirmed her judgment. Whom has she sent for to take charge of this thundering rabble of new recruits at Blois, made up of old disbanded Armagnac raiders, unspeakable hellions, every one ? Why, she has sent for Satan himself — that is to say, La Hire — that military hurricane, that godless swashbuckler, that lurid conflagration of blasphemy, that Vesuvius of profanity, forever in eruption. Does he know how to deal with that mob of roaring devils ? Better than any man that lives ; for he is the head devil of this world his own self, he is the match of the whole of them combined, and probably the father of most of them. She places him in temporary command until she can get to Blois herself — and then ! Why, then she will certainly take them 140in hand personally, or I don’t know her as well as I ought to, after all these years of intimacy. That will be a sight to see — that fair spirit in her white armor, delivering her will to that muck-heap, that rag-pile, that abandoned refuse of perdition.

La Hire ! cried Noël, our hero of all these years — I do want to see that man !

I too. His name stirs me just as it did when I was a little boy.

I want to hear him swear.

Of course. I would rather hear him swear than another man pray. He is the frankest man there is, and the naïvest. Once when he was rebuked for pillaging on his raids, he said it was nothing. Said he, If God the Father were a soldier, He would rob. I judge he is the right man to take temporary charge there at Blois. Joan has cast the seeing eye upon him, you see.

Which brings us back to where we started. I have an honest affection for the Paladin, and not merely because he is a good fellow, but because he is my child — I made him what he is, the windiest blusterer and most catholic liar in the kingdom. I’m glad of his luck, but I hadn’t the seeing eye. I shouldn’t have chosen him for the most dangerous post in the army ; I should have placed him in the rear to kill the wounded and violate the dead.

Well, we shall see. Joan probably knows what is in him better than we do. And I’ll give you another idea. When a person in Joan of Arc’s position tells a man he is brave, he believes it, and believing it is enough ; in fact, to believe yourself brave is to be brave ; it is the one only essential thing.

Now you’ve hit it ! cried Noël. She’s got the creating mouth as well as the seeing eye ! Ah yes, that is the thing. France was cowed and a coward ; Joan of Arc has spoken, and France is marching, with her head up !

I was summoned now, to write a letter from Joan’s dictation. During the next day and night our several uniforms 141were made by the tailors, and our new armor provided. We were beautiful to look upon now, whether clothed for peace or war. Clothed for peace, in costly stuffs and rich colors, the Paladin was a tower dyed with the glories of the sunset ; plumed and sashed and iron-clad for war, he was a still statelier thing to look at.

Orders had been issued for the march towards Blois. It was a clear, sharp beautiful morning. As our showy great company trotted out in column, riding two and two, Joan and the Duke of Alençon in the lead, D’Aulon and the big standard-bearer next, and so on, we made a handsome spectacle as you may well imagine, and as we ploughed through the cheering crowds, with Joan bowing her plumed head to left and right and the sun glinting from her silver mail, the spectators realized that the curtain was rolling up before their eyes upon the first act of a prodigious drama, and their rising hopes were expressed in an enthusiasm that increased with each moment, until at last one seemed to even physically feel the concussion of the huzzas as well as hear them. Far down the street we heard the softened strains of wind-blown music, and saw a cloud of lancers moving, the sun glowing with a subdued light upon the massed armor but striking bright upon the soaring lance-heads — a vaguely luminous nebula, so to speak, with a constellation twinkling above it — and that was our guard of honor. It joined us, the procession was complete, the first war-march of Joan of Arc was begun, the curtain was up.

142Chapter 12

Joan Puts Heart in Her Army

We were at Blois three days. Oh, that camp, it is one of the treasures of my memory ! Order ? There was no more order among those brigands than there is among the wolves and the hyenas. They went roaring and drinking about, whooping, shouting, swearing, and entertaining themselves with all manner of rude and riotous horse-play ; and the place was full of loud and lewd women, and they were no whit behind the men for romps and noise and fantastics.

It was in the midst of this wild mob that Noël and I had our first glimpse of La Hire. He answered to our dearest dreams. He was of great size and of martial bearing, he was cased in mail from head to heel, with a bushel of swishing plumes on his helmet, and at his side the vast sword of the time.

He was on his way to pay his respects in state to Joan, and as he passed through the camp he was restoring order, and proclaiming that the Maid was come, and he would have no such spectacle as this exposed to the head of the army. His way of creating order was his own, not borrowed. He did it with his great fists. As he moved along swearing and admonishing, he let drive this way, that way, and the other, and wherever his blow landed, a man went down.

Damn you ! he said, staggering and cursing around like this, and the Commander-in-Chief in the camp ! Straighten up ! and he laid the man flat. What his idea of straightening up was, was his own secret.

We followed the veteran to headquarters, listening, observing, admiring — yes, devouring, you may say, the pet hero of the boys of France from our cradles up to that happy day, and 143their idol and ours. I called to mind how Joan had once rebuked the Paladin, there in the pastures of Domremy, for uttering lightly those mighty names, La Hire and the Bastard of Orleans, and how she said that if she could but be permitted to stand afar off and let her eyes rest once upon those great men, she would hold it a privilege. They were to her and the other girls just what they were to the boys. Well, here was one of them at last — and what was his errand ? It was hard to realize it, and yet it was true ; he was coming to uncover his head before her and take her orders.

While he was quieting a considerable group of his brigands in his soothing way, near headquarters, we stepped on ahead and got a glimpse of Joan’s military family, the great chiefs of the army, for they had all arrived now. There they were, six officers of wide renown, handsome men in beautiful armor, but the Lord High Admiral of France was the handsomest of them all and had the most gallant bearing.

When La Hire entered, one could see the surprise in his face at Joan’s beauty and extreme youth, and one could see, too, by Joan’s glad smile, that it made her happy to get sight of this hero of her childhood at last. La Hire bowed low, with his helmet in his gauntleted hand, and made a bluff but handsome little speech with hardly an oath in it, and one could see that those two took to each other on the spot.

The visit of ceremony was soon over, and the others went away ; but La Hire stayed, and he and Joan sat there, and he sipped her wine, and they talked and laughed together like old friends. And presently she gave him some instructions, in his quality as master of the camp, which made his breath stand still. For, to begin with, she said that all those loose women must pack out of the place at once, she wouldn’t allow one of them to remain. Next, the rough carousing must stop, drinking must be brought within proper and strictly defined limits, and discipline must take the place of disorder. And finally she climaxed the list of surprises with this — which nearly lifted him out of his armor —

Every man who joins my standard must confess before 144the priest and absolve himself from sin ; and all accepted recruits must be present at divine service twice a day.

La Hire could not say a word for a good part of a minute, then he said, in deep dejection :

Oh, sweet child, they were littered in hell, these poor darlings of mine ! Attend mass ? Why, dear heart, they’ll see us both damned first !

And he went on, pouring out a most pathetic stream of arguments and blasphemy, which broke Joan all up, and made her laugh as she had not laughed since she played in the Domremy pastures. It was good to hear.

But she stuck to her point, so the soldier yielded, and said all right, if such were the orders he must obey, and would do the best that was in him ; then he refreshed himself with a lurid explosion of oaths, and said that if any man in the camp refused to renounce sin and lead a pious life, he would knock his head off. That started Joan off again : she was really having a good time, you see. But she would not consent to that form of conversions. She said they must be voluntary.

La Hire said that that was all right, he wasn’t going to kill the voluntary ones, but only the others.

No matter, none of them must be killed — Joan couldn’t have it. She said that to give a man a chance to volunteer, on pain of death if he didn’t, left him more or less trammelled, and she wanted him to be entirely free.

So the soldier sighed and said he would advertise the mass, but said he doubted if there was a man in camp that was any more likely to go to it than he was himself. Then there was another surprise for him, for Joan said —

But dear man, you are going !

I ? Impossible ! Oh, this is lunacy !

Oh, no it isn’t. You are going to the service twice a day.

Oh, am I dreaming ? Am I drunk — or is my hearing playing me false ? Why, I would rather go to —

Never mind where. In the morning you are going to begin, and after that it will come easy. Now don’t look downhearted like that. Soon you won’t mind it.

145La Hire tried to cheer up, but he was not able to do it. He sighed like a zephyr, and presently said —

Well, I’ll do it for you, but before I would do it for another, I swear I —

But don’t swear. Break it off.

Break it off ? It is impossible. I beg you to — to — Why — oh, my General, it is my native speech !

He begged so hard for grace for his impediment, that Joan left him one fragment of it ; she said he might swear by his bâton, the symbol of his generalship.

He promised that he would swear only by his bâton when in her presence, and would try to modify himself elsewhere, but doubted if he could manage it, now that it was so old and stubborn a habit, and such a solace and support to his declining years.

That tough old lion went away from there a good deal tamed and civilized — not to say softened and sweetened, for perhaps those expressions would hardly fit him. Noël and I believed that when he was away from Joan’s influence his old aversions would come up so strong in him that he could not master them, and so wouldn’t go to mass. But we got up early in the morning to see.

Well, he really went. It was hardly believable, but there he was, striding along, holding himself grimly to his duty, and looking as pious as he could, but growling and cursing like a fiend. It was another instance of the same old thing ; whoever listened to the voice and looked into the eyes of Joan of Arc fell under a spell, and was not his own man any more.

Satan was converted, you see. Well, the rest followed. Joan rode up and down that camp, and wherever that fair young form appeared in its shining armor, with that sweet face to grace the vision and perfect it, the rude host seemed to think they saw the god of war in person, descended out of the clouds ; and first they wondered, then they worshipped. After that, she could do with them what she would.

In three days it was a clean camp and orderly, and those barbarians were herding to divine service twice a day like 146good children. The women were gone. La Hire was stunned by these marvels ; he could not understand them. He went outside the camp when he wanted to swear. He was that sort of a man — sinful by nature and habit, but full of superstitious respect for holy places.

The enthusiasm of the reformed army for Joan, its devotion to her, and the hot desire she had aroused in it to be led against the enemy, exceeded any manifestations of this sort which La Hire had ever seen before in his long career. His admiration of it all, and his wonder over the mystery and miracle of it, were beyond his power to put into words. He had held this army cheap before, but his pride and confidence in it knew no limits now. He said —

Two or three days ago it was afraid of a hen-roost ; one could storm the gates of hell with it now.

Joan and he were inseparable, and a quaint and pleasant contrast they made. He was so big, she so little ; he was so gray and so far along in his pilgrimage of life, she so youthful ; his face was so bronzed and scarred, hers so fair and pink, so fresh and smooth ; she was so gracious, and he so stern ; she was so pure, so innocent, he such a cyclopædia of sin. In her eye was stored all charity and compassion, in his lightnings ; when her glance fell upon you it seemed to bring benediction and the peace of God, but with his it was different generally.

They rode through the camp a dozen times a day, visiting every corner of it, observing, inspecting, perfecting ; and wherever they appeared, the enthusiasm broke forth. They rode side by side, he a great figure of brawn and muscle, she a little master-work of roundness and grace ; he a fortress of rusty iron, she a shining statuette of silver ; and when the reformed raiders and bandits caught sight of them they spoke out, with affection and welcome in their voices, and said —

There they come — Satan and the Page of Christ !

All the three days that we were in Blois, Joan worked earnestly and tirelessly to bring La Hire to God — to rescue him from the bondage of sin — to breathe into his stormy heart the 147serenity and peace of religion. She urged, she begged, she implored him to pray. He stood out, the three days of our stay, begging almost piteously to be let off — to be let off from just that one thing, that impossible thing ; he would do anything else — anything — command, and he would obey — he would go through the fire for her, if she said the word — but spare him this, only this, for he couldn’t pray, had never prayed, he was ignorant of how to frame a prayer, he had no words to put it in.

And yet — can any believe it ? — she carried even that point, she won that incredible victory. She made La Hire pray. It shows, I think, that nothing was impossible to Joan of Arc. Yes, he stood there before her and put up his mailed hands and made a prayer. And it was not borrowed, but was his very own ; he had none to help him frame it, he made it out of his own head — saying —

Fair Sir God, I pray you to do by La Hire as he would do by you if you were La Hire and he were God.1

Then he put on his helmet and marched out of Joan’s tent as satisfied with himself as any one might be who has arranged a perplexed and difficult business to the content and admiration of all the parties concerned in the matter.

If I had known that he had been praying, I could have understood why he was feeling so superior, but of course I could not know that.

I was coming to the tent at that moment, and saw him come out, and saw him march away in that large fashion, and indeed it was fine and beautiful to see. But when I got to the tent door I stopped and stepped back, grieved and shocked, for I heard Joan crying, as I mistakenly thought — crying as if she could not contain nor endure the anguish of her soul, crying as if she would die. But it was not so, she was laughing — laughing at La Hire’s prayer.

148It was not until six-and-thirty years afterwards that I found out, and then — oh, then I only cried when that picture of young care-free mirth rose before me out of the blur and mists of that long-vanished time ; for there had come a day between, when God’s good gift of laughter had gone out from me to come again no more in this life.

149Chapter 13

Checked by the Folly of the Wise

We marched out in great strength and splendor, and took the road toward Orleans. The initial part of Joan’s great dream was realizing itself at last. It was the first time that any of us youngsters had ever seen an army, and it was a most stately and imposing spectacle to us. It was indeed an inspiring sight, that interminable column, stretching away into the fading distances, and curving itself in and out of the crookedness of the road like a mighty serpent. Joan rode at the head of it with her personal staff ; then came a body of priests singing the Veni Creator, the banner of the Cross rising out of their midst ; after these the glinting forest of spears. The several divisions were commanded by the great Armagnac generals, La Hire, the Marshal de Boussac, the Sire de Retz, Florent d’Illiers, and Poton de Saintrailles.

Each in his degree was tough, and there were three degrees — tough, tougher, toughest — and La Hire was the last by a shade, but only a shade. They were just illustrious official brigands, the whole party ; and by long habits of lawlessness they had lost all acquaintanceship with obedience, if they had ever had any.

The King’s strict orders to them had been, Obey the General-in-Chief in everything ; attempt nothing without her knowledge, do nothing without her command.

But what was the good of saying that ? These independent birds knew no law. They seldom obeyed the King ; they never obeyed him when it didn’t suit them to do it. Would they obey the Maid ? In the first place they wouldn’t know how to obey her or anybody else, and in the second place it was of course not possible for them to take her military 150character seriously — that country girl of seventeen who had been trained for the complex and terrible business of war — how ? By tending sheep.

They had no idea of obeying her except in cases where their veteran military knowledge and experience showed them that the thing she required was sound and right when gauged by the regular military standards. Were they to blame for this attitude ? I should think not. Old war-worn captains are hard-headed, practical men. They do not easily believe in the ability of ignorant children to plan campaigns and command armies. No general that ever lived could have taken Joan seriously (militarily) before she raised the siege of Orleans and followed it with the great campaign of the Loire.

Did they consider Joan valueless ? Far from it. They valued her as the fruitful earth values the sun — they fully believed she could produce the crop, but that it was in their line of business, not hers, to take it off. They had a deep and superstitious reverence for her as being endowed with a mysterious supernatural something that was able to do a mighty thing which they were powerless to do — blow the breath of life and valor into the dead corpses of cowed armies and turn them into heroes.

To their minds they were everything with her, but nothing without her. She could inspire the soldiers and fit them for battle — but fight the battle herself ? Oh, nonsense — that was their function. They, the generals, would fight the battles, Joan would give the victory. That was their idea — an unconscious paraphrase of Joan’s reply to the Dominican.

So they began by playing a deception upon her. She had a clear idea of how she meant to proceed. It was her purpose to march boldly upon Orleans by the north bank of the Loire. She gave that order to her generals. They said to themselves, The idea is insane — it is blunder No. 1 ; it is what might have been expected of this child who is ignorant of war. They privately sent the word to the Bastard of Orleans. He also recognized the insanity of it — at least he thought he 151did — and privately advised the generals to get around the order in some way.

They did it by deceiving Joan. She trusted those people, she was not expecting this sort of treatment, and was not on the lookout for it. It was a lesson to her ; she saw to it that the game was not played a second time.

Why was Joan’s idea insane, from the generals’ point of view, but not from hers ? Because her plan was to raise the siege immediately, by fighting, while theirs was to besiege the besiegers and starve them out by closing their communications — a plan which would require months in the consummation.

The English had built a fence of strong fortresses called bastilles around Orleans — fortresses which closed all the gates of the city but one. To the French generals the idea of trying to fight their way past those fortresses and lead the army into Orleans was preposterous ; they believed that the result would be the army’s destruction. One may not doubt that their opinion was militarily sound — no, would have been, but for one circumstance which they overlooked. That was this : the English soldiers were in a demoralized condition of superstitious terror, they had become satisfied that the Maid was in league with Satan. By reason of this a good deal of their courage had oozed out and vanished. On the other hand the Maid’s soldiers were full of courage, enthusiasm and zeal.

Joan could have marched by the English forts. However, it was not to be. She had been cheated out of her first chance to strike a heavy blow for her country.

In camp that night she slept in her armor on the ground. It was a cold night, and she was nearly as stiff as her armor itself when we resumed the march in the morning, for iron is not good material for a blanket. However, her joy in being now so far on her way to the theatre of her mission was fire enough to warm her, and it soon did it.

Her enthusiasm and impatience rose higher and higher with every mile of progress ; but at last we reached Olivet, and down it went, and indignation took its place. For she saw the 152trick that had been played upon her — the river lay between us and Orleans.

She was for attacking one of the three bastilles that were on our side of the river and forcing access to the bridge which it guarded (a project which, if successful, would raise the siege instantly), but the long-ingrained fear of the English came upon her generals, and they implored her not to make the attempt. The soldiers wanted to attack, but had to suffer disappointment. So we moved on and came to a halt at a point opposite Chécy, six miles above Orleans.

Dunois, Bastard of Orleans, with a body of knights and citizens, came up from the city to welcome Joan. Joan was still burning with resentment over the trick that had been put upon her, and was not in the mood for soft speeches, even to revered military idols of her childhood. She said —

Are you the Bastard of Orleans ?

Yes, I am he, and am right glad of your coming.

And did you advise that I be brought by this side of the river instead of straight to Talbot and the English ?

Her high manner abashed him, and he was not able to answer with anything like a confident promptness, but with many hesitations and partial excuses he managed to get out the confession that for what he and the council had regarded as imperative military reasons they had so advised.

In God’s name, said Joan, my Lord’s counsel is safer and wiser than yours. You thought to deceive me, but you have deceived yourselves, for I bring you the best help that ever knight or city had ; for it is God’s help, not sent for love of me, but by God’s pleasure. At the prayer of St. Louis and St. Charlemagne He has had pity on Orleans, and will not suffer the enemy to have both the Duke of Orleans and his city. The provisions to save the starving people are here, the boats are below the city, the wind is contrary, they cannot come up hither. Now then tell me, in God’s name, you who are so wise, what that council of yours was thinking about, to invent this foolish difficulty.

Dunois and the rest fumbled around the matter a moment, 153then gave in and conceded that a blunder had been made.

Yes, a blunder has been made, said Joan, and except God take your proper work upon Himself and change the wind and correct your blunder for you, there is none else that can devise a remedy.

Some of those people began to perceive that with all her technical ignorance she had practical good sense, and that with all her native sweetness and charm she was not the right kind of a person to play with.

Presently God did take the blunder in hand, and by His grace the wind did change. So the fleet of boats came up and went away loaded with provisions and cattle, and conveyed that welcome succor to the hungry city, managing the matter successfully under protection of a sortie from the walls against the bastille of St. Loup. Then Joan began on the Bastard again —

You see here the army ?

Yes.

It is here on this side by advice of your council ?

Yes.

Now, in God’s name, can that wise council explain why it is better to have it here than it would be to have it in the bottom of the sea ?

Dunois made some wandering attempts to explain the inexplicable and excuse the inexcusable, but Joan cut him short and said —

Answer me this, good sir — has the army any value on this side of the river ?

The Bastard confessed that it hadn’t—that is, in view of the plan of campaign which she had devised and decreed.

And yet, knowing this, you had the hardihood to disobey my orders. Since the army’s place is on the other side, will you explain to me how it is to get there ?

The whole size of the needless muddle was apparent. Evasions were of no use ; therefore Dunois admitted that there was no way to correct the blunder but to send the army all 154the way back to Blois, and let it begin over again and come up on the other side this time, according to Joan’s original plan.

Any other girl, after winning such a triumph as this over a veteran soldier of old renown, might have exulted a little and been excusable for it, but Joan showed no disposition of this sort. She dropped a word or two of grief over the precious time that must be lost, then began at once to issue commands for the march back. She sorrowed to see her army go ; for she said its heart was great and its enthusiasm high, and that with it at her back she did not fear to face all the might of England.

All arrangements having been completed for the return of the main body of the army, she took the Bastard and La Hire and a thousand men and went down to Orleans, where all the town was in a fever of impatience to have sight of her face. It was eight in the evening when she and the troops rode in at the Burgundy gate, with the Paladin preceding her with her standard. She was riding a white horse and she carried in her hand the sacred sword of Fierbois. You should have seen Orleans then. What a picture it was ! Such black seas of people, such a starry firmament of torches, such roaring whirlwinds of welcome, such booming of bells and thundering of cannon ! It was as if the world was come to an end. Everywhere in the glare of the torches one saw rank upon rank of upturned white faces, the mouths wide open, shouting, and the unchecked tears running down ; Joan forged her slow way through the solid masses, her mailed form projecting above the pavement of heads like a silver statue. The people about her struggled along, gazing up at her through their tears with the rapt look of men and women who believe they are seeing one who is divine ; and always her feet were being kissed by grateful folk, and such as failed of that privilege touched her horse and then kissed their fingers.

Nothing that Joan did escaped notice ; everything she did was commented upon and applauded. You could hear the remarks going all the time.

155There — she’s smiling — see !

Now she’s taking her little plumed cap off to somebody — ah, it’s fine and graceful !

She’s patting that woman on the head with her gauntlet.

Oh, she was born on a horse — see her turn in her saddle, and kiss the hilt of her sword, to the ladies in the window that threw the flowers down.

Now there’s a poor woman lifting up a child — she’s kissed it — oh, she’s divine !

What a dainty little figure it is, and what a lovely face — and such color and animation !

Joan’s slender long banner streaming backward had an accident — the fringe caught fire from a torch. She leaned forward and crushed the flame in her hand.

She’s not afraid of fire nor anything ! they shouted, and delivered a storm of admiring applause that made everything quake.

She rode to the cathedral and gave thanks to God, and the people crammed the place and added their devotions to hers ; then she took up her march again and picked her slow way through the crowds and the wilderness of torches to the house of Jacques Boucher, treasurer of the Duke of Orleans, where she was to be the guest of his wife as long as she stayed in the city, and have his young daughter for comrade and room-mate. The delirium of the people went on the rest of the night, and with it the clamor of the joy-bells and the welcoming cannon.

Joan of Arc had stepped upon her stage at last, and was ready to begin.

156Chapter 14

What the English Answered

She was ready, but must sit down and wait until there was an army to work with.

Next morning, Saturday, April 30, 1429, she set about inquiring after the messenger who carried her proclamation to the English from Blois — the one which she had dictated at Poitiers. Here is a copy of it. It is a remarkable document, for several reasons : for its matter-of-fact directness, for its high spirit and forcible diction and for its naïve confidence in her ability to achieve the prodigious task which she had laid upon herself, or which had been laid upon her — which you please. All through it you seem to see the pomps of war and hear the rumbling of the drums. It is Joan’s warrior soul is revealed, and for the moment the soft little shepherdess has disappeared from your view. This untaught country damsel, unused to dictating anything at all to anybody, much less documents of state to kings and generals, poured out this procession of vigorous sentences as fluently as if this sort of work had been her trade from childhood :

Proclamation to the English

Jesus Maria

King of England, and you Duke of Bedford who call yourself Regent of France ; William de la Pole, Earl of Suffolk ; and you Thomas Lord Scales, who style yourselves lieutenants of the said Bedford — do right to the King of Heaven. Render to the Maid who is sent by God the keys of all the good towns you have taken and violated in France. She is sent hither by God to restore the blood royal. She is very ready to make peace if you will do her right by giving up France and paying for what you have held. And you archers, companions of war, noble and otherwise, who are before the good city of Orleans, begone into your own land in God’s name, or expect news from the Maid who will shortly go to 157see you to your very great hurt. King of England, if you do not so, I am chief of war, and wherever I shall find your people in France I will drive them out, willing or not willing ; and if they do not obey I will slay them all, but if they obey, I will have them to mercy. I am come hither by God, the King of Heaven, body for body, to put you out of France, in spite of those who would work treason and mischief against the kingdom. Think not you shall ever hold the kingdom from the King of Heaven, the Son of the Blessed Mary ; King Charles shall hold it, for God wills it so, and has revealed it to him by the Maid. If you believe not the news sent by God through the Maid, wherever we shall meet you we will strike boldly and make such a noise as has not been in France these thousand years. Be sure that God can send more strength to the Maid than you can bring to any assault against her and her good men-at-arms ; and then we shall see who has the better right, the King of Heaven, or you. Duke of Bedford, the Maid prays you not to bring about your own destruction. If you do her right, you may yet go in her company where the French shall do the finest deed that has ever been done in Christendom, and if you do not, you shall be reminded shortly of your great wrongs.

In that closing sentence she invites them to go on crusade with her to rescue the Holy Sepulchre.

No answer had been returned to this proclamation, and the messenger himself had not come back. So now she sent her two heralds with a new letter warning the English to raise the siege and requiring them to restore that missing messenger. The heralds came back without him. All they brought was notice from the English to Joan that they would presently catch her and burn her if she did not clear out now while she had a chance, and go back to her proper trade of minding cows.

She held her peace, only saying it was a pity that the English would persist in inviting present disaster and eventual destruction when she was doing all she could to get them out of the country with their lives still in their bodies.

Presently she thought of an arrangement that might be acceptable, and said to the heralds, Go back and say to Lord Talbot this, from me : Come out of your bastilles with your host, and I will come with mine ; if I beat you, go in peace out of France ; if you beat me, burn me, according to your desire.

158I did not hear this, but Dunois did, and spoke of it. The challenge was refused.

Sunday morning her Voices or some instinct gave her a warning, and she sent Dunois to Blois to take command of the army and hurry it to Orleans. It was a wise move, for he found Regnault de Chartres and some more of the King’s pet rascals there trying their best to disperse the army, and crippling all the efforts of Joan’s generals to head it for Orleans. They were a fine lot, those miscreants. They turned their attention to Dunois, now, but he had balked Joan once, with unpleasant results to himself, and was not minded to meddle in that way again. He soon had the army moving.

159Chapter 15

My Exquisite Poem Goes to Smash

We of the personal staff were in fairy-land, now, during the few days that we waited for the return of the army. We went into society. To our two knights this was not a novelty, but to us young villagers it was a new and wonderful life. Any position of any sort near the person of the Maid of Vaucouleurs conferred high distinction upon the holder and caused his society to be courted ; and so the D’Arc brothers, and Noël, and the Paladin, humble peasants at home, were gentlemen here, personages of weight and influence. It was fine to see how soon their country diffidences and awkwardnesses melted away under this pleasant sun of deference and disappeared, and how lightly and easily they took to their new atmosphere. The Paladin was as happy as it was possible for any one in this earth to be. His tongue went all the time, and daily he got new delight out of hearing himself talk. He began to enlarge his ancestry and spread it out all around, and ennoble it right and left, and it was not long until it consisted almost entirely of Dukes. He worked up his old battles and tricked them out with fresh splendors ; also with new terrors, for he added artillery now. We had seen cannon for the first time at Blois — a few pieces — here, there was plenty of it, and now and then we had the impressive spectacle of a huge English bastille hidden from sight in a mountain of smoke from its own guns, with lances of red flame darting through it ; and this grand picture, along with the quaking thunders pounding away in the heart of it, inflamed the Paladin’s imagination and enabled him to dress out those ambuscade-skirmishes of ours with a sublimity which made it impossible for any to recognize them at all except people who had not been there.

160You may suspect that there was a special inspiration for these great efforts of the Paladin’s, and there was. It was the daughter of the house, Catherine Boucher, who was eighteen, and gentle and lovely in her ways, and very beautiful. I think she might have been as beautiful as Joan herself, if she had had Joan’s eyes. But that could never be. There was never but that one pair, there will never be another. Joan’s eyes were deep and rich and wonderful beyond anything merely earthly. They spoke all the languages — they had no need of words. They produced all effects — and just by a glance, just a single glance : a glance that could convict a liar of his lie and make him confess it ; that could bring down a proud man’s pride and make him humble ; that could put courage into a coward and strike dead the courage of the bravest ; that could appease resentments and real hatreds ; that could make the doubter believe and the hopeless hope again ; that could speak peace to storms of passion and be obeyed ; that could purify the impure mind ; that could persuade — ah, there it is — persuasion ! that is the word ; what or who is it that it couldn’t persuade ? The maniac of Domremy — the fairy-banishing priest — the reverend tribunal of Toul — the doubting and superstitious Laxart — the obstinate veteran of Vaucouleurs — the characterless heir of France — the sages and scholars of the Parliament and University of Poitiers — the darling of Satan, La Hire — the masterless Bastard of Orleans, accustomed to acknowledge no way as right and rational but his own — these were the trophies of that great gift that made her the wonder and mystery that she was.

We mingled companionably with the great folk who flocked to the big house to make Joan’s acquaintance, and they made much of us and we lived in the clouds, so to speak. But what we preferred even to this happiness was the quieter occasions, when the formal guests were gone and the family and a few dozen of its familiar friends were gathered together for a social good time. It was then that we did our best, we five youngsters with such fascinations as we had, and the chief 161object of them was Catherine. None of us had ever been in love before, and now we had the misfortune to all fall in love with the same person at the same time — which was the first moment we saw her. She was a merry heart, and full of life, and I still remember tenderly those few evenings that I was permitted to have my share of her dear society and of comradeship with that little company of charming people.

The Paladin made us all jealous the first night, for when he got fairly started on those battles of his he had everything to himself, and there was no use in anybody else’s trying to get any attention. Those people had been living in the midst of real war for seven months ; and to hear this windy giant lay out his imaginary campaigns and fairly swim in blood and spatter it all around, entertained them to the verge of the grave. Catherine was like to die, for pure enjoyment. She didn’t laugh loud — we, of course wished she would — but kept in the shelter of a fan, and shook until there was danger that she would unhitch her ribs from her spine. Then when the Paladin had got done with a battle and we began to feel thankful and hope for a change, she would speak up in a way that was so sweet and persuasive that it rankled in me, and ask him about some detail or other in the early part of his battle which she said had greatly interested her, and would he be so good as to describe that part again, and with a little more particularity ? — which of course precipitated the whole battle on us again, with a hundred lies added that had been overlooked before.

I do not know how to make you realize the pain I suffered. I had never been jealous before, and it seemed intolerable that this creature should have this good fortune which he was so ill entitled to, and I have to sit and see myself neglected when I was so longing for the least little attention out of the thousand that this beloved girl was lavishing upon him. I was near her, and tried two or three times to get started on some of the things that I had done in those battles — and I felt ashamed of myself, too, for stooping to such a business — but she cared for nothing but his battles, and could not be 162got to listen ; and presently when one of my attempts caused her to lose some precious rag or other of his mendacities and she asked him to repeat, thus bringing on a new engagement of course and increasing the havoc and carnage tenfold, I felt so humiliated by this pitiful miscarriage of mine that I gave up and tried no more.

The others were as outraged by the Paladin’s selfish conduct as I was — and by his grand luck, too, of course — perhaps, indeed, that was the main hurt. We talked our trouble over together, which was but natural, for rivals become brothers when a common affliction assails them and a common enemy bears off the victory.

Each of us could do things that would please and get notice if it were not for this person, who occupied all the time and gave others no chance. I had made a poem, taking a whole night to it — a poem in which I most happily and delicately celebrated that sweet girl’s charms, without mentioning her name, but any one could see who was meant ; for the bare title — The Rose of Orleans — would reveal that, as it seemed to me. It pictured this pure and dainty white rose as growing up out of the rude soil of war and looking abroad out of its tender eyes upon the horrid machinery of death, and then — note this conceit — it blushes for the sinful nature of man, and turns red in a single night. Becomes a red rose, you see — a rose that was white before. The idea was my own, and quite new. Then it sent its sweet perfume out over the embattled city, and when the beleaguering forces smelt it they laid down their arms and wept. This was also my own idea, and new. That closed that part of the poem ; then I put her into the similitude of the firmament — not the whole of it, but only part. That is to say, she was the moon, and all the constellations were following her about, their hearts in flames for love of her, but she would not halt, she would not listen, for ‘twas thought she loved another. ‘Twas thought she loved a poor unworthy suppliant who was upon the earth, facing danger, death, and possible mutilation in the bloody field, waging relentless war against a heartless foe to save 163her from an all too early grave, and her city from destruction. And when the sad pursuing constellations came to know and realize the bitter sorrow that was come upon them — note this idea — their hearts broke and their tears gushed forth, filling the vault of heaven with a fiery splendor, for those tears were falling stars. It was a rash idea, but beautiful ; beautiful and pathetic ; wonderfully pathetic, the way I had it, with the rhyme and all to help. At the end of each verse there was a two-line refrain pitying the poor earthly lover separated so far, and perhaps forever, from her he loved so well, and growing always paler and weaker and thinner in his agony as he neared the cruel grave — the most touching thing — even the boys themselves could hardly keep back their tears, the way Noël said those lines. There were eight four-line stanzas in the first end of the poem — the end about the rose, the horticultural end, as you may say, if that is not too large a name for such a little poem — and eight in the astronomical end — sixteen stanzas altogether, and I could have made it a hundred and fifty if I had wanted to, I was so inspired and so all swelled up with beautiful thoughts and fancies ; but that would have been too many to sing or recite before a company, that way, whereas sixteen was just right, and could be done over again, if desired.

The boys were amazed that I could make such a poem as that out of my own head, and so was I, of course, it being as much a surprise to me as it could be to anybody, for I did not know that it was in me. If any had asked me a single day before if it was in me, I should have told them frankly no, it was not.

That is the way with us ; we may go on half of our life not knowing such a thing is in us, when in reality it was there all the time, and all we needed was something to turn up that would call for it. Indeed, it was always so with our family. My grandfather had a cancer, and they never knew what was the matter with him till he died, and he didn’t himself. It is wonderful how gifts and diseases can be concealed that way. All that was necessary in my case was for this lovely and inspiring 164girl to cross my path, and out came the poem, and no more trouble to me to word it and rhyme it and perfect it than it is to stone a dog. No, I should have said it was not in me, but it was.

The boys couldn’t say enough about it, they were so charmed and astonished. The thing that pleased them the most was the way it would do the Paladin’s business for him. They forgot everything in their anxiety to get him shelved and silenced. Noël Rainguesson was clear beside himself with admiration of the poem, and wished he could do such a thing, but it was out of his line, and he couldn’t, of course. He had it by heart in half an hour, and there was never anything so pathetic and beautiful as the way he recited it. For that was just his gift — that and mimicry. He could recite anything better than anybody in the world, and he could take off La Hire to the very life — or anybody else for that matter. Now I never could recite worth a farthing ; and when I tried with this poem the boys wouldn’t let me finish ; they would have nobody but Noël. So then, as I wanted the poem to make the best possible impression on Catherine and the company, I told Noël he might do the reciting. Never was anybody so delighted. He could hardly believe that I was in earnest, but I was. I said that to have them know that I was the author of it would be enough for me. The boys were full of exultation, and Noël said if he could just get one chance at those people it would be all he would ask ; he would make them realize that there was something higher and finer than war-lies to be had here.

But how to get the opportunity — that was the difficulty. We invented several schemes that promised fairly, and at last we hit upon one that was sure. That was, to let the Paladin get a good start in a manufactured battle, and then send in a false call for him, and as soon as he was out of the room, have Noël take his place and finish the battle himself in the Paladin’s own style, imitated to a shade. That would get great applause, and win the house’s favor and put it in the right mood to hear the poem. The two triumphs together would 165finish the Standard-Bearer — modify him, anyway, to a certainty, and give the rest of us a chance for the future.

So the next night I kept out of the way until the Paladin had got his start and was sweeping down upon the enemy like a whirlwind at the head of his corps, then I stepped within the door in my official uniform and announced that a messenger from General La Hire’s quarters desired speech with the Standard-Bearer. He left the room, and Noël took his place and said that the interruption was to be deplored, but that fortunately he was personally acquainted with the details of the battle himself, and if permitted would be glad to state them to the company. Then without waiting for the permission he turned himself into the Paladin — a dwarfed Paladin, of course — with manner, tones, gestures, attitudes, everything exact, and went right on with the battle, and it would be impossible to imagine a more perfectly and minutely ridiculous imitation than he furnished to those shrieking people. They went into spasms, convulsions, frenzies of laughter, and the tears flowed down their cheeks in rivulets. The more they laughed, the more inspired Noël grew with his theme and the greater the marvels he worked, till really the laughter was not properly laughing, any more, but screaming. Blessedest feature of all, Catherine Boucher was dying with ecstasies, and presently there was little left of her but gasps and suffocations. Victory ? It was a perfect Agincourt.

The Paladin was gone only a couple of minutes ; he found out at once that a trick had been played on him, so he came back. When he approached the door he heard Noël ranting in there and recognized the state of the case ; so he remained near the door but out of sight, and heard the performance through to the end. The applause Noël got when he finished was wonderful ; and they kept it up and kept it up, clapping their hands like mad, and shouting to him to do it over again.

But Noël was clever. He knew the very best background for a poem of deep and refined sentiment and pathetic melancholy was one where great and satisfying merriment has prepared the spirit for the powerful contrast.

166So he paused until all was quiet, then his face grew grave and assumed an impressive aspect, and at once all faces sobered in sympathy and took on a look of wondering and expectant interest. Now he began in a low but distinct voice the opening verses of The Rose. As he breathed the rhythmic measures forth, and one gracious line after another fell upon those enchanted ears in that deep hush, one could catch, on every hand, half-audible ejaculations of How lovely ! — how beautiful ! — how exquisite !

By this time the Paladin, who had gone away for a moment with the opening of the poem, was back again and had stepped within the door. He stood there, now, resting his great frame against the wall and gazing toward the reciter like one entranced. When Noël got to the second part, and that heart-breaking refrain began to melt and move all listeners, the Paladin began to wipe away tears with the back of first one hand and then the other. The next time the refrain was repeated he got to snuffling, and sort of half sobbing, and went to wiping his eyes with the sleeves of his doublet. He was so conspicuous that he embarrassed Noël a little, and also had an ill effect upon the audience. With the next repetition he broke quite down and began to cry like a calf, which ruined all the effect and started many in the audience to laughing. Then he went on from bad to worse, until I never saw such a spectacle ; for he fetched out a towel from under his doublet and began to swab his eyes with it and let go the most infernal bellowings mixed up with sobbings and groanings and retchings and barkings and coughings and snortings and screamings and howlings — and he twisted himself about on his heels and squirmed this way and that, still pouring out that brutal clamor and flourishing his towel in the air and swabbing again and wringing it out. Hear ? You couldn’t hear yourself think. Noël was wholly drowned out and silenced, and those people were laughing the very lungs out of themselves. It was the most degrading sight that ever was. Now I heard the clankety-clank that plate-armor makes when the man that is in it is running, and then alongside my head 167there burst out the most inhuman explosion of laughter that ever rent the drum of a person’s ear, and I looked, and it was La Hire ; and he stood there with his gauntlets on his hips and his head tilted back and his jaws spread to that degree to let out his hurricanes and his thunders that it amounted to indecent exposure, for you could see everything that was in him. Only one thing more and worse could happen, and it happened : at the other door I saw the flurry and bustle and bowings and scrapings of officials and flunkeys which means that some great personage is coming — then Joan of Arc stepped in, and the house rose ! Yes, and tried to shut its indecorous mouth and make itself grave and proper ; but when it saw the Maid herself go to laughing, it thanked God for this mercy and the earthquake followed.

Such things make life a bitterness, and I do not wish to dwell upon them. The effect of the poem was spoiled.

168Chapter 16

The Finding of the Dwarf

This episode disagreed with me and I was not able to leave my bed the next day. The others were in the same condition. But for this, one or another of us might have had the good luck that fell to the Paladin’s share that day ; but it is observable that God in His compassion sends the good luck to such as are ill equipped with gifts, as compensation for their defect, but requires such as are more fortunately endowed to get by labor and talent what those others get by chance. It was Noël who said this, and it seemed to me to be well and justly thought.

The Paladin, going about the town all the day in order to be followed and admired and overhear the people say in an awed voice, Ssh ! — look it is the Standard-Bearer of Joan of Arc ! had speech with all sorts and conditions of folk, and he learned from some boatmen that there was a stir of some kind going on in the bastilles on the other side of the river ; and in the evening, seeking further, he found a deserter from the fortress called the Augustins, who said that the English were going to send men over to strengthen the garrisons on our side during the darkness of the night, and were exulting greatly, for they meant to spring upon Dunois and the army when it was passing the bastilles and destroy it ; a thing quite easy to do, since the Witch would not be there, and without her presence the army would do like the French armies of these many years past — drop their weapons and run when they saw an English face.

It was ten at night when the Paladin brought this news and asked leave to speak to Joan, and I was up and on duty then. It was a bitter stroke to me to see what a chance I 169had lost. Joan made searching inquiries, and satisfied herself that the word was true, then she made this annoying remark :

You have done well, and you have my thanks. It may be that you have prevented a disaster. Your name and service shall receive official mention.

Then he bowed low, and when he rose he was eleven feet high. As he swelled out past me he covertly pulled down the corner of his eye with his finger and muttered part of that defiled refrain, Oh tears, ah tears, oh sad sweet tears ! — name in General Orders — personal mention to the King, you see !

I wished Joan could have seen his conduct, but she was busy thinking what she would do. Then she had me fetch the knight Jean de Metz, and in a minute he was off for La Hire’s quarters with orders for him and the Lord de Villars and Florent d’Illiers to report to her at five o’clock next morning with five hundred picked men well mounted. The histories say half-past four, but it is not true, I heard the order given.

We were on our way at five to the minute, and encountered the head of the arriving column between six and seven, a couple of leagues from the city. Dunois was pleased, for the army had begun to get restive and show uneasiness now that it was getting so near to the dreaded bastilles. But that all disappeared now, as the word ran down the line, with a huzzah that swept along the length of it like a wave, that the Maid was come. Dunois asked her to halt and let the column pass in review, so that the men could be sure that the report of her presence was not a ruse to revive their courage. So she took position at the side of the road with her staff, and the battalions swung by with a martial stride, huzzahing. Joan was armed, except her head. She was wearing the cunning little velvet cap with the mass of curved white ostrich plumes tumbling over its edges which the city of Orleans had given her the night she arrived — the one that is in the picture that hangs in the Hôtel de Ville at Rouen. She was looking about fifteen. The sight of soldiers always set her blood to leaping, and lit the fires in her eyes and brought the warm rich color to her cheeks ; it was then that you saw that she 170was too beautiful to be of the earth, or at any rate that there was a subtle something somewhere about her beauty that differed it from the human types of your experience and exalted it above them.

In the train of wains laden with supplies a man lay on top of the goods. He was stretched out on his back, and his hands were tied together with ropes, and also his ankles. Joan signed to the officer in charge of that division of the train to come to her, and he rode up and saluted.

What is he that is bound, there ? she asked.

A prisoner, General.

What is his offence ?

He is a deserter.

What is to be done with him ?

He will be hanged, but it was not convenient on the march, and there was no hurry.

Tell me about him.

He is a good soldier, but he asked leave to go and see his wife who was dying, he said, but it could not be granted ; so he went without leave. Meanwhile the march began, and he only overtook us yesterday evening.

Overtook you ? Did he come of his own will ?

Yes it was of his own will.

He a deserter ! Name of God ! Bring him to me.

The officer rode forward and loosed the man’s feet and brought him back with his hands still tied. What a figure he was — a good seven feet high, and built for business ! He had a strong face ; he had an unkempt shock of black hair which showed up in a striking way when the officer removed his morion for him ; for weapon he had a big axe in his broad leathern belt. Standing by Joan’s horse, he made Joan look littler than ever, for his head was about on a level with her own. His face was profoundly melancholy ; all interest in life seemed to be dead in the man. Joan said —

Hold up your hands.

The man’s head was down. He lifted it when he heard that soft friendly voice, and there was a wistful something in 171his face which made one think that there had been music in it for him and that he would like to hear it again. When he raised his hands Joan laid her sword to his bonds, but the officer said with apprehension —

Ah, madam — my General !

What is it ? she said.

He is under sentence !

Yes, I know. I am responsible for him, and she cut the bonds. They had lacerated his wrists, and they were bleeding. Ah, pitiful ! she said ; blood — I do not like it’ ; and she shrank from the sight. But only for a moment. Give me something, somebody, to bandage his wrists with.

The officer said —

Ah, my General ! it is not fitting. Let me bring another to do it.

Another ? De par le Dieu ! You would seek far to find one that can do it better than I, for I learned it long ago among both men and beasts. And I can tie better than those that did this ; if I had tied him the ropes had not cut his flesh.

The man looked on, silent, while he was being bandaged, stealing a furtive glance at Joan’s face occasionally, such as an animal might that is receiving a kindness from an unexpected quarter and is gropingly trying to reconcile the act with its source. All the staff had forgotten the huzzahing army drifting by in its rolling clouds of dust, to crane their necks and watch the bandaging as if it was the most interesting and absorbing novelty that ever was. I have often seen people do like that — get entirely lost in the simplest trifle, when it is something that is out of their line. Now there in Poitiers, once, I saw two bishops and a dozen of those grave and famous scholars grouped together watching a man paint a sign on a shop ; they didn’t breathe, they were as good as dead ; and when it began to sprinkle they didn’t know it at first ; then they noticed it, and each man hove a deep sigh, and glanced up with a surprised look as wondering to see the others there, and how he came to be there himself — but that 172is the way with people, as I have said. There is no way of accounting for people. You have to take them as they are.

There, said Joan at last, pleased with her success ; another could have done it no better — not as well, I think. Tell me — what is it you did ? Tell me all.

The giant said :

It was this way, my angel. My mother died, then my three little children, one after the other, all in two years. It was the famine ; others fared so — it was God’s will. I saw them die, I had that grace ; and I buried them. Then when my poor wife’s fate was come, I begged for leave to go to her — she who was so dear to me — she who was all I had ; I begged on my knees. But they would not let me. Could I let her die, friendless and alone ? Could I let her die believing I would not come ? Would she let me die and she not come — with her feet free to do it if she would, and no cost upon it but only her life ? Ah, she would come — she would come through the fire ! So I went. I saw her. She died in my arms. I buried her. Then the army was gone. I had trouble to overtake it, but my legs are long and there are many hours in a day ; I overtook it last night.

Joan said, musingly, and as if she were thinking aloud —

It sounds true. If true, it were no great harm to suspend the law this one time — any would say that. It may not be true, but if it is true — She turned suddenly to the man and said, I would see your eyes — look up ! The eyes of the two met, and Joan said to the officer, The man is pardoned. Give you good-day ; you may go. Then she said to the man, Did you know it was death to come back to the army ?

Yes, he said, I knew it.

Then why did you do it ?

The man said, quite simply —

Because it was death. She was all I had. There was nothing left to love.

Ah, yes, there was — France ! The children of France have always their mother — they cannot be left with nothing to love. You shall live — and you shall serve France

173I will serve you !

— you shall fight for France —

I will fight for you !

You shall be France’s soldier —

I will be your soldier !

— you shall give all your heart to France —

I will give all my heart to you — and all my soul, if I have one — and all my strength, which is great — for I was dead and am alive again, I had nothing to live for, but now I have ! You are France for me ! You are my France, and I will have no other.

Joan smiled, and was touched and pleased at the man’s grave enthusiasm — solemn enthusiasm, one may call it, for the manner of it was deeper than mere gravity — and she said —

Well, it shall be as you will. What are you called ?

The man answered with unsmiling simplicity —

They call me the Dwarf, but I think it is more in jest than otherwise.

It made Joan laugh, and she said —

It has something of that look, truly ! What is the office of that vast axe ?

The soldier replied with the same gravity — which must have been born to him, it sat upon him so naturally —

It is to persuade persons to respect France.

Joan laughed again, and said —

Have you given many lessons ?

Ah, indeed yes — many.

The pupils behaved to suit you, afterwards ?

Yes ; it made them quiet — quite pleasant and quiet.

I should think it would happen so. Would you like to be my man-at-arms ? — orderly, sentinel, or something like that ?

If I may !

Then you shall. You shall have proper armor, and shall go on teaching your art. Take one of those led horses there, and follow the staff when we move.

174That is how we came by the Dwarf ; and a good fellow he was. Joan picked him out on sight, but it wasn’t a mistake ; no one could be faithfuller than he was, and he was a devil and the son of a devil when he turned himself loose with his axe. He was so big that he made the Paladin look like an ordinary man. He liked to like people, therefore people liked him. He liked us boys from the start ; and he liked the knights, and liked pretty much everybody he came across ; but he thought more of a paring of Joan’s finger-nail than he did of all the rest of the world put together.

Yes, that is where we got him — stretched on the wain, going to his death, poor chap, and nobody to say a good word for him. He was a good find. Why, the knights treated him almost like an equal — it is the honest truth ; that is the sort of a man he was. They called him the Bastille, sometimes, and sometimes they called him Hellfire, which was on account of his warm and sumptuous style in battle, and you know they wouldn’t have given him pet names if they hadn’t had a good deal of affection for him.

To the Dwarf, Joan was France, the spirit of France made flesh — he never got away from that idea that he had started with ; and God knows it was the true one. That was a humble eye to see so great a truth where some others failed. To me that seems quite remarkable. And yet, after all, it was, in a way, just what nations do. When they love a great and noble thing, they embody it — they want it so that they can see it with their eyes ; like Liberty, for instance. They are not content with the cloudy abstract idea ; they make a beautiful statue of it, and then their beloved idea is substantial and they can look at it and worship it. And so it is as I say ; to the Dwarf, Joan was our country embodied, our country made visible flesh cast in a gracious form. When she stood before others, they saw Joan of Arc, but he saw France.

Sometimes he would speak of her by that name. It shows you how the idea was imbedded in his mind, and how real it was to him. The world has called our kings by it, but I 175know of none of them who has had so good a right as she to that sublime title.

When the march past was finished, Joan returned to the front and rode at the head of the column. When we began to file past those grim bastilles and could glimpse the men within, standing to their guns and ready to empty death into our ranks, such a faintness came over me and such a sickness that all things seemed to turn dim and swim before my eyes ; and the other boys looked droopy too, I thought — including the Paladin, although I do not know this for certain, because he was ahead of me, and I had to keep my eyes out toward the bastille side, because I could wince better when I saw what to wince at.

But Joan was at home — in Paradise, I might say. She sat up straight, and I could see that she was feeling different from me. The awfulest thing was the silence ; there wasn’t a sound but the screaking of the saddles, the measured tramplings, and the sneezing of the horses, afflicted by the smothering dust-clouds which they kicked up. I wanted to sneeze myself, but it seemed to me that I would rather go unsneezed, or suffer even a bitterer torture, if there is one, than attract attention to myself.

I was not of a rank to make suggestions, or I would have suggested that if we went faster we should get by sooner. It seemed to me that it was an ill-judged time to be taking a walk. Just as we were drifting in that suffocating stillness past a great cannon that stood just within a raised portcullis, with nothing between me and it, but the moat, a most uncommon jackass in there split the world with his bray, and I fell out of the saddle. Sir Bertrand grabbed me as I went, which was well, for if I had gone to the ground in my armor I could not have gotten up again by myself. The English warders on the battlements laughed a coarse laugh, forgetting that every one must begin, and that there had been a time when they themselves would have fared no better when shot by a jackass.

The English never uttered a challenge nor fired a shot. It 176was said afterwards that when their men saw the Maid riding at the front and saw how lovely she was, their eager courage cooled down in many cases and vanished in the rest, they feeling certain that that creature was not mortal, but the very child of Satan ; and so the officers were prudent and did not try to make them fight. It was said also that some of the officers were affected by the same superstitious fears. Well, in any case, they never offered to molest us, and we poked by all the grisly fortresses in peace. During the march I caught up on my devotions which were in arrears ; so it was not all loss and no profit for me, after all.

It was on this march that the histories say Dunois told Joan that the English were expecting reinforcements under the command of Sir John Falstaff, and that she turned upon him and said —

Bastard, Bastard, in God’s name I warn you to let me know of his coming as soon as you hear of it ; for if he passes without my knowledge you shall lose your head !

It may be so ; I don’t deny it, but I didn’t hear it. If she really said it, I think she only meant she would take off his official head — degrade him from his command. It was not like her to threaten a comrade’s life. She did have her doubts of her generals, and was entitled to them, for she was all for storm and assault, and they were for holding still and tiring the English out. Since they did not believe in her way and were experienced old soldiers, it would be natural for them to prefer their own and try to get around carrying hers out.

But I did hear something that the histories didn’t mention and don’t know about. I heard Joan say that now that the garrisons on the other side had been weakened to strengthen those on our side, the most effective point of operations had shifted to the south shore ; so she meant to go over there and storm the forts which held the bridge end, and that would open up communication with our own dominions and raise the siege. The generals began to balk, privately, right away, but they only baffled and delayed her, and that for only four days.

177All Orleans met the army at the gate and huzzahed it through the bannered streets to its various quarters, but nobody had to rock it to sleep ; it slumped down dog-tired, for Dunois had rushed it without mercy, and for the next twenty-four hours it would be quiet, all but the snoring.

178Chapter 17

Sweet Fruit of Bitter Truth

When we got home, breakfast for us minor fry was waiting in our mess-room and the family honored us by coming in to eat it with us. The nice old treasurer, and in fact all three were flatteringly eager to hear about our adventures. Nobody asked the Paladin to begin, but he did begin, because now that his specially ordained and peculiar military rank set him above everybody on the personal staff but old D’Aulon, who didn’t eat with us, he didn’t care a farthing for the knights’ nobility nor mine, but took precedence in the talk whenever it suited him, which was all the time, because he was born that way. He said :

God be thanked, we found the army in admirable condition. I think I have never seen a finer body of animals.

Animals ? said Miss Catherine.

I will explain to you what he means, said Noël. He —

I will trouble you not to trouble yourself to explain anything for me, said the Paladin, loftily. I have reason to think —

That is his way, said Noël ; always when he thinks he has reason to think, he thinks he does think, but this is an error. He didn’t see the army. I noticed him, and he didn’t see it. He was troubled by his old complaint.

What is his old complaint ? Catherine asked.

Prudence, I said, seeing my chance to help.

But it was not a fortunate remark, for the Paladin said :

It probably isn’t your turn to criticize people’s prudence — you who fall out of the saddle when a donkey brays.

They all laughed, and I was ashamed of myself for my hasty smartness. I said :

179It isn’t quite fair for you to say I fell out on account of the donkey’s braying. It was emotion, just ordinary emotion.

Very well, if you want to call it that, I am not objecting. What would you call it, Sir Bertrand ?

Well, it — well, whatever it was, it was excusable, I think. All of you have learned how to behave in hot hand-to-hand engagements, and you don’t need to be ashamed of your record in that matter, but to walk along in front of death, with one’s hands idle, and no noise, no music, and nothing going on, is a very trying situation. If I were you, De Conte, I would name the emotion ; it’s nothing to be ashamed of.

It was as straight and sensible a speech as ever I heard, and I was grateful for the opening it gave me ; so I came out and said :

It was fear — and thank you for the honest idea, too.

It was the cleanest and best way out, said the old treasurer ; you’ve done well, my lad.

That made me comfortable, and when Miss Catherine said, It’s what I think, too, I was grateful to myself for getting into that scrape.

Sir Jean de Metz said —

We were all in a body together when the donkey brayed, and it was dismally still at the time. I don’t see how any young campaigner could escape some little touch of that emotion.

He looked about him with a pleasant expression of inquiry on his good face, and as each pair of eyes in turn met his the head they were in nodded a confession. Even the Paladin delivered his nod. That surprised everybody, and saved the Standard-Bearer’s credit. It was clever of him ; nobody believed he could tell the truth that way without practice, or would tell that particular sort of a truth either with or without practice. I suppose he judged it would favorably impress the family. Then the old treasurer said —

Passing the forts in that trying way required the same sort of nerve that a person must have when ghosts are about 180him in the dark, I should think. What does the Standard-Bearer think ?

Well, I don’t quite know about that, sir. I’ve often thought I would like to see a ghost if I —

Would you ? exclaimed the young lady. We’ve got one ! Would you try that one ? Will you ?

She was so eager and pretty that the Paladin said straight out that he would ; and then as none of the rest had bravery enough to expose the fear that was in him, one volunteered after the other with a prompt mouth and a sick heart till all were shipped for the voyage, then the girl clapped her hands in glee, and the parents were gratified too, saying that the ghosts of their house had been a dread and a misery to them and their forebears for generations, and nobody had ever been found yet who was willing to confront them and find out what their trouble was, so that the family could heal it and content the poor spectres and beguile them to tranquillity and peace.

181Chapter 18

Joan’s First Battle-Field

About noon I was chatting with Madame Boucher ; nothing was going on, all was quiet, when Catherine Boucher suddenly entered in great excitement, and said —

Fly, sir, fly ! The Maid was dozing in her chair in my room, when she sprang up and cried out, French blood is flowing ! — my arms, give me my arms ! Her giant was on guard at the door, and he brought D’Aulon, who began to arm her, and I and the giant have been warning the staff. Fly ! — and stay by her ; and if there really is a battle, keep her out of it — don’t let her risk herself — there is no need — if the men know she is near and looking on, it is all that is necessary. Keep her out of the fight — don’t fail of this !

I started on a run, saying, sarcastically — for I was always fond of sarcasm, and it was said that I had a most neat gift that way —

Oh, yes, nothing easier than that — I’ll attend to it !

At the furthest end of the house I met Joan, fully armed, hurrying toward the door, and she said —

Ah, French blood is being spilt, and you did not tell me.

Indeed I did not know it, I said ; there are no sounds of war ; everything is quiet, your Excellency.

You will hear war-sounds enough in a moment, she said, and was gone.

It was true. Before one could count five there broke upon the stillness the swelling rush and tramp of an approaching multitude of men and horses, with hoarse cries of command ; and then out of the distance came the muffled deep boom ! — boom-boom ! — boom ! of cannon, and straightway that rushing multitude was roaring by the house like a hurricane.

182Our knights and all our staff came flying, armed, but with no horses ready, and we burst out after Joan in a body, the Paladin in the lead with the banner. The surging crowd was made up half of citizens and half of soldiers, and had no recognized leader. When Joan was seen a huzzah went up, and she shouted —

A horse — a horse !

A dozen saddles were at her disposal in a moment. She mounted, a hundred people shouting —

Way, there — way for the Maid of Orleans ! The first time that that immortal name was ever uttered — and I, praise God, was there to hear it ! The mass divided itself like the waters of the Red Sea, and down this lane Joan went skimming like a bird, crying Forward, French hearts — follow me ! and we came winging in her wake on the rest of the borrowed horses, the holy standard streaming above us, and the lane closing together in our rear.

This was a different thing from the ghastly march past the dismal bastilles. No, we felt fine, now, and all a-whirl with enthusiasm. The explanation of this sudden uprising was this. The city and the little garrison, so long hopeless and afraid, had gone wild over Joan’s coming, and could no longer restrain their desire to get at the enemy ; so, without orders from anybody, a few hundred soldiers and citizens had plunged out at the Burgundy gate on a sudden impulse and made a charge on one of Lord Talbot’s most formidable fortresses — St. Loup — and were getting the worst of it. The news of this had swept through the city and started this new crowd that we were with.

As we poured out at the gate we met a force bringing in the wounded from the front. The sight moved Joan, and she said —

Ah, French blood ; it makes my hair rise to see it !

We were soon on the field, soon in the midst of the turmoil. Joan was seeing her first real battle, and so were we.

It was a battle in the open field, for the garrison of St. Loup had sallied confidently out to meet the attack, being 183used to victories when witches were not around. The sally had been reinforced by troops from the Paris bastille, and when we approached the French were getting whipped and were falling back. But when Joan came charging through the disorder with her banner displayed, crying Forward, men — follow me ! there was a change ; the French turned about and surged forward like a solid wave of the sea, and swept the English before them, hacking and slashing, and being hacked and slashed, in a way that was terrible to see.

In the field the Dwarf had no assignment ; that is to say, he was not under orders to occupy any particular place, therefore he chose his place for himself, and went ahead of Joan and made a road for her. It was horrible to see the iron helmets fly into fragments under his dreadful axe. He called it cracking nuts, and it looked like that. He made a good road, and paved it well with flesh and iron. Joan and the rest of us followed it so briskly that we outspeeded our forces and had the English behind us as well as before. The knights commanded us to face outwards around Joan, which we did, and then there was work done that was fine to see. One was obliged to respect the Paladin, now. Being right under Joan’s exalting and transforming eye, he forgot his native prudence, he forgot his diffidence in the presence of danger, he forgot what fear was, and he never laid about him in his imaginary battles in a more tremendous way than he did in this real one ; and wherever he struck there was an enemy the less.

We were in that close place only a few minutes ; then our forces to the rear broke through with a great shout and joined us, and then the English fought a retreating fight, but in a fine and gallant way, and we drove them to their fortress foot by foot, they facing us all the time, and their reserves on the walls raining showers of arrows, cross-bow bolts, and stone cannon-balls upon us.

The bulk of the enemy got safely within the works and left us outside with piles of French and English dead and wounded for company — a sickening sight, an awful sight to us youngsters, for our little ambush fights in February had been in the 184night, and the blood and the mutilations and the dead faces were mercifully dim, whereas we saw these things now for the first time in all their naked ghastliness.

Now arrived Dunois from the city, and plunged through the battle on his foam-flecked horse and galloped up to Joan, saluting, and uttering handsome compliments as he came. He waved his hand toward the distant walls of the city, where a multitude of flags were flaunting gayly in the wind, and said the populace were up there observing her fortunate performance and rejoicing over it, and added that she and the forces would have a great reception now.

Now ? Hardly now, Bastard. Not yet !

Why not yet ? Is there more to be done ?

More, Bastard ? We have but begun ! We will take this fortress.

Ah, you can’t be serious ! We can’t take this place ; let me urge you not to make the attempt ; it is too desperate. Let me order the forces back.

Joan’s heart was overflowing with the joys and enthusiasms of war, and it made her impatient to hear such talk. She cried out —

Bastard, Bastard, will ye play always with these English ? Now verily I tell you we will not budge until this place is ours. We will carry it by storm. Sound the charge !

Ah, my General —

Waste no more time, man — let the bugles sound the assault ! and we saw that strange deep light in her eye which we named the battle-light, and learned to know so well in later fields.

The martial notes pealed out, the troops answered with a yell, and down they came against that formidable work, whose outlines were lost in its own cannon smoke, and whose sides were spouting flame and thunder.

We suffered repulse after repulse, but Joan was here and there and everywhere encouraging the men, and she kept them to their work. During three hours the tide ebbed and flowed, flowed and ebbed ; but at last La Hire, who was now 185come, made a final and resistless charge, and the bastille St. Loup was ours. We gutted it, taking all its stores and artillery, and then destroyed it.

When all our host was shouting itself hoarse with rejoicings, and there went up a cry for the General, for they wanted to praise her and glorify her and do her homage for her victory, we had trouble to find her ; and when we did find her, she was off by herself, sitting among a ruck of corpses, with her face in her hands, crying — for she was a young girl, you know, and her hero-heart was a young girl’s heart too, with the pity and the tenderness that are natural to it. She was thinking of the mothers of those dead friends and enemies.

Among the prisoners were a number of priests, and Joan took these under her protection and saved their lives. It was urged that they were most probably combatants in disguise, but she said —

As to that, how can any tell ? They wear the livery of God, and if even one of these wears it rightfully, surely it were better that all the guilty should escape than that we have upon our hands the blood of that innocent man. I will lodge them where I lodge, and feed them, and send them away in safety.

We marched back to the city with our crop of cannon and prisoners on view and our banners displayed. Here was the first substantial bit of war-work the imprisoned people had seen in the seven months that the siege had endured, the first chance they had had to rejoice over a French exploit. You may guess that they made good use of it. They and the bells went mad. Joan was their darling now, and the press of people struggling and shouldering each other to get a glimpse of her was so great that we could hardly push our way through the streets at all. Her new name had gone all about, and was on everybody’s lips. The Holy Maid of Vaucouleurs was a forgotten title ; the city had claimed her for its own, and she was the Maid of Orleans now. It is a happiness to me to remember that I heard that name the first 186time it was ever uttered. Between that first utterance and the last time it will be uttered on this earth — ah, think how many mouldering ages will lie in that gap !

The Boucher family welcomed her back as if she had been a child of the house, and saved from death against all hope or probability. They chided her for going into the battle and exposing herself to danger during all those hours. They could not realize that she had meant to carry her warriorship so far, and asked her if it had really been her purpose to go right into the turmoil of the fight, or hadn’t she got swept into it by accident and the rush of the troops ? They begged her to be more careful another time. it was good advice, maybe, but it fell upon pretty unfruitful soil.

187Chapter 19

We Burst In Upon Ghosts

Being worn out with the long fight, we all slept the rest of the afternoon away and two or three hours into the night. Then we got up refreshed, and had supper. As for me, I could have been willing to let the matter of the ghost drop ; and the others were of a like mind no doubt, for they talked diligently of the battle and said nothing of that other thing. And indeed it was fine and stirring to hear the Paladin rehearse his deeds and see him pile his dead, fifteen here, eighteen there, and thirty-five yonder ; but this only postponed the trouble, it could not do more. He could not go on forever ; when he had carried the bastille by assault and eaten up the garrison there was nothing for it but to stop, unless Catherine Boucher would give him a new start and have it all done over again — as we hoped she would, this time — but she was otherwise minded. As soon as there was a good opening and a fair chance, she brought up her unwelcome subject, and we faced it the best we could.

We followed her and her parents to the haunted room at eleven o’clock, with candles, and also with torches to place in the sockets on the walls. It was a big house, with very thick walls, and this room was in a remote part of it which had been left unoccupied for nobody knew how many years, because of its evil repute.

This was a large room, like a salon, and had a big table in it of enduring oak and well preserved ; but the chairs were worm-eaten and the tapestry on the walls was rotten and discolored by age. The dusty cobwebs under the ceiling had the look of not having had any business for a century.

Catherine said —

188Tradition says that these ghosts have never been seen — they have merely been heard. It is plain that this room was once larger than it is now, and that the wall at this end was built in some bygone time to make and fence off a narrow room there. There is no communication anywhere with that narrow room, and if it exists — and of that there is no reasonable doubt — it has no light and no air, but is an absolute dungeon. Wait where you are, and take note of what happens.

That was all. Then she and her parents left us. When their footfalls had died out in the distance down the empty stone corridors an uncanny silence and solemnity ensued, which was dismaller to me than the mute march past the bastilles. We sat looking vacantly at each other, and it was easy to see that no one there was comfortable. The longer we sat so, the more deadly still that stillness got to be ; and when the wind began to moan around the house presently, it made me sick and miserable, and I wished I had been brave enough to be a coward this time, for indeed it is no proper shame to be afraid of ghosts, seeing how helpless the living are in their hands. And then these ghosts were invisible, which made the matter the worse, as it seemed to me. They might be in the room with us at that moment — we could not know. I felt airy touches on my shoulders and my hair, and I shrank from them and cringed, and was not ashamed to show this fear, for I saw the others doing the like, and knew that they were feeling those faint contacts too. As this went on — oh, eternities it seemed, the time dragged so drearily — all those faces became as wax, and I seemed sitting with a congress of the dead.

At last, faint and far and weird and slow, came a boom ! — boom ! — boom ! — a distant bell tolling midnight. When the last stroke died, that depressing stillness followed again, and as before I was staring at those waxen faces and feeling those airy touches on my hair and my shoulders once more.

One minute — two minutes — three minutes of this, then we heard a long deep groan, and everybody sprang up and stood, 189with his legs quaking. It came from that little dungeon. There was a pause, then we heard muffled sobbings, mixed with pitiful ejaculations. Then there was a second voice, low and not distinct, and the one seemed trying to comfort the other ; and so the two voices went on, with moanings, and soft sobbings, and, ah, the tones were so full of compassion and sorrow and despair ! Indeed, it made one’s heart sore to hear it.

But those sounds were so real and so human and so moving that the idea of ghosts passed straight out of our minds, and Sir Jean de Metz spoke out and said —

Come ! we will smash that wall and set those poor captives free. Here, with your axe.

The Dwarf jumped forward, swinging his great axe with both hands, and others sprang for the torches and brought them. Bang ! — whang ! — slam ! — smash went the ancient bricks, and there was a hole an ox could pass through. We plunged within and held up the torches.

Nothing there but vacancy ! On the floor lay a rusty sword and a rotten fan.

Now you know all that I know. Take the pathetic relics, and weave about them the romance of the dungeon’s long-vanished inmates as best you can.

190Chapter 20

Joan Makes Cowards Brave Victors

The next day Joan wanted to go against the enemy again, but it was the feast of the Ascension, and the holy council of bandit generals were too pious to be willing to profane it with bloodshed. But privately they profaned it with plottings, a sort of industry just in their line. They decided to do the only thing proper to do now in the new circumstances of the case — feign an attack on the most important bastille on the Orleans side, and then, if the English weakened the far more important fortresses on the other side of the river to come to its help, cross in force and capture those works. This would give them the bridge and free communication with the Sologne, which was French territory. They decided to keep this latter part of the programme secret from Joan.

Joan intruded and took them by surprise. She asked them what they were about and what they had resolved upon. They said they had resolved to attack the most important of the English bastilles on the Orleans side next morning — and there the spokesman stopped. Joan said —

Well, go on.

There is nothing more. That is all.

Am I to believe this ? That is to say, am I to believe that you have lost your wits ? She turned to Dunois, and said, Bastard, you have sense, answer me this : if this attack is made and the bastille taken, how much better off would we be than we are now ?

The Bastard hesitated, and then began some rambling talk not quite germane to the question. Joan interrupted him and said —

That will do, good Bastard, you have answered. Since the Bastard is not able to mention any advantage to be gained 191by taking that bastille and stopping there, it is not likely that any of you could better the matter. You waste much time here in inventing plans that lead to nothing, and making delays that are a damage. Are you concealing something from me ? Bastard, this council has a general plan, I take it ; without going into details, what is it ?

It is the same it was in the beginning, seven months ago — to get provisions in for a long siege, and then sit down and tire the English out.

In the name of God ! As if seven months was not enough, you want to provide for a year of it. Now ye shall drop these pusillanimous dreams — the English shall go in three days !

Several exclaimed —

Ah, General, General, be prudent !

Be prudent and starve ? Do ye call that war ? I tell you this, if you do not already know it : The new circumstances have changed the face of matters. The true point of attack has shifted ; it is on the other side of the river now. One must take the fortifications that command the bridge. The English know that if we are not fools and cowards we will try to do that. They are grateful for your piety in wasting this day. They will re-enforce the bridge forts from this side to-night, knowing what ought to happen to-morrow. You have but lost a day and made our task harder, for we will cross and take the bridge forts. Bastard, tell me the truth — does not this council know that there is no other course for us than the one I am speaking of ?

Dunois conceded that the council did know it to be the most desirable, but considered it impracticable ; and he excused the council as well as he could by saying that inasmuch as nothing was really and rationally to be hoped for but a long continuance of the siege and wearying out of the English, they were naturally a little afraid of Joan’s impetuous notions. He said —

You see, we are sure that the waiting game is the best, whereas you would carry everything by storm.

192That I would ! — and moreover that I will ! You have my orders — here and now. We will move upon the forts of the south bank to-morrow at dawn.

And carry them by storm ?

Yes, carry them by storm !

La Hire came clanking in, and heard the last remark. He cried out —

By my baton, that is the music I love to hear ! Yes, that is the right tune and the beautiful words, my General — we will carry them by storm !

He saluted in his large way and came up and shook Joan by the hand.

Some member of the council was heard to say —

It follows, then, that we must begin with the bastille St. John, and that will give the English time to —

Joan turned and said —

Give yourselves no uneasiness about the bastille St. John. The English will know enough to retire from it and fall back on the bridge bastilles when they see us coming. She added, with a touch of sarcasm, Even a war-council would know enough to do that, itself.

Then she took her leave. La Hire made this general remark to the council —

She is a child, and that is all ye seem to see. Keep to that superstition if you must, but you perceive that this child understands this complex game of war as well as any of you ; and if you want my opinion without the trouble of asking for it, here you have it without ruffles or embroidery — by God, I think she can teach the best of you how to play it !

Joan had spoken truly ; the sagacious English saw that the policy of the French had undergone a revolution ; that the policy of paltering and dawdling was ended ; that in place of taking blows, blows were to be struck, now ; therefore they made ready for the new state of things by transferring heavy re-enforcements to the bastilles of the south bank from those of the north.

193The city learned the great news that once more in French history, after all these humiliating years, France was going to take the offensive ; that France, so used to retreating, was going to advance ; that France, so long accustomed to skulking, was going to face about and strike. The joy of the people passed all bounds. The city walls were black with them to see the army march out in the morning in that strange new position — its front, not its tail, toward an English camp. You shall imagine for yourselves what the excitement was like and how it expressed itself when Joan rode out at the head of the host with her banner floating above her.

We crossed the river in strong force, and a tedious long job it was, for the boats were small and not numerous. Our landing on the island of St. Aignan was not disputed. We threw a bridge of a few boats across the narrow channel thence to the south shore and took up our march in good order and unmolested ; for although there was a fortress there — St. John — the English vacated and destroyed it and fell back on the bridge forts below as soon as our first boats were seen to leave the Orleans shore ; which was what Joan had said would happen, when she was disputing with the council.

We moved down the shore and Joan planted her standard before the bastille of the Augustins, the first of the formidable works that protected the end of the bridge. The trumpets sounded the assault, and two charges followed in handsome style ; but we were too weak, as yet, for our main body was still lagging behind. Before we could gather for a third assault the garrison of St. Privé were seen coming up to re-enforce the big bastille. They came on a run, and the Augustins sallied out, and both forces came against us with a rush, and sent our small army flying in a panic, and followed us, slashing and slaying, and shouting jeers and insults at us.

Joan was doing her best to rally the men, but their wits were gone, their hearts were dominated for the moment by the old-time dread of the English. Joan’s temper flamed up, and she halted and commanded the trumpets to sound the advance. Then she wheeled about and cried out —

194If there is but a dozen of you that are not cowards, it is enough — follow me !

Away she went, and after her a few dozen who had heard her words and been inspired by them. The pursuing force was astonished to see her sweeping down upon them with this handful of men, and it was their turn now to experience a grisly fright — surely this is a witch, this is a child of Satan ! That was their thought — and without stopping to analyze the matter they turned and fled in a panic.

Our flying squadrons heard the bugle and turned to look ; and when they saw the Maid’s banner speeding in the other direction and the enemy scrambling ahead of it in disorder, their courage returned and they came scouring after us.

La Hire heard it and hurried his force forward and caught up with us just as we were planting our banner again before the ramparts of the Augustins. We were strong enough now. We had a long and tough piece of work before us, but we carried it through before night, Joan keeping us hard at it, and she and La Hire saying we were able to take that big bastille, and must. The English fought like — well, they fought like the English ; when that is said, there is no more to say. We made assault after assault, through the smoke and flame and the deafening cannon-blasts, and at last as the sun was sinking we carried the place with a rush, and planted our standard on its walls.

The Augustins was ours. The Tourelles must be ours, too, if we would free the bridge and raise the siege. We had achieved one great undertaking, Joan was determined to accomplish the other. We must lie on our arms where we were, hold fast to what we had got, and be ready for business in the morning. So Joan was not minded to let the men be demoralized by pillage and riot and carousings ; she had the Augustins burned, with all its stores in it, excepting the artillery and ammunition.

Everybody was tired out with this long day’s hard work, and of course this was the case with Joan ; still, she wanted to stay with the army before the Tourelles, to be ready for 195the assault in the morning. The chiefs argued with her, and at last persuaded her to go home and prepare for the great work by taking proper rest, and also by having a leech look to a wound which she had received in her foot. So we crossed with them and went home.

Just as usual, we found the town in a fury of joy, all the bells clanging, everybody shouting, and several people drunk. We never went out or came in without furnishing good and sufficient reasons for one of these pleasant tempests, and so the tempest was always on hand. There had been a blank absence of reasons for this sort of upheavals for the past seven months, therefore the people took to the upheavals with all the more relish on that account.

196Chapter 21

She Gently Reproves Her Dear Friend

To get away from the usual crowd of visitors and have a rest, Joan went with Catherine straight to the apartment which the two occupied together, and there they took their supper and there the wound was dressed. But then, instead of going to bed, Joan, weary as she was, sent the Dwarf for me, in spite of Catherine’s protests and persuasions. She said she had something on her mind, and must send a courier to Domremy with a letter for our old Père Fronte to read to her mother. I came, and she began to dictate. After some loving words and greetings to her mother and the family, came this :

But the thing which moves me to write now, is to say that when you presently hear that I am wounded, you shall give yourself no concern about it, and refuse faith to any that shall try to make you believe it is serious.

She was going on, when Catherine spoke up and said —

Ah, but it will fright her so to read these words. Strike them out, Joan, strike them out, and wait only one day — two days at most — then write and say your foot was wounded but is well again — for it will surely be well then, or very near it. Don’t distress her, Joan ; do as I say.

A laugh like the laugh of the old days, the impulsive free laugh of an untroubled spirit, a laugh like a chime of bells, was Joan’s answer ; then she said —

My foot ? Why should I write about such a scratch as that ? I was not thinking about it, dear heart.

Child, have you another wound and a worse, and have not spoken of it ? What have you been dreaming about, that you —

197She had jumped up, full of vague fears, to have the leech called back at once, but Joan laid her hand upon her arm and made her sit down again, saying —

There, now, be tranquil, there is no other wound, as yet ; I am writing about one which I shall get when we storm that bastille to-morrow.

Catherine had the look of one who is trying to understand a puzzling proposition but cannot quite do it. She said, in a distraught fashion —

A wound which you are going to get ? But — but why grieve your mother when it — when it may not happen ?

May not ? Why, it will.

The puzzle was a puzzle still. Catherine said in that same abstracted way as before —

Will. It is a strong word. I cannot seem to — my mind is not able to take hold of this. Oh, Joan, such a presentiment is a dreadful thing — it takes one’s peace and courage all away. Cast it from you ! — drive it out ! It will make your whole night miserable, and to no good ; for we will hope —

But it isn’t a presentiment — it is a fact. And it will not make me miserable. It is uncertainties that do that, but this is not an uncertainty.

Joan, do you know it is going to happen ?

Yes, I know it. My Voices told me.

Ah, said Catherine, resignedly, if they told you — But are you sure it was they ? — quite sure ?

Yes, quite. It will happen — there is no doubt.

It is dreadful ! Since when have you known it ?

Since — I think it is several weeks. Joan turned to me. Louis, you will remember. How long is it ?

Your Excellency spoke of it first to the King, in Chinon, I answered ; that was as much as seven weeks ago. You spoke of it again the 20th of April, and also the 22d, two weeks ago, as I see by my record here.

These marvels disturbed Catherine profoundly, but I had long ceased to be surprised at them. One can get used to anything in this world. Catherine said —

198And it is to happen to-morrow ? — always to-morrow ? Is it the same date always ? There has been no mistake, and no confusion ?

No, Joan said, the 7th of May is the date — there is no other.

Then you shall not go a step out of this house till that awful day is gone by ! You will not dream of it, Joan will you ? — promise that you will stay with us.

But Joan was not persuaded. She said —

It would not help the matter, dear good friend. The wound is to come, and come to-morrow. If I do not seek it, it will seek me. My duty calls me to that place to-morrow, I should have to go if my death were waiting for me there ; shall I stay away for only a wound ? Oh no, we must try to do better than that.

Then you are determined to go ?

Of a certainty, yes. There is only one thing that I can do for France — hearten her soldiers for battle and victory. She thought a moment, then added, However, one should not be unreasonable, and I would do much to please you, who are so good to me. Do you love France ?

I wondered what she might be contriving now, but I saw no clue. Catherine said, reproachfully —

Ah, what have I done to deserve this question ?

Then you do love France. I had not doubted it, dear. Do not be hurt, but answer me — have you ever told a lie ?

In my life I have not wilfully told a lie — fibs, but no lies.

That is sufficient. You love France and do not tell lies ; therefore I will trust you. I will go or I will stay, as you shall decide.

Oh, I thank you from my heart, Joan ! How good and dear it is of you to do this for me ! Oh, you shall stay, and not go !

In her delight she flung her arms about Joan’s neck and squandered endearments upon her the least of which would have made me rich, but as it was, they only made me realize 199how poor I was — how miserably poor in what I would most have prized in this world. Joan said —

Then you will send word to my headquarters that I am not going ?

Oh, gladly. Leave that to me.

It is good of you. And how will you word it ? — for it must have proper official form. Shall I word it for you ?

Oh, do — for you know about these solemn procedures and stately proprieties, and I have had no experience.

Then word it like this : The chief of staff is commanded to make known to the King’s forces in garrison and in the field, that the General-in-Chief of the Armies of France will not face the English on the morrow, she being afraid she may get hurt. Signed, Joan of Arc, by the hand of Catherine Boucher, who loves France.

There was a pause — a silence of the sort that tortures one into stealing a glance to see how the situation looks, and I did that. There was a loving smile on Joan’s face, but the color was mounting in crimson waves into Catherine’s, and her lips were quivering and the tears gathering ; then she said —

Oh, I am so ashamed of myself ! — and you are so noble and brave and wise, and I am so paltry — so paltry and such a fool ! and she broke down and began to cry, and I did so want to take her in my arms and comfort her, but Joan did it, and of course I said nothing. Joan did it well and most sweetly and tenderly, but I could have done it as well, though I knew it would be foolish and out of place to suggest such a thing, and might make an awkwardness too, and be embarrassing to us all, so I did not offer, and I hope I did right and for the best, though I could not know, and was many times tortured with doubts afterwards as having perhaps let a chance pass which might have changed all my life and made it happier and more beautiful than, alas, it turned out to be. For this reason I grieve yet, when I think of that scene, and do not like to call it up out of the deeps of my memory because of the pangs it brings.

200Well, well, a good and wholesome thing is a little harmless fun in this world ; it tones a body up and keeps him human and prevents him from souring. To set that little trap for Catherine was as good and effective a way as any to show her what a grotesque thing she was asking of Joan. It was a funny idea, now, wasn’t it, when you look at it all around ? Even Catherine dried up her tears and laughed when she thought of the English getting hold of the French Commander-in-Chief’s reason for staying out of a battle. She granted that they could have a good time over a thing like that.

We got to work on the letter again, and of course did not have to strike out the passage about the wound. Joan was in fine spirits ; but when she got to sending messages to this, that and the other old playmate and friend, it brought our village and the Fairy Tree and the flowery plain and the browsing sheep and all the peaceful beauty of our old humble home-place back, and the familiar names began to tremble on her lips ; and when she got to Haumette and Little Mengette it was no use, her voice broke and she couldn’t go on. She waited a moment, then said —

Give them my love — my warm love — my deep love — oh, out of my heart of hearts ! I shall never see our home any more.

Now came Pasquerel, Joan’s confessor, and introduced a gallant knight, the Sire de Rais, who had been sent with a message. He said he was instructed to say that the council had decided that enough had been done for the present ; that it would be safest and best to be content with what God had already done ; that the city was now well victualled and able to stand a long siege ; that the wise course must necessarily be to withdraw the troops from the other side of the river and resume the defensive — therefore they had decided accordingly.

The incurable cowards ! exclaimed Joan. So it was to get me away from my men that they pretended so much solicitude about my fatigue. Take this message back, not to the council — I have no speeches for those disguised ladies’ 201maids — but to the Bastard and La Hire, who are men. Tell them the army is to remain where it is, and I hold them responsible if this command miscarries. And say the offensive will be resumed in the morning. You may go, good sir.

Then she said to her priest —

Rise early, and be by me all the day. There will be much work on my hands, and I shall be hurt between my neck and my shoulder.

202Chapter 22

The Fate of France Decided

We were up at dawn, and after mass we started. In the hall we met the master of the house, who was grieved, good man, to see Joan going breakfastless to such a day’s work, and begged her to wait and eat, but she couldn’t afford the time — that is to say, she couldn’t afford the patience, she being in such a blaze of anxiety to get at that last remaining bastille which stood between her and the completion of the first great step in the rescue and redemption of France. Boucher put in another plea :

But think — we poor beleaguered citizens who have hardly known the flavor of fish for these many months, have spoil of that sort again, and we owe it to you. There’s a noble shad for breakfast ; wait — be persuaded.

Joan said —

Oh, there’s going to be fish in plenty ; when this day’s work is done the whole river-front will be yours to do as you please with.

Ah, your Excellency will do well, that I know ; but we don’t require quite that much, even of you ; you shall have a month for it in place of a day. Now be beguiled — wait and eat. There’s a saying that he that would cross a river twice in the same day in a boat, will do well to eat fish for luck, lest he have an accident.

That doesn’t fit my case, for to-day I cross but once in a boat.

Oh, don’t say that. Aren’t you coming back to us ?

Yes, but not in a boat.

How, then ?

By the bridge.

203Listen to that — by the bridge ! Now stop this jesting, dear General, and do as I would have you. It’s a noble fish.

Be good, then, and save me some for supper ; and I will bring one of those Englishmen with me and he shall have his share.

Ah, well, have your way if you must. But he that fasts must attempt but little and stop early. When shall you be back ?

When I’ve raised the siege of Orleans. Forward !

We were off. The streets were full of citizens and of groups and squads of soldiers, but the spectacle was melancholy. There was not a smile anywhere, but only universal gloom. It was as if some vast calamity had smitten all hope and cheer dead. We were not used to this, and were astonished. But when they saw the Maid, there was an immediate stir, and the eager question flew from mouth to mouth —

Where is she going ? Whither is she bound ?

Joan heard it, and called out —

Whither would ye suppose ? I am going to take the Tourelles.

It would not be possible for any to describe how those few words turned that mourning into joy — into exaltation — into frenzy ; and how a storm of huzzahs burst out and swept down the streets in every direction and woke those corpse-like multitudes to vivid life and action and turmoil in a moment. The soldiers broke from the crowd and came flocking to our standard, and many of the citizens ran and got pikes and halberds and joined us. As we moved on, our numbers increased steadily, and the hurrahing continued — yes, we moved through a solid cloud of noise, as you may say, and all the windows on both sides contributed to it, for they were filled with excited people.

You see, the council had closed the Burgundy gate and placed a strong force there, under that stout soldier Raoul de Gaucourt, Bailly of Orleans, with orders to prevent Joan from getting out and resuming the attack on the Tourelles, and this shameful thing had plunged the city into sorrow and despair. 204But that feeling was gone now. They believed the Maid was a match for the council, and they were right.

When we reached the gate, Joan told Gaucourt to open it and let her pass.

He said it would be impossible to do this, for his orders were from the council and were strict. Joan said —

There is no authority above mine but the King’s. If you have an order from the King, produce it.

I cannot claim to have an order from him, General.

Then make way, or take the consequences !

He began to argue the case, for he was like the rest of the tribe, always ready to fight with words, not acts ; but in the midst of his gabble Joan interrupted with the terse order —

Charge !

We came with a rush, and brief work we made of that small job. It was good to see the Bailly’s surprise. He was not used to this unsentimental promptness. He said afterwards that he was cut off in the midst of what he was saying — in the midst of an argument by which he could have proved that he could not let Joan pass — an argument which Joan could not have answered.

Still, it appears she did answer it, said the person he was talking to.

We swung through the gate in great style, with a vast accession of noise, the most of which was laughter, and soon our van was over the river and moving down against the Tourelles.

First we must take a supporting work called a boulevard, and which was otherwise nameless, before we could assault the great bastille. Its rear communicated with the bastille by a drawbridge, under which ran a swift and deep strip of the Loire. The boulevard was strong, and Dunois doubted our ability to take it, but Joan had no such doubt. She pounded it with artillery all the forenoon, then about noon she ordered an assault and led it herself. We poured into the fosse through the smoke and a tempest of missiles, and Joan, 205shouting encouragements to her men, started to climb a scaling-ladder, when that misfortune happened which we knew was to happen — the iron bolt from an arbalest struck between her neck and her shoulder, and tore its way down through her armor. When she felt the sharp pain and saw her blood gushing over her breast, she was frightened, poor girl, and as she sank to the ground she began to cry, bitterly.

The English sent up a glad shout and came surging down in strong force to take her, and then for a few minutes the might of both adversaries was concentrated upon that spot. Over her and about her, English and French fought with desperation — for she stood for France, indeed she was France to both sides — whichever won her won France, and could keep it forever. Right there in that small spot, and in ten minutes by the clock, the fate of France, for all time, was to be decided, and was decided.

If the English had captured Joan then, Charles VII would have flown the country, the Treaty of Troyes would have held good, and France, already English property, would have become, without further dispute, an English province, to so remain until Judgment Day. A nationality and a kingdom were at stake there, and no more time to decide it in than it takes to hard-boil an egg. It was the most momentous ten minutes that the clock has ever ticked in France, or ever will. Whenever you read in histories about hours or days or weeks in which the fate of one or another nation hung in the balance, do not you fail to remember, now your French hearts to beat the quicker for the remembrance, the ten minutes that France, called otherwise Joan of Arc, lay bleeding in the fosse that day, with two nations struggling over her for her possession.

And you will not forget the Dwarf. For he stood over her, and did the work of any six of the others. He swung his axe with both hands ; whenever it came down, he said those two words, For France ! and a splintered helmet flew like egg-shells, and the skull that carried it had learned its manners and would offend the French no more. He piled 206a bulwark of iron-clad dead in front of him and fought from behind it ; and at last when the victory was ours we closed about him, shielding him, and he ran up a ladder with Joan as easily as another man would carry a child, and bore her out of the battle, a great crowd following and anxious, for she was drenched with blood to her feet, half of it her own and the other half English, for bodies had fallen across her as she lay and had poured their red life-streams over her. One couldn’t see the white armor now, with that awful dressing over it.

The iron bolt was still in the wound — some say it projected out behind the shoulder. It may be — I did not wish to see, and did not try to. It was pulled out, and the pain made Joan cry again, poor thing. Some say she pulled it out herself because others refused, saying they could not bear to hurt her. As to this I do not know ; I only know it was pulled out, and that the wound was treated with oil and properly dressed.

Joan lay on the grass, weak and suffering, hour after hour, but still insisting that the fight go on. Which it did, but not to much purpose, for it was only under her eye that men were heroes and not afraid. They were like the Paladin ; I think he was afraid of his shadow — I mean in the afternoon, when it was very big and long ; but when he was under Joan’s eye and the inspiration of her great spirit, what was he afraid of ? Nothing in this world — and that is just the truth.

Toward night Dunois gave it up. Joan heard the bugles.

What ! she cried. Sounding the retreat !

Her wound was forgotten in a moment. She countermanded the order, and sent another, to the officer in command of a battery, to stand ready to fire five shots in quick succession. This was a signal to a force on the Orleans side of the river under La Hire, who was not, as some of the histories say, with us. It was to be given whenever Joan should feel sure the boulevard was about to fall into her hands — then that force must make a counter-attack on the Tourelles by way of the bridge.

207Joan mounted her horse, now, with her staff about her, and when our people saw us coming they raised a great shout, and were at once eager for another assault on the boulevard. Joan rode straight to the fosse where she had received her wound, and standing there in the rain of bolts and arrows, she ordered the Paladin to let her long standard blow free, and to note when its fringes should touch the fortress. Presently he said —

It touches.

Now, then, said Joan to the waiting battalions, the place is yours — enter in ! Bugles, sound the assault ! Now, then — all together — go !

And go it was. You never saw anything like it. We swarmed up the ladders and over the battlements like a wave — and the place was our property. Why, one might live a thousand years and never see so gorgeous a thing as that again. There, hand to hand, we fought like wild beasts, for there was no give-up to those English — there was no way to convince one of those people but to kill him, and even then he doubted. At least so it was thought in those days, and maintained by many.

We were busy and never heard the five cannon-shots fired, but they were fired a moment after Joan had ordered the assault ; and so, while we were hammering and being hammered in the smaller fortress, the reserve on the Orleans side poured across the bridge and attacked the Tourelles from that side. A fire-boat was brought down and moored under the drawbridge which connected the Tourelles with our boulevard ; wherefore, when at last we drove our English ahead of us and they tried to cross that drawbridge and join their friends in the Tourelles, the burning timbers gave way under them and emptied them in a mass into the river in their heavy armor — and a pitiful sight it was to see brave men die such a death as that.

Ah, God pity them ! said Joan, and wept to see that sorrowful spectacle. She said those gentle words and wept those compassionate tears, although one of those perishing 208men had grossly insulted her with a coarse name three days before, when she had sent him a message asking him to surrender. That was their leader, Sir William Glasdale, a most valorous knight. He was clothed all in steel ; so he plunged under the water like a lance, and of course came up no more.

We soon patched a sort of bridge together and threw ourselves against the last stronghold of the English power that barred Orleans from friends and supplies. Before the sun was quite down, Joan’s forever memorable day’s work was finished, her banner floated from the fortress of the Tourelles, her promise was fulfilled, she had raised the siege of Orleans !

The seven months’ beleaguerment was ended, the thing which the first generals of France had called impossible was accomplished ; in spite of all that the King’s ministers and war-councils could do to prevent it, this little country maid of seventeen had carried her immortal task through, and had done it in four days !

Good news travels fast, sometimes, as well as bad. By the time we were ready to start homewards by the bridge the whole city of Orleans was one red flame of bonfires, and the heavens blushed with satisfaction to see it ; and the booming and bellowing of cannon and the banging of bells surpassed by great odds anything that even Orleans had attempted before in the way of noise.

When we arrived — well, there is no describing that. Why, those acres of people that we ploughed through shed tears enough to raise the river ; there was not a face in the glare of those fires that hadn’t tears streaming down it ; and if Joan’s feet had not been protected by iron they would have kissed them off of her. Welcome ! welcome to the Maid of Orleans ! That was the cry ; I heard it a hundred thousand times. Welcome to our Maid ! some of them worded it.

No other girl in all history has ever reached such a summit of glory as Joan of Arc reached that day. And do you think it turned her head, and that she sat up to enjoy that delicious 209music of homage and applause ? No ; another girl would have done that, but not this one. That was the greatest heart and the simplest that ever beat. She went straight to bed and to sleep, like any tired child ; and when the people found she was wounded and would rest, they shut off all passage and traffic in that region and stood guard themselves the whole night through, to see that her slumbers were not disturbed. They said, She has given us peace, she shall have peace herself.

All knew that that region would be empty of English next day, and all said that neither the present citizens nor their posterity would ever cease to hold that day sacred to the memory of Joan of Arc. That word has been true for more than sixty years, it will continue so always. Orleans will never forget the 8th of May, nor ever fail to celebrate it. It is Joan of Arc’s day — and holy.2

210Chapter 23

Joan Inspires the Tawdry King

In the earliest dawn of the morning, Talbot and his English forces evacuated their bastilles and marched away, not stopping to burn, destroy, or carry off anything, but leaving their fortresses just as they were, provisioned, armed, and equipped for a long siege. It was difficult for the people to believe that this great thing had really happened ; that they were actually free once more, and might go and come through any gate they pleased, with none to molest or forbid ; that the terrible Talbot, that scourge of the French, that man whose mere name had been able to annul the effectiveness of French armies, was gone, vanquished, retreating — driven away by a girl.

The city emptied itself. Out of every gate the crowds poured. They swarmed about the English bastilles like an invasion of ants, but noisier than those creatures, and carried off the artillery and stores, then turned all those dozen fortresses into monster bonfires, imitation volcanoes whose lofty columns of thick smoke seemed supporting the arch of the sky.

The delight of the children took another form. To some of the younger ones seven months was a sort of lifetime. They had forgotten what grass was like, and the velvety green meadows seemed paradise to their surprised and happy eyes after the long habit of seeing nothing but dirty lanes and streets. It was a wonder to them — those spacious reaches of open country to run and dance and tumble and frolic in, after their dull and joyless captivity ; so they scampered far and wide over the fair regions on both sides of the river, and came back at eventide weary, but laden with flowers and 211flushed with new health drawn from the fresh country air and the vigorous exercise.

After the burnings, the grown folk followed Joan from church to church and put in the day in thanksgivings for the city’s deliverance, and at night they fêted her and her generals and illuminated the town, and high and low gave themselves up to festivities and rejoicings. By the time the populace were fairly in bed, toward dawn, we were in the saddle and away toward Tours to report to the King.

That was a march which would have turned any one’s head but Joan’s. We moved between emotional ranks of grateful country people all the way. They crowded about Joan to touch her feet, her horse, her armor, and they even knelt in the road and kissed her horse’s hoof-prints.

The land was full of her praises. The most illustrious chiefs of the Church wrote to the King extolling the Maid, comparing her to the saints and heroes of the Bible, and warning him not to let unbelief, ingratitude, or other injustice hinder or impair the divine help sent through her. One might think there was a touch of prophecy in that, and we will let it go at that ; but to my mind it had its inspiration in those great men’s accurate knowledge of the King’s trivial and treacherous character.

The King had come to Tours to meet Joan. At the present day this poor thing is called Charles the Victorious, an account of victories which other people won for him, but in our time we had a private name for him which described him better, and was sanctified to him by personal deserving — Charles the Base. When we entered the presence he sat throned, with his tinselled snobs and dandies around him. He looked like a forked carrot, so tightly did his clothing fit him from his waist down ; he wore shoes with a rope-like pliant toe a foot long that had to be hitched up to the knee to keep it out of the way ; he had on a crimson velvet cape that came no lower than his elbows ; on his head he had a tall felt thing like a thimble, with a feather in its jewelled band that stuck up like a pen from an inkhorn, and from under that thimble 212his bush of stiff hair stuck down to his shoulders, curving outwards at the bottom, so that the cap and the hair together made the head like a shuttlecock. All the materials of his dress were rich, and all the colors brilliant. In his lap he cuddled a miniature greyhound that snarled, lifting its lip and showing its white teeth whenever any slight movement disturbed it. The King’s dandies were dressed in about the same fashion as himself, and when I remembered that Joan had called the war-council of Orleans disguised ladies maids, it reminded me of people who squander all their money on a trifle and then haven’t anything to invest when they come across a better chance ; that name ought to have been saved for these creatures.

Joan fell on her knees before the majesty of France, and the other frivolous animal in his lap — a sight which it pained me to see. What had that man done for his country or for anybody in it, that she or any other person should kneel to him ? But she — she had just done the only great deed that had been done for France in fifty years, and had consecrated it with the libation of her blood. The positions should have been reversed.

However, to be fair, one must grant that Charles acquitted himself very well for the most part, on that occasion — very much better than he was in the habit of doing. He passed his pup to a courtier, and took off his cap to Joan as if she had been a queen. Then he stepped from his throne and raised her, and showed quite a spirited and manly joy and gratitude in welcoming her and thanking her for her extraordinary achievement in his service. My prejudices are of a later date than that. If he had continued as he was at that moment, I should not have acquired them.

He acted handsomely. He said —

You shall not kneel to me, my matchless General ; you have wrought royally, and royal courtesies are your due. Noticing that she was pale, he said, But you must not stand ; you have lost blood for France, and your wound is yet green — come. He led her to a seat and sat down by her. Now, then, speak out frankly, as to one who owes you much and 213freely confesses it before all this courtly assemblage. What shall be your reward ? Name it.

I was ashamed of him. And yet that was not fair, for how could he be expected to know this marvellous child in these few weeks, when we who thought we had known her all her life were daily seeing the clouds uncover some new altitudes of her character whose existence was not suspected by us before ? But we are all that way : when we know a thing we have only scorn for other people who don’t happen to know it. And I was ashamed of these courtiers, too, for the way they licked their chops, so to speak, as envying Joan her great chance, they not knowing her any better than the King did. A blush began to rise in Joan’s cheeks at the thought that she was working for her country for pay, and she dropped her head and tried to hide her face, as girls always do when they find themselves blushing ; no one knows why they do, but they do, and the more they blush the more they fail to get reconciled to it, and the more they can’t bear to have people look at them when they are doing it. The King made it a great deal worse by calling attention to it, which is the unkindest thing a person can do when a girl is blushing ; sometimes, when there is a big crowd of strangers, it is even likely to make her cry if she is as young as Joan was. God knows the reason for this, it is hidden from men. As for me, I would as soon blush as sneeze ; in fact, I would rather. However, these meditations are not of consequence : I will go on with what I was saying. The King rallied her for blushing, and this brought up the rest of the blood and turned her face to fire. Then he was sorry, seeing what he had done, and tried to make her comfortable by saying the blush was exceedingly becoming to her and not to mind it — which caused even the dog to notice it now, so of course the red in Joan’s face turned to purple, and the tears overflowed and ran down — I could have told anybody that that would happen. The King was distressed, and saw that the best thing to do would be to get away from this subject, so he began to say the finest kind of things about Joan’s capture of the Tourelles, and 214presently when she was more composed he mentioned the reward again and pressed her to name it. Everybody listened with anxious interest to hear what her claim was going to be, but when her answer came their faces showed that the thing she asked for was not what they had been expecting.

Oh, dead and gracious Dauphin, I have but one desire — only one. If —

Do not be afraid, my child — name it.

That you will not delay a day. My army is strong and valiant, and eager to finish its work — march with me to Rheims and receive your crown.

You could see the indolent King shrink, in his butterfly clothes.

To Rheims — oh, impossible, my General ! We march through the heart of England’s power ?

Could those be French faces there ? Not one of them lighted in response to the girl’s brave proposition, but all promptly showed satisfaction in the King’s objection. Leave this silken idleness for the rude contact of war ? None of these butterflies desired that. They passed their jewelled comfit-boxes one to another and whispered their content in the head butterfly’s practical prudence. Joan pleaded with the King, saying —

Ah, I pray you do not throw away this perfect opportunity. Everything is favorable — everything. It is as if the circumstances were specially made for it. The spirits of our army are exalted with victory, those of the English forces depressed by defeat. Delay will change this. Seeing us hesitate to follow up our advantage, our men will wonder, doubt, lose confidence, and the English will wonder, gather courage, and be bold again. Now is the time — prithee let us march !

The King shook his head, and La Tremouille, being asked for an opinion, eagerly furnished it —

Sire, all prudence is against it. Think of the English strongholds along the Loire ; think of those that lie between us and Rheims !

He was going on, but Joan cut him short, and said, turning to him —

215If we wait, they will all be strengthened, re-enforced. Will that advantage us ?

Why — no.

Then what is your suggestion ? — what is it that you would propose to do ?

My judgment is to wait.

Wait for what ?

The minister was obliged to hesitate, for he knew of no explanation that would sound well. Moreover, he was not used to being catechised in this fashion, with the eyes of a crowd of people on him ; so he was irritated, and said —

Matters of state are not proper matters for public discussion.

Joan said placidly —

I have to beg your pardon. My trespass came of ignorance. I did not know that matters connected with your department of the government were matters of state.

The minister lifted his brows in amused surprise, and said, with a touch of sarcasm —

I am the King’s chief minister, and yet you had the impression that matters connected with my department are not matters of state ? Pray how is that ?

Joan replied, indifferently —

Because there is no state.

No state !

No, sir, there is no state, and no use for a minister. France is shrunk to a couple of acres of ground ; a sheriff’s constable could take care of it ; its affairs are not matters of state. The term is too large.

The King did not blush, but burst into a hearty, careless laugh, and the court laughed too, but prudently turned its head and did it silently. La Tremouille was angry, and opened his mouth to speak, but the King put up his hand, and said —

There — I take her under the royal protection. She has spoken the truth, the ungilded truth — how seldom I hear it ! With all this tinsel on me and all this tinsel about me, I am but a sheriff after all — a poor shabby two-acre sheriff — and 216you are but a constable, and he laughed his cordial laugh again. Joan, my frank, honest General, will you name your reward ? I would ennoble you. You shall quarter the crown and the lilies of France for blazon, and with them your victorious sword to defend them — speak the word.

It made an eager buzz of surprise and envy in the assemblage, but Joan shook her head and said —

Ah, I cannot, dear and noble Dauphin. To be allowed to work for France, to spend one’s self for France, is itself so supreme a reward that nothing can add to it — nothing. Give me the one reward I ask, the dearest of all rewards, the highest in your gift — march with me to Rheims and receive your crown. I will beg it on my knees.

But the King put his hand on her arm, and there was a really brave awakening in his voice and a manly fire in his eye when he said —

No ; sit. You have conquered me ; it shall be as you —

But a warning sign from his minister halted him, and he added, to the relief of the court —

Well, well, we will think of it, we will think it over and see. Does that content you, impulsive little soldier ?

The first part of the speech sent a glow of delight to Joan’s face, but the end of it quenched it and she looked sad, and the tears gathered in her eyes. After a moment she spoke out with what seemed a sort of terrified impulse, and said —

Oh, use me ; I beseech you, use me — there is but little time !

But little time ?

Only a year — I shall last only a year.

Why, child, there are fifty good years in that compact little body yet.

Oh, you err, indeed you do. In one little year the end will come. Ah, the time is so short, so short ; the moments are flying, and so much to be done. Oh, use me, and quickly — it is life or death for France.

Even those insects were sobered by her impassioned words. The King looked very grave — grave, and strongly impressed. 217His eyes lit suddenly with an eloquent fire and he rose and drew his sword and raised it aloft ; then he brought it slowly down upon Joan’s shoulder and said —

Ah, thou art so simple, so true, so great, so noble — and by this accolade I join thee to the nobility of France, thy fitting place ! And for thy sake I do hereby ennoble all thy family and all thy kin, and all their descendants born in wedlock, not only in the male but also in the female line. And more ! — more ! To distinguish thy house and honor it above all others, we add a privilege never accorded to any before in the history of these dominions ; the females of thy line shall have and hold the right to ennoble their husbands when these shall be of inferior degree. [Astonishment and envy flared up in every countenance when the words were uttered which conferred this extraordinary grace. The King paused and looked around upon these signs with quite evident satisfaction.] Rise Joan of Arc, now and henceforth surnamed Du Lis, in grateful acknowledgement of the good blow which you have struck for the lilies of France ; and they, and the royal crown, and your own victorious sword, fit and fair company for each other, shall be grouped in your escutcheon and be and remain the symbol of your high nobility forever.

As my lady Du Lis rose, the gilded children of privilege pressed forward to welcome her to their sacred ranks and call her by her new name ; but she was troubled, and said these honors were not meet for one of her lowly birth and station, and by their kind grace she would remain simple Joan of Arc, nothing more — and so be called.

Nothing more ! As if there could be anything more, anything higher, anything greater ! My lady Du Lis — why, it was tinsel, pretty, perishable. But — Joan of Arc ! The mere sound of it sets one’s pulses leaping.

218Chapter 24

Tinsel Trappings of Nobility

It was vexatious to see what a to-do the whole town, and next the whole country, made over the news. Joan of Arc ennobled by the King ! People went dizzy with wonder and delight over it. You cannot imagine how she was gaped at, stared at, envied. Why, one would have supposed that some great and fortunate thing had happened to her. But we did not think any great things of it. To our minds no mere human hand could add a glory to Joan of Arc. To us she was the sun soaring in the heavens, and her new nobility a candle atop of it ; to us it was swallowed up and lost in her own light. And she was as indifferent to it and as unconscious of it as the other sun would have been.

But it was different with her brothers. They were proud and happy in their new dignity, which was quite natural. And Joan was glad it had been conferred, when she saw how pleased they were. It was a clever thought in the King to outflank her scruples by marching on them under shelter of her love for her family and her kin.

Jean and Pierre sported their coat-of-arms right away, and their society was courted by everybody, the nobles and commons alike. The Standard-bearer said, with some touch of bitterness, that he could see that they just felt good to be alive, they were so soaked with the comfort of their glory, and didn’t like to sleep at all, because when they were asleep they didn’t know they were noble, and so sleep was a clean loss of time. And then he said —

They can’t take precedence of me in military functions and state ceremonies, but when it comes to civil ones and society affairs I judge they’ll cuddle coolly in behind you and 219the knights, and Noël and I will have to walk behind them — hey ?

Yes, I said, I think you are right.

I was just afraid of it — just afraid of it, said the Standard-bearer, with a sigh. Afraid of it ? I’m talking like a fool : of course I knew it. Yes, I was talking like a fool.

Noël Rainguesson said, musingly —

Yes, I noticed something natural about the tone of it.

We others laughed.

Oh, you did, did you ? You think you are very clever, don’t you ? I’ll take and wring your neck for you one of these days, Noël Rainguesson.

The Sieur de Metz said —

Paladin, your fears haven’t reached the top notch. They are away below the grand possibilities. Didn’t it occur to you that in civil and society functions they will take precedence of all the rest of the personal staff — every individual of us ?

Oh, come !

You’ll find it’s so. Look at their escutcheon. Its chiefest feature is the lilies of France. It’s royal, man, royal — do you understand the size of that ? The lilies are there by authority of the King — do you understand the size of that ? Though not in detail and in entirety, they do nevertheless substantially quarter the arms of France in their coat. Imagine it ! consider it ! measure the magnitude of it ! We walk in front of those boys ? Bless you, we’ve done that for the last time. In my opinion there isn’t a lay lord in this whole region that can walk in front of them, except the Duke d’Alençon, prince of the blood.

You could have knocked the Paladin down with a feather. He seemed to actually turn pale. He worked his lips a moment without getting anything out ; then it came —

I didn’t know that, nor the half of it ; how could I ? I’ve been an idiot. I see it now — I’ve been an idiot. I met them this morning, and sung out hello to them just as I would to anybody. I didn’t mean to be ill-mannered, but I didn’t know 220the half of this that you’ve been telling. I’ve been an ass. Yes, that is all there is to it — I’ve been an ass.

Noël Rainguesson said, in a kind of weary way —

Yes, that is likely enough ; but I don’t see why you should seem surprised at it.

You don’t, don’t you ? Well, why don’t you ?

Because I don’t see any novelty about it. With some people it is a condition which is present all the time. Now you take a condition which is present all the time, and the results of that condition will be uniform : this uniformity of result will in time become monotonous ; monotonousness, by the law of its being, is fatiguing. If you had manifested fatigue upon noticing that you had been an ass, that would have been logical, that would have been rational ; whereas it seems to me that to manifest surprise was to be again an ass, because the condition of intellect that can enable a person to be surprised and stirred by inert monotonousness is a —

Now that is enough, Noël Rainguesson ; stop where you are, before you get yourself into trouble. And don’t bother me any more for some days or a week an it please you, for I cannot abide your clack.

Come, I like that ! I didn’t want to talk. I tried to get out of talking. If you didn’t want to hear my clack, what did you keep intruding your conversation on me for ?

I ? I never dreamed of such a thing.

Well, you did it, anyway. And I have a right to feel hurt, and I do feel hurt, to have you treat me so. It seems to me that when a person goads, and crowds, and in a manner forces another person to talk, it is neither very fair nor very good-mannered to call what he says clack.

Oh, snuffle — do ! and break your heart, you poor thing ! Somebody fetch this sick doll a sugar-rag. Look you, Sir Jean de Metz, do you feel absolutely certain about that thing ?

What thing ?

Why, that Jean and Pierre are going to take precedence of all the lay noblesse hereabouts except the Duke d’Alençon ?

221I think there is not a doubt of it.

The Standard-bearer was deep in thoughts and dreams a few moments, then the silk-and-velvet expanse of his vast breast rose and fell with a sigh, and he said —

Dear, dear, what a lift it is ! It just shows what luck can do. Well, I don’t care. I shouldn’t care to be a painted accident — I shouldn’t value it. I am prouder to have climbed up to where I am just by sheer natural merit than I would be to ride the very sun in the zenith and have to reflect that I was nothing but a poor little accident, and got shot up there out of somebody else’s catapult. To me, merit is everything — in fact, the only thing. All else is dross.

Just then the bugles blew the assembly, and that cut our talk short.

222Chapter 25

At Last—Forward !

The days began to waste away — and nothing decided, nothing done. The army was full of zeal, but it was also hungry. It got no pay, the treasury was getting empty, it was becoming impossible to feed it ; under pressure of privation it began to fall apart and disperse — which pleased the trifling court exceedingly. Joan’s distress was pitiful to see. She was obliged to stand helpless while her victorious army dissolved away, until hardly the skeleton of it was left.

At last one day she went to the Castle of Loches, where the King was idling. She found him consulting with three of his councillors, Robert le Maçon, a former Chancellor of France, Christophe d’Harcourt, and Gerard Machet. The Bastard of Orleans was present also, and it is through him that we know what happened. Joan threw herself at the King’s feet and embraced his knees, saying —

Noble Dauphin, prithee hold no more of these long and numerous councils, but come, and come quickly, to Rheims and receive your crown.

Christophe d’Harcourt asked —

Is it your Voices that command you to say that to the King ?

Yes, and urgently.

Then will you not tell us in the King’s presence in what way the Voices communicate with you ?

It was another sly attempt to trap Joan into indiscreet admissions and dangerous pretensions. But nothing came of it. Joan’s answer was simple and straightforward, and the smooth Bishop was not able to find any fault with it. She said that when she met with people who doubted the truth of 223her mission she went aside and prayed, complaining of the distrust of these, and then the comforting Voices were heard at her ear saying, soft and low, Go forward, Daughter of God, and I will help thee. Then she added, When I hear that, the joy in my heart, oh, it is insupportable !

The Bastard said that when she said these words her face lit up as with a flame, and she was like one in an ecstasy.

Joan pleaded, persuaded, reasoned ; gaining ground little by little, but opposed step by step by the council. She begged, she implored, leave to march. When they could answer nothing further, they granted that perhaps it had been a mistake to let the army waste away, but how could we help it now ? how could we march without an army ?

Raise one, said Joan.

But it will take six weeks.

No matter — begin ! let us begin !

It is too late. Without doubt the Duke of Bedford has been gathering troops to push to the succor of his strongholds on the Loire.

Yes, while we have been disbanding ours — and pity ‘tis. But we must throw away no more time ; we must bestir ourselves.

The King objected that he could not venture toward Rheims with those strong places on the Loire in his path. But Joan said —

We will break them up. Then you can march.

With that plan the King was willing to venture assent. He could sit around out of danger while the road was being cleared.

Joan came back in great spirits. Straightway everything was stirring. Proclamations were issued calling for men, a recruiting camp was established at Selles, in Berry, and the commons and the nobles began to flock to it with enthusiasm.

A deal of the month of May had been wasted ; and yet by the 6th of June Joan had swept together a new army and was ready to march. She had eight thousand men. Think of 224that. Think of gathering together such a body as that in that little region. And these were veteran soldiers, too. In fact most of the men in France were soldiers, when you came to that; for the wars had lasted generations now. Yes, most Frenchmen were soldiers ; and admirable runners, too, both by practice and inheritance ; they had done next to nothing but run for near a century. But that was not their fault. They had had no fair and proper leadership — at least leaders with a fair and proper chance. Away back, King and Court got the habit of being treacherous to the leaders ; then the leaders easily got the habit of disobeying the King and going their own way, each for himself and nobody for the lot. Nobody could win victories that way. Hence, running became the habit of the French troops, and no wonder. Yet all that those troops needed in order to be good fighters was a leader who would attend strictly to business — a leader with all authority in his hands in place of a tenth of it along with nine other generals equipped with an equal tenth apiece. They had a leader rightly clothed with authority now, and with a head and heart bent on war of the most intensely businesslike and earnest sort — and there would be results. No doubt of that. They had Joan of Arc ; and under that leadership their legs would lose the art and mystery of running.

Yes, Joan was in great spirits. She was here and there and everywhere, all over the camp, by day and by night, pushing things. And wherever she came charging down the lines, reviewing the troops, it was good to hear them break out and cheer. And nobody could help cheering, she was such a vision of young bloom and beauty and grace, and such an incarnation of pluck and life and go ! She was growing more and more ideally beautiful every day, as was plain to be seen — and these were days of development ; for she was well past seventeen, now — in fact, she was getting close upon seventeen and a half — indeed, just a little woman, as you may say.

The two young Counts de Laval arrived one day — fine young fellows allied to the greatest and most illustrious houses of France ; and they could not rest till they had seen 225Joan of Arc. So the King sent for them and presented them to her, and you may believe she filled the bill of their expectations. When they heard that rich voice of hers they must have thought it was a flute ; and when they saw her deep eyes and her face, and the soul that looked out of that face, you could see that the sight of her stirred them like a poem, like lofty eloquence, like martial music. One of them wrote home to his people, and in his letter he said, It seemed something divine to see her and hear her. Ah, yes, and it was a true word. Truer word was never spoken.

He saw her when she was ready to begin her march and open the campaign, and this is what he said about it —

She was clothed all in white armor save her head, and in her hand she carried a little battle-axe ; and when she was ready to mount her great black horse he reared and plunged and would not let her. Then she said, Lead him to the cross. This cross was in front of the church close by. So they led him there. Then she mounted, and he never budged, any more than if he had been tied. Then she turned toward the door of the church and said, in her soft womanly voice, You, priests and people of the Church, make processions and pray to God for us ! Then she spurred away, under her standard, with her little axe in her hand, crying Forward — march ! One of her brothers, who came eight days ago, departed with her ; and he also was clad all in white armor.

I was there, and I saw it too ; saw it all, just as he pictures it. And I see it yet — the little battle-axe, the dainty plumed cap, the white armor — all in the soft June afternoon ; I see it just as if it were yesterday. And I rode with the staff — the personal staff — the staff of Joan of Arc.

That young Count was dying to go too, but the King held him back for the present. But Joan had made him a promise. In his letter he said —

She told me that when the King starts for Rheims I shall go with him. But God grant I may not have to wait till then, but may have a part in the battles !

She made him that promise when she was taking leave of 226my lady the Duchess d’Alençon. The Duchess was exacting a promise, so it seemed a proper time for others to do the like. The Duchess was troubled for her husband, for she foresaw desperate fighting ; and she held Joan to her breast, and stroked her hair lovingly, and said —

You must watch over him, dear, and take care of him, and send him back to me safe. I require it of you ; I will not let you go till you promise.

Joan said —

I give you the promise with all my heart ; and it is not just words, it is a promise : you shall have him back without a hurt. Do you believe ? And are you satisfied with me now ?

The Duchess could not speak, but she kissed Joan on the forehead ; and so they parted.

We left on the 6th and stopped over at Romorantin ; then on the 9th Joan entered Orleans in state, under triumphal arches, with the welcoming cannon thundering and seas of welcoming flags fluttering in the breeze. The Grand Staff rode with her, clothed in shining splendors of costume and decorations : the Duke d’Alençon ; the Bastard of Orleans ; the Sire de Boussac, Marshal of France ; the Lord de Graville, Master of the Crossbowmen ; the Sire de Culan, Admiral of France ; Ambroise de Loré ; Étienne de Vignoles, called La Hire ; Gautier de Brusac, and other illustrious captains.

It was grand times : the usual shoutings, and packed multitudes, the usual crush to get sight of Joan ; but at last we crowded through to our old lodgings, and I saw old Boucher and the wife and that dear Catherine gather Joan to their hearts and smother her with kisses — and my heart ached so ! for I could have kissed Catherine better than anybody, and more and longer ; yet was not thought of for that office, and I so famished for it. Ah, she was so beautiful, and oh, so sweet ! I had loved her the first day I ever saw her, and from that day forth she was sacred to me. I have carried her image in my heart for sixty-three years — all lonely there, 227yes, solitary, for it never has had company — and I am grown so old, so old : but it, oh it is as fresh and young and merry and mischievous and lovely and sweet and pure and witching and divine as it was when it crept in there, bringing benediction and peace to its habitation so long ago, so long ago — for it has not aged a day !

228Chapter 26

The Last Doubts Scattered

This time, as before, the King’s last command to the generals was this : See to it that you do nothing without the sanction of the Maid. And this time the command was obeyed ; and would continue to be obeyed all through the coming great days of the Loire campaign.

That was a change ! That was new ! It broke the traditions. It shows you what sort of a reputation as a commander-in-chief the child had made for herself in ten days in the field. It was a conquering of men’s doubts and suspicions and a capturing and solidifying of men’s belief and confidence such as the grayest veteran on the Grand Staff had not been able to achieve in thirty years. Don’t you remember that when at sixteen Joan conducted her own case in a grim court of law and won it, the old judge spoke of her as this marvellous child’ ? It was the right name, you see.

These veterans were not going to branch out and do things without the sanction of the Maid — that is true ; and it was a great gain. But at the same time there were some among them who still trembled at her new and dashing war-tactics and earnestly desired to modify them. And so, during the 10th, while Joan was slaving away at her plans and issuing order after order with tireless industry, the old-time consultations and arguings and speechifyings were going on among certain of the generals.

In the afternoon of that day they came in a body to hold one of these councils of war ; and while they waited for Joan to join them they discussed the situation. Now this discussion is not set down in the histories, but I was there, and 229I will speak of it, as knowing you will trust me, I not being given to beguiling you with lies.

Gautier de Brusac was spokesman for the timid ones ; Joan’s side was resolutely upheld by D’Alençon, the Bastard, La Hire, the Admiral of France, the Marshal de Boussac, and all the other really important chiefs.

De Brusac argued that the situation was very grave ; that Jargeau, the first point of attack, was formidably strong ; its imposing walls bristling with artillery ; with 7,000 picked English veterans behind them, and at their head the great Earl of Suffolk and his two redoubtable brothers, the De la Poles. It seemed to him that the proposal of Joan of Arc to try to take such a place by storm was a most rash and over-daring idea, and she ought to be persuaded to relinquish it in favor of the soberer and safer procedure of investment by regular siege. It seemed to him that this fiery and furious new fashion of hurling masses of men against impregnable walls of stone, in defiance of the established laws and usages of war, was :

But he got no further. La Hire gave his plumed helm an impatient toss and burst out with —

By God she knows her trade, and none can teach it her !

And before he could get out anything more, D’Alençon was on his feet, and the Bastard of Orleans, and half a dozen others, all thundering at once, and pouring out their indignant displeasure upon any and all that might hold, secretly or publicly, distrust of the wisdom of the Commander-in-Chief. And when they had said their say, La Hire took a chance again, and said —

There are some that never know how to change. Circumstances may change, but those people are never able to see that they have got to change too, to meet those circumstances. All that they know is the one beaten track that their fathers and grandfathers have followed and that they themselves have followed in their turn. If an earthquake come and rip the land to chaos, and that beaten track now lead over precipices and into morasses, those people can’t learn that they 230must strike out a new road — no ; they will march stupidly along and follow the old one to death and perdition. Men, there’s a new state of things, and a surpassing military genius has perceived it with her clear eye. And a new road is required, and that same clear eye has noted where it must go, and has marked it out for us. The man does not live, never has lived, never will live, that can improve upon it ! The old state of things was defeat, defeat, defeat — and by consequence we had troops with no dash, no heart, no hope. Would you assault stone walls with such ? No — there was but one way with that kind : sit down before a place and wait, wait — starve it out, if you could. The new case is the very opposite ; it is this : men all on fire with pluck and dash and vim and fury and energy — a restrained conflagration ! What would you do with it ? Hold it down and let it smoulder and perish and go out ? What would Joan of Arc do with it ? Turn it loose, by the Lord God of heaven and earth, and let it swallow up the foe in the whirlwind of its fires ! Nothing shows the splendor and wisdom of her military genius like her instant comprehension of the size of the change which has come about, and her instant perception of the right and only right way to take advantage of it. With her is no sitting down and starving out ; no dilly-dallying and fooling around ; no lazying, loafing, and going to sleep ; no, it is storm ! storm ! storm ! and still storm ! storm ! storm ! and forever storm ! storm ! storm ! hunt the enemy to his hole, then turn her French hurricanes loose and carry him by storm ! And that is my sort ! Jargeau ? What of Jargeau, with its battlements and towers, its devastating artillery, its seven thousand picked veterans ? Joan of Arc is to the fore, and by the splendor of God its fate is sealed !

Oh, he carried them. There was not another word said about persuading Joan to change her tactics. They sat talking comfortably enough after that.

By-an-by Joan entered, and they rose and saluted with their swords, and she asked what their pleasure might be. La Hire said —

231It is settled, my General. The matter concerned Jargeau. There were some who thought we could not take the place.

Joan laughed her pleasant laugh ; her merry, care-free laugh ; the laugh that rippled so buoyantly from her lips and made old people feel young again to hear it ; and she said to the company —

Have no fears — indeed there is no need nor any occasion for them. We sill strike the English boldly by assault, and you will see. Then a far-away look came into her eyes, and I think that a picture of her home drifted across the vision of her mind ; for she said very gently, and as one who muses, But that I know God guides us and will give us success, I had liefer keep sheep than endure these perils.

We had a homelike farewell supper that evening — just the personal staff and the family. Joan had to miss it ; for the city had given a banquet in her honor, and she had gone there in state with the Grand Staff, through a riot of joy-bells and a sparkling Milky Way of illuminations.

After supper some lively young folk whom we knew came in, and we presently forgot that we were soldiers, and only remembered that we were boys and girls and full of animal spirits and long-pent fun ; and so there was dancing, and games, and romps, and screams of laughter — just as extravagant and innocent and noisy a good time as ever I had in my life. Dear, dear, how long ago it was ! — and I was young then. And outside, all the while, was the measured tramp of marching battalions, belated odds and ends of the French power gathering for the morrow’s tragedy on the grim stage of war. Yes, in those days we had those contrasts side by side. And as I passed along to bed there was another one : the big Dwarf, in brave new armor, sat sentry at Joan’s door — the stern Spirit of War made flesh, as it were — and on his ample shoulder was curled a kitten asleep.

232Chapter 27

How Joan Took Jargeau

We made a gallant show next day when we filed out through the frowning gates of Orleans, with banners flying and Joan and the Grand Staff in the van of the long column. Those two young De Lavals were come, now, and were joined to the Grand Staff. Which was well ; war being their proper trade, for they were grandsons of that illustrious fighter Bertrand du Guesclin, Constable of France in earlier days. Louis de Bourbon, the Marshal de Rais, and the Vidame de Chartres were added also. We had a right to feel a little uneasy, for we knew that a force of five thousand men was on its way under Sir John Fastolfe to reinforce Jargeau, but I think we were not uneasy, nevertheless. In truth, that force was not yet in our neighborhood. Sir John was loitering ; for some reason or other he was not hurrying. He was losing precious time — four days at Étampes, and four more at Janville.

We reached Jargeau and began business at once. Joan sent forward a heavy force which hurled itself against the outworks in handsome style, and gained a footing and fought hard to keep it ; but it presently began to fall back before a sortie from the city. Seeing this, Joan raised her battle-cry and led a new assault herself under a furious artillery fire. The Paladin was struck down at her side, wounded, but she snatched her standard from his failing hand, and plunged on through the ruck of flying missiles, cheering her men with encouraging cries ; and then for a good time one had turmoil, and clash of steel, and collision and confusion of struggling multitudes, and the hoarse bellowing of the guns ; and then the hiding of it all under a rolling firmament of smoke ; a firmament through which veiled vacancies appeared for a moment 233now and then, giving fitful dim glimpses of the wild tragedy enacting beyond ; and always at these times one caught sight of that slight figure in white mail which was the centre and soul of our hope and trust, and whenever we saw that, with its back to us and its face to the fight, we knew that all was well. At last a great shout went up — a joyous roar of shoutings, in fact — and that was sign sufficient that the faubourgs were ours.

Yes, they were ours ; the enemy had been driven back within the walls. On the ground which Joan had won, we camped ; for night was coming on.

Joan sent a summons to the English, promising that if they surrendered she would allow them to go in peace and take their horses with them. Nobody knew that she could take that strong place, but she knew it — knew it well ; yet she offered that grace — offered it in a time when such a thing was unknown in war ; in a time when it was custom and usage to massacre the garrison and the inhabitants of captured cities without pity or compunction — yes, even to the harmless women and children sometimes. There are neighbors all about you who well remember the unspeakable atrocities which Charles the Bold inflicted upon the men and women and children of Dinant when he took that place some years ago. It was a unique and kindly grace which Joan offered that garrison ; but that was her way, that was her loving and merciful nature — she always did her best to save her enemy’s life and his soldierly pride when she had the mastery of him.

The English asked fifteen days’ armistice to consider the proposal in. And Fastolfe coming with five thousand men ! Joan said no. But she offered another grace : they might take both their horses and their side-arms — but they must go within the hour.

Well, those bronzed English veterans were pretty hard-headed folk. They declined again. Then Joan gave command that her army be made ready to move to the assault at nine in the morning. Considering the deal of marching and fighting which the men had done that day, D’Alençon thought 234the hour rather early ; but Joan said it was best so, and so must be obeyed. Then she burst out with one of those enthusiasms which were always burning in her when battle was imminent, and said —

Work ! work ! and God will work with us !

Yes, one might say that her motto was Work ! stick to it, keep on working ! for in war she never knew what indolence was. And whoever will take that motto and live by it will be likely to succeed. There’s many a way to win in this world, but none of them is worth much without good hard work back of it.

I think we should have lost our big Standard-Bearer that day, if our bigger Dwarf had not been at hand to bring him out of the mêlée when he was wounded. He was unconscious, and would have been trampled to death by our own horse, if the Dwarf had not promptly rescued him and haled him to the rear and safety. He recovered, and was himself again after two or three hours, and then he was happy and proud, and made the most of his wound, and went swaggering around in his bandages showing off like an innocent big child — which was just what he was. He was prouder of being wounded than a really modest person would be of being killed. But there was no harm in his vanity, and nobody minded it. He said he was hit by a stone from a catapult — a stone the size of a man’s head. But the stone grew, of course. Before he got through with it he was claiming that the enemy had flung a building at him.

Let him alone, said Noël Rainguesson. Don’t interrupt his processes. To-morrow it will be a cathedral.

He said that privately. And, sure enough, to-morrow it was a cathedral. I never saw anybody with such an abandoned imagination.

Joan was abroad at the crack of dawn, galloping here and there and yonder, examining the situation minutely, and choosing what she considered the most effective positions for her artillery ; and with such accurate judgment did she place her 235guns that her Lieutenant-General’s admiration of it still survived in his memory when his testimony was taken at the Rehabilitation, a quarter of a century later.

In this testimony the Duke d’Alençon said that at Jargeau that morning of the 12th of June she made her dispositions not like a novice, but with the sure and clear judgment of a trained general of twenty or thirty years’ experience.

The veteran captains of the armies of France said she was great in war in all ways, but greatest of all in her genius for posting and handling artillery.

Who taught the shepherd girl to do these marvels — she who could not read, and had had no opportunity to study the complex arts of war ? I do not know any way to solve such a baffling riddle as that, there being no precedent for it, nothing in history to compare it with and examine it by. For in history there is no great general, however gifted, who arrived at success otherwise than through able teaching and hard study and some experience. It is a riddle which will never be guessed. I think these vast powers and capacities were born in her, and that she applied them by an intuition which could not err.

At eight o’clock all movement ceased, and with it all sounds, all noise. A mute expectancy reigned. The stillness was something awful — because it meant so much. There was no air stirring. The flags on the towers and ramparts hung straight down like tassels. Wherever one saw a person, that person had stopped what he was doing, and was in a waiting attitude, a listening attitude. We were on a commanding spot, clustered around Joan. Not far from us, on every hand, were the lanes and humble dwellings of these outlying suburbs. Many people were visible — all were listening, not one was moving. A man had placed a nail ; he was about to fasten something with it to the door-post of his shop — but he had stopped. There was his hand reaching up holding the nail ; and there was his other hand in the act of striking with the hammer ; but he had forgotten everything — his head was turned aside, listening. Even children unconsciously 236stopped in their play ; I saw a little boy with his hoop-stick pointed slanting toward the ground in the act of steering the hoop around the corner ; and so he had stopped and was listening — the hoop was rolling away, doing its own steering. I saw a young girl prettily framed in an open window, a watering-pot in her hand and window-boxes of red flowers under its spout — but the water had ceased to flow ; the girl was listening. Everywhere were these impressive petrified forms ; and everywhere was suspended movement and that awful stillness.

Joan of Arc raised her sword in the air. At the signal, the silence was torn to rags ; cannon after cannon vomited flames and smoke and delivered its quaking thunders ; and we saw answering tongues of fire dart from the towers and walls of the city, accompanied by answering deep thunders, and in a minute the walls and the towers disappeared, and in their place stood vast banks and pyramids of snowy smoke, motionless in the dead air. The startled girl dropped her watering-pot and clasped her hands together, and at that moment a stone cannon-ball crashed through her fair body.

The great artillery duel went on, each side hammering away with all its might ; and it was splendid for smoke and noise, and most exalting to one’s spirits. The poor little town around about us suffered cruelly. The cannon-balls tore through its slight buildings, wrecking them as if they had been built of cards ; and every moment or two one would see a huge rock come curving through the upper air above the smoke clouds and go plunging down through the roofs. Fire broke out, and columns of flame and smoke rose toward the sky.

Presently the artillery concussions changed the weather. The sky became overcast, and a strong wind rose and blew away the smoke that hid the English fortresses.

Then the spectacle was fine : turreted gray walls and towers, and streaming bright flags, and jets of red fire and gushes of white smoke in long rows, all standing out with sharp vividness against the deep leaden background of the sky ; 237and then the whizzing missiles began to knock up the dirt all around us, and I felt no more interest in the scenery. There was one English gun that was getting our position down finer and finer all the time. Presently Joan pointed to it and said —

Fair Duke, step out of your tracks, or that machine will kill you.

The Duke d’Alençon did as he was bid ; but Monsieur du Lude rashly took his place, and that cannon tore his head off in a moment.

Joan was watching all along for the right time to order the assault. At last, about nine o’clock, she cried out —

Now — to the assault ! and the buglers blew the charge.

Instantly we saw the body of men that had been appointed to this service move forward toward a point where the concentrated fire of our guns had crumbled the upper half of a broad stretch of wall to ruins ; we saw this force descend into the ditch and begin to plant the scaling-ladders. We were soon with them. The Lieutenant-General thought the assault premature. But Joan said —

Ah, gentle Duke, are you afraid ? Do you not know that I have promised to send you home safe ?

It was warm work in the ditches. The walls were crowded with men, and they poured avalanches of stones down upon us. There was one gigantic Englishman who did us more hurt than any dozen of his brethren. He always dominated the places easiest of assault, and flung down exceedingly troublesome big stones which smashed men and ladders both — then he would near burst himself with laughing over what he had done. But the Duke settled accounts with him. He went and found the famous cannoneer Jean le Lorrain, and said —

Train your gun — kill me this demon.

He did it with the first shot. He hit the Englishman fair in the breast and knocked him backwards into the city.

The enemy’s resistance was so effective and so stubborn that our people began to show signs of doubt and dismay. Seeing this, Joan raised her inspiring battle-cry and descended 238into the fosse herself, the Dwarf helping her and the Paladin sticking bravely at her side with the standard. She started up a scaling-ladder, but a great stone flung from above came crashing down upon her helmet and stretched her, wounded and stunned, upon the ground. But only for a moment. The Dwarf stood her upon her feet, and straightway she started up the ladder again, crying —

To the assault, friends, to the assault — the English are ours ! It is the appointed hour !

There was a grand rush, and a fierce roar of war-cries, and we swarmed over the ramparts like ants. The garrison fled, we pursued ; Jargeau was ours !

The Earl of Suffolk was hemmed in and surrounded, and the Duke d’Alençon and the Bastard of Orleans demanded that he surrender himself. But he was a proud nobleman and came of a proud race. He refused to yield his sword to subordinates, saying —

I will die rather. I will surrender to the Maid of Orleans alone, and to no other.

And so he did ; and was courteously and honorably used by her.

His two brothers retreated, fighting step by step, toward the bridge, we pressing their despairing forces and cutting them down by scores. Arrived on the bridge, the slaughter still continued. Alexander de la Pole was pushed overboard or fell over, and was drowned. Eleven hundred men had fallen ; John de la Pole decided to give up the struggle. But he was nearly as proud and particular as his brother of Suffolk as to whom he would surrender to. The French officer nearest at hand was Guillaume Renault, who was pressing him closely. Sir John said to him —

Are you a gentleman ?

Yes.

And a knight ?

No.

Then Sir John knighted him himself, there on the bridge, giving him the accolade with English coolness and tranquillity 239in the midst of that storm of slaughter and mutilation, and then bowing with high courtesy took the sword by the blade and laid the hilt of it in the man’s hand in token of surrender. Ah, yes, a proud tribe, those De la Poles.

It was a grand day, a memorable day, a most splendid victory. We had a crowd of prisoners, but Joan would not allow them to be hurt. We took them with us and marched into Orleans next day through the usual tempest of welcome and joy.

And this time there was a new tribute to our leader. From everywhere in the packed streets the new recruits squeezed their way to her side to touch the sword of Joan of Arc and draw from it somewhat of that mysterious quality which made it invincible.

240Chapter 28

Joan Foretells Her Doom

The troops must have a rest. Two days would be allowed for this.

The morning of the 14th I was writing from Joan’s dictation in a small room which she sometimes used as a private office when she wanted to get away from officials and their interruptions. Catherine Boucher came in and sat down and said —

Joan, dear, I want you to talk to me.

Indeed I am not sorry for that, but glad. What is in your mind ?

This. I scarcely slept last night for thinking of the dangers you are running. The Paladin told me how you made the Duke stand out of the way when the cannon-balls were flying all about, and so saved his life.

Well, that was right, wasn’t it ?

Right ? Yes ; but you stayed there yourself. Why will you do like that ? It seems such a wanton risk.

Oh, no, it was not so. I was not in any danger.

How can you say that, Joan, with those deadly things flying all about you ?

Joan laughed, and tried to turn the subject, but Catherine persisted. She said —

It was horribly dangerous, and it could not be necessary to stay in such a place. And you led an assault again. Joan, it is tempting Providence. I want you to make me a promise. I want you to promise me that you will let others lead the assaults, if there must be assaults, and that you will take better care of yourself in those dreadful battles. Will you ?

But Joan fought away from the promise, and did not give 241it. Catherine sat troubled and discontented awhile, then she said —

Joan, are you going to be a soldier always ? These wars are so long — so long. They last forever and ever and ever.

There was a glad flash in Joan’s eye as she cried —

This campaign will do all the really hard work that is in front of it in the next four days. The rest of it will be gentler — oh, far less bloody. Yes, in four days France will gather another trophy like the redemption of Orleans, and make her second long step toward freedom !

Catherine started (and so did I) ; then she gazed long at Joan like one in a trance, murmuring four days — four days, as if to herself and unconsciously. Finally she asked, in a low voice that had something of awe in it —

Joan, tell me — how is it that you know that ? For you do know it, I think.

Yes, said Joan, dreamily, I know — I know. I shall strike — and strike again. And before the fourth day is finished I shall strike yet again. She became silent. We sat wondering and still. This was for a whole minute, she looking at the floor and her lips moving but uttering nothing. Then came these words, but hardly audible : And in a thousand years the English power in France will not rise up from that blow.

It made my flesh creep. It was uncanny. She was in a trance again — I could see it — just as she was that day in the pastures of Domremy when she prophesied about us boys in the war and afterward did not know that she had done it. She was not conscious now, but Catherine did not know that, and so she said, in a happy voice —

Oh, I believe it, I believe it, and I am so glad ! Then you will come back and bide with us all your life long, and we will love you so, and so honor you !

A scarcely perceptible spasm flitted across Joan’s face, and the dreamy voice muttered —

Before two years are sped I shall die a cruel death !

I sprang forward with a warning hand up. That is why 242Catherine did not scream. She was going to do that — I saw it plainly. Then I whispered her to slip out of the place, and say nothing of what had happened. I said Joan was asleep — asleep and dreaming. Catherine whispered back, and said —

Oh, I am so grateful that it is only a dream ! It sounded like a prophecy. And she was gone.

Like prophecy ! I knew it was prophecy ; and I sat down crying, as knowing we should lose her. Soon she started, shivering slightly, and came to herself, and looked around and saw me crying there, and jumped out of her chair and ran to me all in a whirl of sympathy and compassion, and put her hand on my head and said —

My poor boy ! What is it ? Look up, and tell me.

I had to tell her a lie ; I grieved to do it, but there was no other way. I picked up an old letter from my table, written by Heaven knows who, about some matter Heaven knows what, and told her I had just gotten it from Père Fronte, and that in it it said the children’s Fairy Tree had been chopped down by some miscreant or other, and :

I got no further. She snatched the letter from my hand and searched it up and down and all over, turning it this way and that, and sobbing great sobs, and the tears flowing down her cheeks, and ejaculating all the time, Oh, cruel, cruel ! how could any be so heartless ? Ah, poor Arbre Fée de Bourlemont gone — and we children loved it so ! Show me the place where it says it !

And I, still lying, showed her the pretended fatal words on the pretended fatal page, and she gazed at them through her tears, and said she could see herself that they were hateful, ugly words — they had the very look of it.

Then we heard a strong voice down the corridor announcing —

His Majesty’s messenger — with despatches for her Excellency the Commander-in-Chief of the armies of France !

243Chapter 29

Fierce Talbot Reconsiders

I knew she had seen the vision of the Tree. But when ? I could not know. Doubtless before she had lately told the King to use her, for that she had but one year left to work in. It had not occurred to me at the time, but the conviction came upon me now that at that time she had already seen the Tree. It had brought her a welcome message ; that was plain, otherwise she could not have been so joyous and light-hearted as she had been these latter days. The death-warning had nothing dismal about it for her ; no, it was remission of exile, it was leave to come home.

Yes, she had seen the Tree. No one had taken the prophecy to heart which she made to the King ; and for a good reason, no doubt ; no one wanted to take it to heart ; all wanted to banish it away and forget it. And all had succeeded, and would go on to the end placid and comfortable. All but me alone. I must carry my awful secret without any to help me. A heavy load, a bitter burden ; and would cost me a daily heart-break. She was to die ; and so soon. I had never dreamed of that. How could I, and she so strong and fresh and young, and every day earning a new right to a peaceful and honored old age ? For at that time I thought old age valuable. I do not know why, but I thought so. All young people think it, I believe, they being ignorant and full of superstitions. She had seen the Tree. All that miserable night those ancient verses went floating back and forth through my brain :

244But at dawn the bugles and the drums burst through the dreamy hush of the morning, and it was turn out all ! mount and ride. For there was red work to be done.

We marched to Meung without halting. There we carried the bridge by assault, and left a force to hold it, the rest of the army marching away next morning toward Beaugency, where the lion Talbot, the terror of the French, was in command. When we arrived at that place, the English retired into the castle and we sat down in the abandoned town.

Talbot was not at the moment present in person, for he had gone away to watch for and welcome Fastolfe and his re-enforcement of five thousand men.

Joan placed her batteries and bombarded the castle till night. Then some news came : Richemont, Constable of France, this long time in disgrace with the King, largely because of the evil machinations of La Tremouille and his party, was approaching with a large body of men to offer his services to Joan — and very much she needed them, now that Fastolfe was so close by. Richemont had wanted to join us before, when we first marched on Orleans ; but the foolish King, slave of those paltry advisers of his, warned him to keep his distance and refused all reconciliation with him.

I go into these details because they are important. Important because they lead up to the exhibition of a new gift in Joan’s extraordinary mental make-up — statesmanship. It is a sufficiently strange thing to find that great quality in an ignorant country girl of seventeen and a half, but she had it.

Joan was for receiving Richemont cordially, and so was La Hire and the two young Lavals and other chiefs, but the Lieutenant-General, D’Alençon, strenuously and stubbornly opposed it. He said he had absolute orders from the King to deny and defy Richemont, and that if they were overridden he would leave the army. This would have been a heavy disaster indeed. But Joan set herself the task of persuading him that the salvation of France took precedence of all minor things — even the commands of a sceptred ass ; and she accomplished it. She persuaded him to disobey the King in 245the interest of the nation, and to be reconciled to Count Richemont and welcome him. That was statesmanship ; and of the highest and soundest sort. Whatever thing men call great, look for it in Joan of Arc, and there you will find it.

In the early morning, June 17th, the scouts reported the approach of Talbot and Fastolfe with Fastolfe’s succoring force. Then the drums beat to arms ; and we set forth to meet the English, leaving Richemont and his troops behind to watch the castle of Beaugency and keep its garrison at home. By-and-by we came in sight of the enemy. Fastolfe had tried to convince Talbot that it would be wisest to retreat and not risk a battle with Joan at this time, but distribute the new levies among the English strongholds of the Loire, thus securing them against capture, then be patient and wait — wait for more levies from Paris ; let Joan exhaust her army with fruitless daily skirmishing ; then at the right time fall upon her in resistless mass and annihilate her. He was a wise old experienced general, was Fastolfe. But that fierce Talbot would hear of no delay. He was in a rage over the punishment which the Maid had inflicted upon him at Orleans and since, and he swore by God and Saint George that he would have it out with her if he had to fight her all alone. So Fastolfe yielded, though he said they were now risking the loss of everything which the English had gained by so many years’ work and so many hard knocks.

The enemy had taken up a strong position, and were waiting in order of battle, with their archers to the front and a stockade before them.

Night was coming on. A messenger came from the English with a rude defiance and an offer of battle. But Joan’s dignity was not ruffled, her bearing was not discomposed. She said to the herald —

Go back and say it is too late to meet to-night ; but to-morrow, please God and our Lady, we will come to close quarters.

The night fell dark and rainy. It was that sort of light steady rain which falls so softly and brings to one’s spirit 246such serenity and peace. About ten o’clock D’Alençon, the Bastard of Orleans, La Hire, Poton of Saintrailles, and two or three other generals came to our headquarters tent, and sat down to discuss matters with Joan. Some thought it was a pity that Joan had declined battle, some thought not. Then Poton asked her why she had declined it. She said —

There was more than one reason. These English are ours — they cannot get away from us. Wherefore there is no need to take risks, as at other times. The day was far spent. It is good to have much time and the fair light of day when one’s force is in a weakened state — nine hundred of us yonder keeping the bridge of Meung under the Marshal de Rais, fifteen hundred with the Constable of France keeping the bridge and watching the castle of Beaugency.

Dunois said —

I grieve for this depletion, Excellency, but it cannot be helped. And the case will be the same the morrow, as to that.

Joan was walking up and down, just then. She laughed her affectionate, comrady laugh, and stopping before that old war-tiger she put her small hand above his head and touched one of his plumes, saying —

Now tell me, wise man, which feather is it that I touch ?

In sooth, Excellency, that I cannot.

Name of God, Bastard, Bastard ! you cannot tell me this small thing, yet are bold to name a large one — telling us what is in the stomach of the unborn morrow : that we shall not have those men. Now it is my thought that they will be with us.

That made a stir. All wanted to know why she thought that. But La Hire took the word and said —

Let be. If she thinks it, that is enough. It will happen.

Then Poton of Saintrailles said —

There were other reasons for declining battle, according to the saying of your Excellency ?

Yes. One was that we being weak and the day far gone 247the battle might not be decisive. When it is fought it must be decisive. And shall be.

God grant it, and amen. There were still other reasons ?

One other — yes. She hesitated a moment, then said : This was not the day. To-morrow is the day. It is so written.

They were going to assail her with eager questionings, but she put up her hand and prevented them. Then she said —

It will be the most noble and beneficent victory that God has vouchsafed to France at any time. I pray you question me not as to whence or how I know this thing, but be content that it is so.

There was pleasure in every face, and conviction and high confidence. A murmur of conversation broke out, but was interrupted by a messenger from the outposts who brought news — namely, that for an hour there had been stir and movement in the English camp of a sort unusual at such a time and with a resting army, he said. Spies had been sent under cover of the rain and darkness to inquire into it. They had just come back and reported that large bodies of men had been dimly made out who were slipping stealthily away in the direction of Meung.

The generals were very much surprised, as any might tell from their faces.

It is a retreat, said Joan.

It has that look, said D’Alençon.

It certainly has, observed the Bastard and La Hire.

It was not to be expected, said Louis de Bourbon, but one can divine the purpose of it.

Yes, responded Joan. Talbot has reflected. His rash brain has cooled. He thinks to take the bridge of Meung and escape to the other side of the river. He knows that this leaves his garrison of Beaugency at the mercy of fortune, to escape our hands if it can ; but there is no other course if he would avoid this battle, and that he also knows. But he shall not get the bridge. We will see to that.

248Yes, said D’Alençon, we must follow him, and take care of that matter. What of Beaugency ?

Leave Beaugency to me, gentle Duke ; I will have it in two hours, and at no cost of blood.

It is true, Excellency. You will but need to deliver this news there and receive the surrender.

Yes. And I will be with you at Meung with the dawn, fetching the Constable and his fifteen hundred ; and when Talbot knows that Beaugency has fallen it will have an effect upon him

By the mass, yes ! cried La Hire. He will join his Meung garrison to his army and break for Paris. Then we shall have our bridge force with us again, along with our Beaugency-watchers, and be stronger for our great day’s work by four-and-twenty hundred able soldiers, as was here promised within the hour. Verily this Englishman is doing our errands for us and saving us much blood and trouble. Orders, Excellency — give us our orders !

They are simple. Let the men rest three hours longer. At one o’clock the advance-guard will march, under your command, with Poton of Saintrailles as second ; the second division will follow at two under the Lieutenant-General. Keep well in the rear of the enemy, and see to it that you avoid an engagement. I will ride under guard to Beaugency and make so quick work there that I and the Constable of France will join you before dawn with his men.

She kept her word. Her guard mounted and we rode off through the puttering rain, taking with us a captured English officer to confirm Joan’s news. We soon covered the journey and summoned the castle. Richard Guétin, Talbot’s lieutenant, being convinced that he and his five hundred men were left helpless, conceded that it would be useless to try to hold out. He could not expect easy terms, yet Joan granted them nevertheless. His garrison could keep their horses and arms, and carry away property to the value of a silver mark per man. They could go whither they pleased, but must not take arms against France again under ten days.

249Before dawn we were with our army again, and with us the Constable and nearly all his men, for we left only a small garrison in Beaugency castle. We heard the dull booming of cannon to the front, and knew that Talbot was beginning his attack on the bridge. But some time before it was yet light the sound ceased and we heard it no more.

Guétin had sent a messenger through our lines under a safe-conduct given by Joan, to tell Talbot of the surrender. Of course this poursuivant had arrived ahead of us. Talbot had held it wisdom to turn, now, and retreat upon Paris. When daylight came he had disappeared ; and with him Lord Scales and the garrison of Meung.

What a harvest of English strongholds we had reaped in those three days ! — strongholds which had defied France with quite cool confidence, and plenty of it, until we came.

250Chapter 30

The Red Field of Patay

When the morning broke at last on that forever memorable 18th of June, there was no enemy discoverable anywhere, as I have said. But that did not trouble me. I knew we should find him, and that we should strike him ; strike him the promised blow — the one from which the English power in France would not rise up in a thousand years, as Joan had said in her trance.

The enemy had plunged into the wide plains of La Beauce — a roadless waste covered with bushes, with here and there bodies of forest trees — a region where an army would be hidden from view in a very little while. We found the trail in the soft wet earth and followed it. It indicated an orderly march ; no confusion, no panic.

But we had to be cautious. In such a piece of country we could walk into an ambush without any trouble. Therefore Joan sent bodies of cavalry ahead under La Hire, Poton, and other captains, to feel the way. Some of the other officers began to show uneasiness ; this sort of hide-and-go-seek business troubled them and made their confidence a little shaky. Joan divined their state of mind and cried out impetuously —

Name of God, what would you ? We must smite these English, and we will. They shall not escape us. Though they were hung to the clouds we would get them !

By-and-by we were nearing Patay ; it was about a league away. Now at this time our reconnaissance, feeling its way in the bush, frightened a deer, and it went bounding away and was out of sight in a moment. Then hardly a minute later a dull great shout went up in the distance toward Patay. It 251was the English soldiery. They had been shut up in garrison so long on mouldy food that they could not keep their delight to themselves when this fine fresh meat came springing into their midst. Poor creature, it had wrought damage to a nation which loved it well. For the French knew where the English were, now, whereas the English had no suspicion of where the French were.

La Hire halted where he was, and sent back the tidings. Joan was radiant with joy. The Duke d’Alençon said to her —

Very well, we have found them ; shall we fight them ?

Have you good spurs, Prince ?

Why ? Will they make us run away ?

Nenni, en nom de Dieu ! These English are ours — they are lost. They will fly. Who overtakes them will need good spurs. Forward — close up !

By the time we had come up with La Hire the English had discovered our presence. Talbot’s force was marching in three bodies. First his advance-guard ; then his artillery ; then his battle corps a good way in the rear. He was now out of the bush and in a fair open country. He at once posted his artillery, his advance-guard, and five hundred picked archers along some hedges where the French would be obliged to pass, and hoped to hold this position till his battle corps could come up. Sir John Fastolfe urged the battle corps into a gallop. Joan saw her opportunity and ordered La Hire to advance — which La Hire promptly did, launching his wild riders like a storm-wind, his customary fashion.

The Duke and the Bastard wanted to follow, but Joan said —

Not yet — wait.

So they waited — impatiently, and fidgeting in their saddles. But she was steady — gazing straight before her, measuring, weighing, calculating — by shades, minutes, fractions of minutes, seconds — with all her great soul present, in eye, and set of head, and noble pose of body — but patient, steady, master of herself — master of herself and of the situation.

252And yonder, receding, receding, plumes lifting and falling, lifting and falling, streamed the thundering charge of La Hire’s godless crew, La Hire’s great figure dominating it and his sword stretched aloft like a flag-staff.

O Satan and his Hellions, see them go ! Somebody muttered it in deep admiration.

And now he was closing up, closing up on Fastolfe’s rushing corps.

And now he struck it — struck it hard, and broke its order. It lifted the Duke and the Bastard in their saddles to see it ; and they turned, trembling with excitement, to Joan, saying —

Now !

But she put up her hand, still gazing, weighing, calculating, and said again —

Wait — not yet.

Fastolfe’s hard-driven battle corps raged on like an avalanche toward the waiting advance-guard. Suddenly these conceived the idea that it was flying in panic before Joan ; and so in that instant it broke and swarmed away in a mad panic itself, with Talbot storming and cursing after it.

Now was the golden time. Joan drove her spurs home and waved the advance with her sword. Follow me ! she cried, and bent her head to her horse’s neck and sped away like the wind !

We swept down into the confusion of that flying rout, and for three long hours we cut and hacked and stabbed. At last the bugles sang Halt !

The Battle of Patay was won.

Joan of Arc dismounted, and stood surveying that awful field, lost in thought. Presently she said —

The praise is to God. He has smitten with a heavy hand this day. After a little she lifted her face, and looking afar off, said, with the manner of one who is thinking aloud, In a thousand years — a thousand years — the English power in France will not rise up from this blow. She stood again a time, thinking, then she turned toward her grouped generals, 253and there was a glory in her face and a noble light in her eye ; and she said —

O friends, friends, do you know ? — do you comprehend ? France is on the way to be free !

And had never been, but for Joan of Arc ! said La Hire, passing before her and bowing low, the others following and doing likewise ; he muttering as he went, I will say it though I be damned for it. Then battalion after battalion of our victorious army swung by, wildly cheering. And they shouted Live forever, Maid of Orleans, live forever ! while Joan, smiling, stood at the salute with her sword.

This was not the last time I saw the Maid of Orleans on the red field of Patay. Toward the end of the day I came upon her where the dead and dying lay stretched all about in heaps and winrows ; our men had mortally wounded an English prisoner who was too poor to pay a ransom, and from a distance she had seen that cruel thing done ; and had galloped to the place and sent for a priest, and now she was holding the head of her dying enemy in her lap, and easing him to his death with comforting soft words, just as his sister might have done ; and the womanly tears running down her face all the time.3

254Chapter 31

France Begins to Live Again

Joan had said true : France was on the way to be free.

The war called the Hundred Years’ War was very sick to-day. Sick on its English side — for the very first time since its birth, ninety-one years gone by.

Shall we judge battles by the numbers killed and the ruin wrought ? Or shall we not rather judge them by the results which flowed from them ? Any one will say that a battle is only truly great or small according to its results. Yes, any one will grant that, for it is the truth.

Judged by results, Patay’s place is with the few supremely great and imposing battles that have been fought since the peoples of the world first resorted to arms for the settlement of their quarrels. So judged, it is even possible that Patay has no peer among that few just mentioned, but stands alone, as the supremest of historic conflicts. For when it began France lay gasping out the remnant of an exhausted life, her case wholly hopeless in the view of all political physicians ; when it ended, three hours later, she was convalescent. Convalescent, and nothing requisite but time and ordinary nursing to bring her back to perfect health. The dullest physician of them all could see this, and there was none to deny it.

Many death-sick nations have reached convalescence through a series of battles, a procession of battles, a weary tale of wasting conflicts stretching over years ; but only one has reached it in a single day and by a single battle. That nation is France, and that battle Patay.

Remember it and be proud of it ; for you are French, and it is the stateliest fact in the long annals of your country. There it stands, with its head in the clouds ! And when you 255grow up you will go on pilgrimage to the field of Patay, and stand uncovered in the presence of — what ? A monument with its head in the clouds ? Yes. For all nations in all times have built monuments on their battle-fields to keep green the memory of the perishable deed that was wrought there and of the perishable name of him who wrought it ; and will France neglect Patay and Joan of Arc ? Not for long. And will she build a monument scaled to their rank as compared with the world’s other fields and heroes ? Perhaps — if there be room for it under the arch of the sky.

But let us look back a little, and consider certain strange and impressive facts. The Hundred Years’ War began in 1337. It raged on and on, year after year and year after year ; and at last England stretched France prone with that fearful blow at Crécy. But she rose and struggled on, year after year, and at last again she went down under another devastating blow — Poitiers. She gathered her crippled strength once more, and the war raged on, and on, and still on, year after year, decade after decade. Children were born, grew up, married, died — the war raged on ; their children in turn grew up, married, died — the war raged on ; their children, growing, saw France struck down again ; this time under the incredible disaster of Agincourt — and still the war raged on, year after year, and in time these children married in their turn.

France was a wreck, a ruin, a desolation. The half of it belonged to England, with none to dispute or deny the truth ; the other half belonged to nobody — in three months would be flying the English flag : the French King was making ready to throw away his crown and flee beyond the seas.

Now came the ignorant country maid out of her remote village and confronted this hoary war, this all-consuming conflagration that had swept the land for three generations. Then began the briefest and most amazing campaign that is recorded in history. In seven weeks it was finished. In seven weeks she hopelessly crippled that gigantic war that was ninety-one years old. At Orleans she struck it a staggering blow ; on the field of Patay she broke its back.

256Think of it. Yes, one can do that ; but understand it ? Ah, that is another matter ; none will ever be able to comprehend that stupefying marvel.

Seven weeks — with here and there a little bloodshed. Perhaps the most of it, in any single fight, at Patay, where the English began six thousand strong and left two thousand dead upon the field. It is said and believed that in three battles alone — Crécy, Poitiers, and Agincourt — near a hundred thousand Frenchmen fell, without counting the thousand other fights of that long war. The dead of that war make a mournful long list — an interminable list. Of men slain in the field the count goes by tens of thousands ; of innocent women and children slain by bitter hardship and hunger, it goes by that appalling term, millions.

It was an ogre, that war ; an ogre that went about for near a hundred years, crunching men and dripping blood from his jaws. And with her little hand that child of seventeen struck him down ; and yonder he lies stretched on the field of Patay, and will not get up any more while this old world lasts.

257Chapter 32

The Joyous News Flies Fast

The great news of Patay was carried over the whole of France in twenty hours, people said. I do not know as to that ; but one thing is sure, anyway : the moment a man got it he flew shouting and glorifying God and told his neighbor ; and that neighbor flew with it to the next homestead ; and so on and so on without resting the word travelled ; and when a man got it in the night, at what hour soever, he jumped out of his bed and bore the blessed message along. And the joy that went with it was like the light that flows across the land when an eclipse is receding from the face of the sun ; and indeed you may say that France had lain in an eclipse this long time ; yes buried in a black gloom which these beneficent tidings were sweeping away, now, before the onrush of their white splendor.

The news beat the flying enemy to Yeuville, and the town rose against its English masters and shut the gates against their brethren. It flew to Mont Pipeau, to Saint-Simon, and to this, that, and the other English fortress ; and straightway the garrison applied the torch and took to the fields and the woods. A detachment of our army occupied Meung and pillaged it.

When we reached Orleans that town was as much as fifty times insaner with joy than we had ever seen it before — which is saying much. Night had just fallen, and the illuminations were on so wonderful a scale that we seemed to plough through seas of fire ; and as to the noise — the hoarse cheering of the multitude, the thundering of cannon, the clash of bells — indeed there was never anything like it. And everywhere rose a new cry that burst upon us like a storm 258when the column entered the gates, and nevermore ceased : Welcome to Joan of Arc — way for the Savior of France ! And there was another cry : Crécy is avenged ! Poitiers is avenged ! Agincourt is avenged ! — Patay shall live forever !

Mad ? Why, you never could imagine it in this world. The prisoners were in the centre of the column. When that came along and the people caught sight of their masterful old enemy Talbot, that had made them dance so long to his grim war-music, you may imagine what the uproar was like if you can, for I cannot describe it. They were so glad to see him that presently they wanted to have him out and hang him ; so Joan had him brought up to the front to ride in her protection. They made a striking pair.

259Chapter 33

Joan’s Five Great Deeds

Yes, Orleans was in a delirium of felicity. She invited the King, and made sumptuous preparations to receive him, but — he didn’t come. He was simply a serf at that time, and La Tremouille was his master. Master and serf were visiting together at the master’s castle of Sully-sur-Loire.

At Beaugency Joan had engaged to bring about a reconciliation between the Constable Richemont and the King. She took Richemont to Sully-sur-Loire and made her promise good.

The great deeds of Joan of Arc are five :

1. The Raising of the Siege.
2. The Victory of Patay.
3. The Reconciliation at Sully-sur-Loire.
4. The Coronation of the King.
5. The Bloodless March.

We shall come to the Bloodless March presently (and the Coronation). It was the victorious long march which Joan made through the enemy’s country from Gien to Rheims, and thence to the gates of Paris, capturing every English town and fortress that barred the road, from the beginning of the journey to the end of it, and this by the mere force of her name, and without shedding a drop of blood — perhaps the most extraordinary campaign in this regard in history — this is the most glorious of her military exploits.

The Reconciliation was one of Joan’s most important achievements. No one else could have accomplished it ; and in fact no one else of high consequence had any disposition to try. In brains, in scientific warfare, and in statesmanship the Constable Richemont was the ablest man in France. His 260loyalty was sincere ; his probity was above suspicion — (and it made him sufficiently conspicuous in that trivial and conscienceless Court).

In restoring Richemont to France, Joan made thoroughly secure the successful completion of the great work which she had begun. She had never seen Richemont until he came to her with his little army. Was it not wonderful that at a glance she should know him for the one man who could finish and perfect her work and establish it in perpetuity ? How was it that that child was able to do this ? It was because she had the seeing eye, as one of our knights had once said. Yes, she had that great gift — almost the highest and rarest that has been granted to man. Nothing of an extraordinary sort was still to be done, yet the remaining work could not safely be left to the King’s idiots ; for it would require wise statesmanship and long and patient though desultory hammering of the enemy. Now and then, for a quarter of a century yet, there would be a little fighting to do, and a handy man could carry that on with small disturbance to the rest of the country ; and little by little, and with progressive certainty, the English would disappear from France.

And that happened. Under the influence of Richemont the King became at a later time a man — a man, a king, a brave and capable and determined soldier. Within six years after Patay he was leading storming parties himself ; fighting in fortress ditches up to his waist in water, and climbing scaling-ladders under a furious fire with a pluck that would have satisfied even Joan of Arc. In time he and Richemont cleared away all the English ; even from regions where the people had been under their mastership for three hundred years. In such regions wise and careful work was necessary, for the English rule had been fair and kindly ; and men who have been ruled in that way are not always anxious for a change.

Which of Joan’s five chief deeds shall we call chiefest ? It is my thought that each in its turn was that. This is saying that, taken as a whole, they equalized each other, and neither was then greater than its mate.

261Do you perceive ? Each was a stage in an ascent. To leave out one of them would defeat the journey ; to achieve one of them at the wrong time and in the wrong place would have the same effect.

Consider the Coronation. As a masterpiece of diplomacy, where can you find its superior in our history ? Did the King suspect its vast importance ? No. Did his ministers ? No. Did the astute Bedford, representative of the English crown ? No. An advantage of incalculable importance was here under the eyes of the King and of Bedford ; the King could get it by a bold stroke, Bedford could get it without an effort ; but being ignorant of its value, neither of them put forth his hand. Of all the wise people in high office in France, only one knew the priceless worth of this neglected prize — the untaught child of seventeen, Joan of Arc — and she had known it from the beginning, had spoken of it from the beginning as an essential detail of her mission.

How did she know it ? It is simple : she was a peasant. That tells the whole story. She was of the people and knew the people ; those others moved in a loftier sphere and knew nothing much about them. We make little account of that vague, formless, inert mass, that mighty underlying force which we call the people — an epithet which carries contempt with it. It is a strange attitude ; for at bottom we know that the throne which the people support, stands, and that when that support is removed, nothing in this world can save it.

Now, then, consider this fact, and observe its importance. Whatever the parish priest believes, his flock believes ; they love him, they revere him ; he is their unfailing friend, their dauntless protector, their comforter in sorrow, their helper in their day of need ; he has their whole confidence ; what he tells them to do, that they will do, with a blind and affectionate obedience, let it cost what it may. Add these facts thoughtfully together, and what is the sum ? This : The parish priest governs the nation. What is the King, then, if the parish priest withdraw his support and deny his authority ? Merely a shadow and no King ; let him resign.

262Do you get that idea ? Then let us proceed. A priest is consecrated to his office by the awful hand of God, laid upon him by his appointed representative on earth. That consecration is final ; nothing can undo it, nothing can remove it. Neither the Pope nor any other power can strip the priest of his office ; God gave it, and it is forever sacred and secure. The dull parish knows all this. To priest and parish, whosoever is anointed of God bears an office whose authority can no longer be disputed or assailed. To the parish priest, and to his subjects the nation, an uncrowned king is a similitude of a person who has been named for holy orders but has not been consecrated ; he has no office, he has not been ordained, another may be appointed in his place. In a word, an uncrowned king is a doubtful king ; but if God appoint him and His servant the Bishop anoint him, the doubt is annihilated, the priest and the parish are his loyal subjects straightway, and while he lives they will recognize no king but him.

To Joan of Arc the peasant girl, Charles VII was no King until he was crowned ; to her he was only the Dauphin ; that is to say, the heir. If I have ever made her call him King, it was a mistake ; she called him the Dauphin, and nothing else until after the Coronation. It shows you as in a mirror — for Joan was a mirror in which the lowly hosts of France were clearly reflected — that to all that vast underlying force called the people he was no King but only Dauphin before his crowning, and was indisputably and irrevocably King after it.

Now you understand what a colossal move on the political chess-board the Coronation was. Bedford realized this by-and-by, and tried to patch up his mistake by crowning his King ; but what good could that do ? None in the world.

Speaking of chess, Joan’s great acts may be likened to that game. Each move was made in its proper order, and it was great and effective because it was made in its proper order and not out of it. Each, at the time made, seemed the greatest move ; but the final result made them all recognizable as equally essential and equally important. This is the game, as played :

2631. Joan moves Orleans and Patay — check.

2. Then moves the Reconciliation — but does not proclaim check, it being a move for position, and to take effect later.

3. Next she moves the Coronation — check.

4. Next, the Bloodless March — check.

5. Final move (after her death) the reconciled Constable Richemont to the French King’s elbow — checkmate.

264Chapter 34

The Jests of the Burgundians

The Campaign of the Loire had as good as opened the road to Rheims. There was no sufficient reason now why the Coronation should not take place. The Coronation would complete the mission which Joan had received from heaven, and then she would be forever done with war, and would fly home to her mother and her sheep, and never stir from the hearthstone and happiness any more. That was her dream ; and she could not rest, she was so impatient to see it fulfilled. She became so possessed with this matter that I began to lose faith in her two prophecies of her early death — and of course when I found that faith wavering I encouraged it to waver all the more.

The King was afraid to start to Rheims, because the road was mile-posted with English fortresses, so to speak. Joan held them in light esteem and not things to be afraid of in the existing modified condition of English confidence.

And she was right. As it turned out, the march to Rheims was nothing but a holiday excursion. Joan did not even take any artillery along, she was so sure it would not be necessary. We marched from Gien twelve thousand strong. This was the 29th of June. The Maid rode by the side of the King ; on his other side was the Duke d’Alençon. After the Duke followed three other princes of the blood. After these followed the Bastard of Orleans, the Marshal de Boussac, and the Admiral of France. After these came La Hire, Saintrailles, Tremouille, and a long procession of knights and nobles.

We rested three days before Auxerre. The city provisioned the army, and a deputation waited upon the King, but we did not enter the place.

265Saint-Florentin opened its gates to the King.

On the 4th of July we reached Saint-Fal, and yonder lay Troyes before us — a town which had a burning interest for us boys ; for we remembered how, seven years before, in the pastures of Domremy, the Sunflower came with his black flag and brought us the shameful news of the Treaty of Troyes — that treaty which gave France to England, and a daughter of our royal line in marriage to the Butcher of Agincourt. That poor town was not to blame, of course ; yet we flushed hot with that old memory, and hoped there would be a misunderstanding here, for we dearly wanted to storm the place and burn it. It was powerfully garrisoned by English and Burgundian soldiery, and was expecting re-enforcements from Paris. Before night we camped before its gates and made rough work with a sortie which marched out against us.

Joan summoned Troyes to surrender. Its commandant, seeing that she had no artillery, scoffed at the idea, and sent her a grossly insulting reply. Five days we consulted and negotiated. No result. The King was about to turn back now, and give up. He was afraid to go on, leaving this strong place in his rear. Then La Hire put in a word, with a slap in it for some of his Majesty’s advisers —

The Maid of Orleans undertook this expedition of her own motion ; and it is my mind that it is her judgment that should be followed here, and not that of any other, let him be of whatsoever breed and standing he may.

There was wisdom and righteousness in that. So the King sent for the Maid, and asked her how she thought the prospect looked. She said, without any tone of doubt or question in her voice —

In three days’ time the place is ours.

The smug Chancellor put in a word now —

If we were sure of it we would wait here six days.

Six days, forsooth ! Name of God, man, we will enter the gates to-morrow !

Then she mounted, and rode her lines, crying out —

266Make preparation — to your work, friends, to your work ! We assault at dawn !

She worked hard that night ; slaving away with her own hands like a common soldier. She ordered fascines and fagots to be prepared and thrown into the fosse, thereby to bridge it ; and in this rough labor she took a man’s share.

At dawn she took her place at the head of the storming force and the bugles blew the assault. At that moment a flag of truce was flung to the breeze from the walls, and Troyes surrendered without firing a shot.

The next day the King with Joan at his side and the Paladin bearing her banner entered the town in state at the head of the army. And a goodly army it was, now, for it had been growing ever bigger and bigger from the first.

And now a curious thing happened. By the terms of the treaty made with the town, the garrison of English and Burgundian soldiery were to be allowed to carry away their goods with them. This was well, for otherwise how would they buy the wherewithal to live ? Very well ; these people were all to go out by the one gate, and at the time set for them to depart we young fellows went to that gate, along with the Dwarf, to see the march-out. Presently here they came in an interminable file, the foot-soldiers in the lead. As they approached one could see that each bore a burden of a bulk and weight to sorely tax his strength ; and we said among ourselves, truly these folk are well off for poor common soldiers. When they were come nearer, what do you think ? Every rascal of them had a French prisoner on his back ! They were carrying away their goods, you see — their property — strictly according to the permission granted by the treaty.

Now think how clever that was, how ingenious. What could a body say ? what could a body do ? For certainly these people were within their right. These prisoners were property ; nobody could deny that. My dears, if those had been English captives, conceive of the richness of that booty ! For English prisoners had been scarce and precious for a 267hundred years ; whereas it was a different matter with French prisoners. They had been over-abundant for a century. The possessor of a French prisoner did not hold him long for ransom, as a rule, but presently killed him to save the cost of his keep. This shows you how small was the value of such a possession in those times. When we took Troyes a calf was worth thirty francs, a sheep sixteen, a French prisoner eight. It was an enormous price for those other animals — a price which naturally seems incredible to you. It was the war, you see. It worked two ways : it made meat dear and prisoners cheap.

Well, here were these poor Frenchmen being carried off. What could we do ? Very little of a permanent sort, but we did what we could. We sent a messenger flying to Joan, and we and the French guards halted the procession for a parley — to gain time, you see. A big Burgundian lost his temper and swore a great oath that none should stop him ; he would go, and would take his prisoner with him. But we blocked him off, and he saw that he was mistaken about going — he couldn’t do it. He exploded into the maddest cursings and revilings, then, and unlashing his prisoner from his back, stood him up, all bound and helpless ; then drew his knife, and said to us with a light of sarcastic triumph in his eye —

I may not carry him away, you say — yet he is mine, none will dispute it. Since I may not convey him hence, this property of mine, there is another way. Yes, I can kill him ; not even the dullest among you will question that right. Ah, you had not thought of that — vermin !

That poor starved fellow begged us with his piteous eyes to save him ; then spoke, and said he had a wife and little children at home. Think how it wrung our heartstrings. But what could we do ? The Burgundian was within his right. We could only beg and plead for the prisoner. Which we did. And the Burgundian enjoyed it. He stayed his hand to hear more of it, and laugh at it. That stung. Then the Dwarf said —

Prithee, young sirs, let me beguile him ; for when a matter 268requiring persuasion is to the fore, I have indeed a gift in that sort, as any will tell you that know me well. You smile ; and that is punishment for my vanity, and fairly earned, I grant it you. Still, if I may toy a little, just a little - saying which he stepped to the Burgundian and began a fair soft speech, all of goodly and gentle tenor ; and in the midst he mentioned the Maid ; and was going on to say how she out of her good heart would prize and praise this compassionate deed which he was about to —

It was as far as he got. The Burgundian burst into his smooth oration with an insult levelled at Joan of Arc. We sprang forward, but the Dwarf, his face all livid, brushed us aside and said, in a most grave and earnest way —

I crave your patience. Am not I her guard of honor ? This is my affair.

And saying this he suddenly shot his right hand out and gripped the great Burgundian by the throat, and so held him upright on his feet. You have insulted the Maid, he said ; and the Maid is France. The tongue that does that earns a long furlough.

One heard the muffled cracking of bones. The Burgundian’s eyes began to protrude from their sockets and stare with a leaden dullness at vacancy. The color deepened in his face and became an opaque purple. His hands hung down limp, his body collapsed with a shiver, every muscle relaxed its tension and ceased from its function. The Dwarf took away his hand and the column of inert mortality sank mushily to the ground.

We struck the bonds from the prisoner and told him he was free. His crawling humbleness changed to frantic joy in a moment, and his ghastly fear to a childish rage. He flew at that dead corpse and kicked it, spat in its face ; danced upon it, crammed mud into its mouth, laughing, jeering, cursing and volleying forth indecencies and bestialities like a drunken fiend. It was a thing to be expected : soldiering makes few saints. Many of the onlookers laughed, others were indifferent, none was surprised. But presently 269in his mad caperings the freed man capered within reach of the waiting file, and another Burgundian promptly slipped a knife through his neck, and down he went with a death-shriek, his brilliant artery-blood spurting ten feet as straight and bright as a ray of light. There was a great burst of jolly laughter all around from friend and foe alike ; and thus closed one of the pleasantest incidents of my chequered military life.

And now came Joan hurrying and deeply troubled. She considered the claim of the garrison, then said —

You have right upon your side. It is plain. It was a careless word to put in the treaty, and covers too much. But ye may not take these poor men away. They are French, and I will not have it. The King shall ransom them, every one. Wait till I send you word from him ; and hurt no hair of their heads ; for I tell you, I who speak, that that would cost you very dear.

That settled it. The prisoners were safe for one while, anyway. Then she rode back eagerly and required that thing of the King, and would listen to no paltering and no excuses. So the King told her to have her way, and she rode straight back and bought the captives free in his name and let them go.

270Chapter 35

The Heir of France is Crowned

It was here that we saw again the Grand Master of the King’s Household, in whose castle Joan was guest when she tarried at Chinon in those first days of her coming out of her own country. She made him Bailiff of Troyes, now, by the King’s permission.

And now we marched again ; Châlons surrendered to us ; and there by Châlons in a talk, Joan being asked if she had no fears for the future, said yes, one — treachery. Who could believe it ? who could dream it ? And yet in a sense it was prophecy. Truly man is a pitiful animal.

We marched, marched, kept on marching ; and at last on the 16th of July we came in sight of our goal, and saw the great cathedral towers of Rheims rise out of the distance ! Huzzah after huzzah swept the army from van to rear ; and as for Joan of Arc, there where she sat her horse gazing, clothed all in white armor, dreamy, beautiful, and in her face a deep, deep joy, a joy not of earth, oh, she was not flesh, she was a spirit ! Her sublime mission was closing — closing in flawless triumph. To-morrow she could say, It is finished — let me go free.

We camped, and the hurry and rush and turmoil of the grand preparations began. The Archbishop and a great deputation arrived ; and after these came flock after flock, crowd after crowd, of citizens and country folk hurrahing in, with banners and music, and flowed over the camp, one rejoicing inundation after another, everybody drunk with happiness. And all night long Rheims was hard at work, hammering away, decorating the town, building triumphal arches, and clothing the ancient cathedral within and without in a glory of opulent splendors.

271We moved betimes in the morning : the coronation ceremonies would begin at nine and last five hours. We were aware that the garrison of English and Burgundian soldiers had given up all thought of resisting the Maid, and that we should find the gates standing hospitably open and the whole city ready to welcome us with enthusiasm.

It was a delicious morning, brilliant with sunshine, but cool and fresh and inspiring. The army was in great form, and fine to see, as it uncoiled from its lair fold by fold, and stretched away on the final march of the peaceful Coronation Campaign.

Joan, on her black horse, with the Lieutenant-General and the personal staff grouped about her, took post for a final review and a good-bye ; for she was not expecting to ever be a soldier again or ever serve with these or any other soldiers any more after this day. The army knew this, and believed it was looking for the last time upon the girlish face of its invincible little Chief, its pet, its pride, its darling, whom it had ennobled in its private heart with nobilities of its own creation, calling her Daughter of God, Savior of France, Victory’s Sweetheart, the Page of Christ, together with still softer titles which were simply naïf and frank endearments such as men are used to confer upon children whom they love. And so one saw a new thing now ; a thing bred of the emotion that was present there on both sides. Always before, in the march-past, the battalions had gone swinging by in a storm of cheers, heads up and eyes flashing, the drums rolling, the bands braying pæans of victory ; but now there was nothing of that. But for one impressive sound, one could have closed his eyes and imagined himself in a world of the dead. That one sound was all that visited the ear in the summer stillness — just that one sound — the muffled tread of the marching host. As the serried masses drifted by, the men put their right hands up to their temples, palms to the front, in military salute, turning their eyes upon Joan’s face in mute God-bless-you and farewell, and keeping them there while they could. They still kept their hands up in reverent salute many steps after they had passed by. Every time Joan put her handkerchief to her eyes you could see a little quiver of emotion crinkle along the faces of the files.

The march-past after a victory is a thing to drive the heart mad with jubilation ; but this one was a thing to break it.

We rode now to the King’s lodging, which was the Archbishop’s country palace ; and he was presently ready, and we galloped off and took position at the head of the army. By this time the country people were arriving in multitudes from every direction and massing themselves on both sides of the road to get sight of Joan — just as had been done every day since our first day’s march began.

Our march now lay through the grassy plain, and those peasants made a dividing double border for that plain. They stretched right down through it, a broad belt of bright colors on each side of the road ; for every peasant girl and woman in it had a white jacket on her body and a crimson skirt on the rest of her. Endless borders made of poppies and lilies stretching away in front of us — that is what it looked like. And that is the kind of lane we had been marching through all these days. Not a lane between multitudinous flowers standing upright on their stems — no, these flowers were always kneeling ; kneeling, these human flowers, with their hands and faces lifted toward Joan of Arc, and the grateful tears streaming down. And all along, those closest to the road hugged her feet and kissed them and laid their wet cheeks fondly against them. I never, during all those days, saw any of either sex stand while she passed, nor any man keep his head covered. Afterwards, in the Great Trial, these touching scenes were used as a weapon against her. She had been made an object of adoration by the people, and this was proof that she was a heretic — so claimed that unjust court.

As we drew near the city the curving long sweep of ramparts and towers was gay with fluttering flags and black with masses of people, and all the air was vibrant with the crash of artillery and gloomed with drifting clouds of smoke. We entered the gates in state and moved in procession through the city, with all the guilds and industries in holiday costume marching in our rear with their banners ; and all the route was hedged with a huzzahing crush of people, and all the windows were full and all the roofs ; and from the balconies hung costly stuffs of rich colors ; and the waving of handkerchiefs, seen in perspective through a long vista, was like a snow-storm.

Joan’s name had been introduced into the prayers of the Church — an honor theretofore restricted to royalty. But she had a dearer honor and an honor more to be proud of, from a humbler source : the common people had had leaden medals struck which bore her effigy and her escutcheon, and these they wore as charms. One saw them everywhere.

From the Archbishop’s Palace, where we halted, and where the King and Joan were to lodge, the King sent to the Abbey Church of St. Remi, which was over toward the gate by which we had entered the city, for the Sainte Ampoule, or flask of holy oil. This oil was not earthly oil ; it was made in heaven — the flask also. The flask, with the oil in it, was brought down from heaven by a dove. It was sent down to St. Remi just as he was going to baptize King Clovis, who had become a Christian. I know this to be true. I had known it long before, for Père Fronte told me in Domremy. I cannot tell you how strange and awful it made me feel when I saw that flask and knew I was looking with my own eyes upon a thing which had actually been in heaven ; a thing which had been seen by angels, perhaps — and by God Himself of a certainty, for He sent it. And I was looking upon it — I. At one time I could have touched it. But I was afraid ; for I could not know but that God had touched it. It is most probable that He had.

From this flask Clovis had been anointed ; and from it all the Kings of France had been anointed since. Yes, ever since the time of Clovis ; and that was nine hundred years. And so, as I have said, that flask of holy oil was sent for, while we waited. A coronation without that would not have been a coronation at all in my belief.

Now in order to get the flask, a most ancient ceremonial had to be gone through with ; otherwise the Abbé of St. Remi, hereditary guardian in perpetuity of the oil, would not deliver it. So, in accordance with custom, the King deputed five great nobles to ride in solemn state and richly armed and accoutred, they and their steeds, to the Abbey Church as a guard of honor to the Archbishop of Rheims and his canons, who were to bear the King’s demand for the oil. When the five great lords were ready to start, they knelt in a row and put up their mailed hands before their faces, palm joined to palm, and swore upon their lives to conduct the sacred vessel safely, and safely restore it again to the Church of St. Remi after the anointing of the King. The Archbishop and his subordinates, thus nobly escorted, took their way to St. Remi. The Archbishop was in grand costume, with his mitre on his head and his cross in his hand. At the door of St. Remi they halted and formed, to receive the holy phial. Soon one heard the deep tones of the organ and of chanting men ; then one saw a long file of lights approaching through the dim church. And so came the Abbot, in his sacerdotal panoply, bearing the phial, with his people following after. He delivered it, with solemn ceremonies, to the Archbishop ; then the march back began, and it was most impressive ; for it moved the whole way between two multitudes of men and women who lay flat upon their faces, and prayed in dumb silence and in dread while that awful thing went by that had been in heaven.

This august company arrived at the great west door of the cathedral ; and as the Archbishop entered a noble anthem rose and filled the vast building. The cathedral was packed with people — people in thousands. Only a wide space down the centre had been kept free. Down this space walked the Archbishop and his canons, and after them followed those five stately figures in splendid harness, each bearing his feudal banner — and riding !

Oh, that was a magnificent thing to see ! Riding down the cavernous vastness of the building through the rich lights streaming in long rays from the pictured windows — oh, there was never anything so grand !

They rode clear to the choir — as much as four hundred feet from the door, it was said. Then the Archbishop dismissed them, and they made deep obeisance till their plumes touched their horses’ necks, then made those proud prancing and mincing and dancing creatures go backwards all the way to the door — which was pretty to see, and graceful ; then they stood them on their hind-feet and spun them around and plunged away and disappeared.

For some minutes there was a deep hush, a waiting pause ; a silence so profound that it was as if all those packed thousands there were steeped in dreamless slumber — why, you could even notice the faintest sounds, like the drowsy buzzing of insects ; then came a mighty flood of rich strains from four hundred silver trumpets, and then, framed in the pointed archway of the great west door, appeared Joan and the King. They advanced slowly, side by side, through a tempest of welcome — explosion after explosion of cheers and cries, mingled with the deep thunders of the organ and rolling tides of triumphant song from chanting choirs. Behind Joan and the King came the Paladin with the Banner displayed ; and a majestic figure he was, and most proud and lofty in his bearing, for he knew that the people were marking him and taking note of the gorgeous state dress which covered his armor.

At his side was the Sire d’Albret, proxy for the Constable of France, bearing the Sword of State.

After these, in order of rank, came a body royally attired representing the lay peers of France ; it consisted of three princes of the blood, and La Tremouille and the young De Laval brothers.

These were followed by the representatives of the ecclesiastical peers — the Archbishop of Rheims, and the Bishops of Laon, Châlons, Orleans, and one other.

Behind these came the Grand Staff, all our great generals and famous names, and everybody was eager to get a sight of them. Through all the din one could hear shouts, all along, 276that told you where two of them were : Live the Bastard of Orleans !’ Satan La Hire forever !

The august procession reached its appointed place in time, and the solemnities of the Coronation began. They were long and imposing — with prayers, and anthems, and sermons, and everything that is right for such occasions ; and Joan was at the King’s side all these hours, with her Standard in her hand. But at last came the grand act : the King took the oath, he was anointed with the sacred oil ; a splendid personage, followed by train-bearers and other attendants, approached, bearing the Crown of France upon a cushion, and kneeling offered it. The King seemed to hesitate — in fact, did hesitate ; for he put out his hand and then stopped with it there in the air over the crown, the fingers in the attitude of taking hold of it. But that was for only a moment — though a moment is a notable something when it stops the heart-beat of twenty thousand people and makes them catch their breath. Yes, only a moment ; then he caught Joan’s eye, and she gave him a look with all the joy of her thankful great soul in it, then he smiled, and took the Crown of France in his hand, and right finely and right royally lifted it up and set it upon his head.

Then what a crash there was ! All about us cries and cheers, and the chanting of the choirs and groaning of the organ ; and outside the clamoring of the bells and the booming of the cannon.

The fantastic dream, the incredible dream, the impossible dream of the peasant child stood fulfilled : the English power was broken, the Heir of France was crowned.

She was like one transfigured, so divine was the joy that shone in her face as she sank to her knees at the King’s feet and looked up at him through her tears. Her lips were quivering, and her words came soft and low and broken —

Now, O gentle King, is the pleasure of God accomplished according to His command that you should come to Rheims and receive the crown that belongeth of right to you, and unto none other. My work which was given me to do is finished ; 277give me your peace, and let me go back to my mother, who is poor and old, and has need of me.

The King raised her up, and there before all that host he praised her great deeds in most noble terms ; and there he confirmed her nobility and titles, making her the equal of a count in rank, and also appointed a household and officers for her according to her dignity ; and then he said —

You have saved the crown. Speak — require — demand ; and whatsoever grace you ask it shall be granted, though it make the kingdom poor to meet it.

Now that was fine, that was royal. Joan was on her knees again straightway, and said —

Then, O gentle King, if out of your compassion you will speak the word, I pray you give commandment that my village, poor and hard pressed by reason of war, may have its taxes remitted.

It is so commanded. Say on.

That is all.

All ? Nothing but that ?

It is all. I have no other desire.

But that is nothing — less than nothing. Ask — do not be afraid.

Indeed I cannot, gentle King. Do not press me. I will not have aught else, but only this alone.

The King seemed nonplussed, and stood still a moment, as if trying to comprehend and realize the full stature of this strange unselfishness. Then he raised his head and said —

She has won a kingdom and crowned its King : and all she asks and all she will take is this poor grace — and even this is for others, not for herself. And it is well ; her act being proportioned to the dignity of one who carries in her head and heart riches which outvalue any that any King could add, though he gave his all. She shall have her way. Now therefore it is decreed that from this day forth Domremy, natal village of Joan of Arc, Deliverer of France, called the Maid of Orleans, is freed from all taxation forever. Whereat the silver horns blew a jubilant blast.

278There, you see, she had had a vision of this very scene the time she was in a trance in the pastures of Domremy, and we asked her to name the boon she would demand of the King if he should ever chance to tell her she might claim one. But whether she had the vision or not, this act showed that after all the dizzy grandeurs that had come upon her, she was still the same simple unselfish creature that she was that day.

Yes, Charles VII remitted those taxes forever. Often the gratitude of kings and nations fades and their promises are forgotten or deliberately violated ; but you, who are children of France, should remember with pride that France has kept this one faithfully. Sixty-three years have gone by since that day. The taxes of the region wherein Domremy lies have been collected sixty-three times since then, and all the villages of that region have paid except that one — Domremy. The tax-gatherer never visits Domremy. Domremy has long ago forgotten what that dreaded sorrow-sowing apparition is like. Sixty-three tax-books have been filled meantime, and they lie yonder with the other public records, and any may see them that desire it. At the top of every page in the sixty-three books stands the name of a village, and below that name its weary burden of taxation is figured out and displayed ; in the case of all save one. It is true, just as I tell you. In each of the sixty-three books there is a page headed Domremy, but under that name not a figure appears. Where the figures should be, there are three words written ; and the same words have been written every year for all these years ; yes, it is a blank page, with always those grateful words lettered across the face of it — a touching memorial. Thus :

Domremi

Rien — La Pucelle

279Nothing — The Maid of Orleans. How brief it is ; yet how much it says ! It is the nation speaking. You have the spectacle of that unsentimental thing, a Government, making reverence to that name and saying to its agent, Uncover and pass on ; it is France that commands. Yes, the promise has been kept ; it will be kept always ; forever was the King’s words.4

At two o’clock in the afternoon the ceremonies of the Coronation came at last to an end ; then the procession formed once more, with Joan and the King at its head, and took up its solemn march through the midst of the church, all instruments and all people making such clamor of rejoicing noises as was indeed a marvel to hear. And so ended the third of the great days of Joan’s life. And how close together they stand — May 8th, June 18th, July 17th !

280Chapter 36

Joan Hears News from Home

We mounted and rode, a spectacle to remember, a most noble display of rich vestments and nodding plumes, and as we moved between the banked multitudes they sank down all along abreast of us as we advanced, like grain before the reaper, and kneeling hailed with a rousing welcome the consecrated King and his companion the Deliverer of France. But by-and-by when we had paraded about the chief parts of the city and were come near to the end of our course, we being now approaching the Archbishop’s palace, one saw on the right, hard by the inn that is called the Zebra, a strange thing — two men not kneeling but standing ! Standing in the front rank of the kneelers ; unconscious, transfixed, staring. Yes, and clothed in the coarse garb of the peasantry, these two. Two halberdiers sprang at them in a fury to teach them better manners ; but just as they seized them Joan cried out Forebear ! and slid from her saddle and flung her arms about one of those peasants, calling him by all manner of endearing names, and sobbing. For it was her father ; and the other was her uncle Laxart.

The news flew everywhere, and shouts of welcome were raised, and in just one little moment those two despised and unknown plebeians were become famous and popular and envied, and everybody was in a fever to get sight of them and be able to say, all their lives long, that they had seen the father of Joan of Arc and the brother of her mother. How easy it was for her to do miracles like to this ! She was like the sun ; on whatsoever dim and humble object her rays fell, that thing was straightway drowned in glory.

All graciously the King said —

281Bring them to me.

And she brought them ; she radiant with happiness and affection, they trembling and scared, with their caps in their shaking hands ; and there before all the world the King gave them his hand to kiss, while the people gazed in envy and admiration ; and he said to old D’Arc —

Give God thanks for that you are father to this child, this dispenser of immortalities. You who bear a name that will still live in the mouths of men when all the race of kings has been forgotten, it is not meet that you bare your head before the fleeting fames and dignities of a day — cover yourself ! And truly he looked right fine and princely when he said that. Then he gave order that the Bailly of Rheims be brought ; and when he was come, and stood bent low and bare, the King said to him, These two are guests of France ; and bade him use them hospitably.

I may as well say now as later, that Papa D’Arc and Laxart were stopping in that little Zebra inn, and that there they remained. Finer quarters were offered them by the Bailly, also public distinctions and brave entertainment ; but they were frightened at these projects, they being only humble and ignorant peasants : so they begged off, and had peace. They could not have enjoyed such things. Poor souls, they did not even know what to do with their hands, and it took all their attention to keep from treading on them. The Bailly did the best he could in the circumstances. He made the innkeeper place a whole floor at their disposal, and told him to provide everything they might desire, and charge all to the city. Also the Bailly gave them a horse apiece, and furnishings ; which so overwhelmed them with pride and delight and astonishment that they couldn’t speak a word ; for in their lives they had never dreamed of wealth like this, and could not believe, at first, that the horses were real and would not dissolve to a mist and blow away. They could not unglue their minds from those grandeurs, and were always wrenching the conversation out of its groove and dragging the matter of animals into it, so that they could say my horse here 282and my horse there are yonder and all around, and taste the words and lick their chops over them, and spread their legs and hitch their thumbs in their armpits, and feel as the good God feels when He looks out on His fleets of constellations ploughing the awful deeps of space and reflects with satisfaction that they are His — all His. Well, they were the happiest old children one ever saw, and the simplest.

The city gave a grand banquet to the King and Joan in mid-afternoon, and to the Court and the Grand Staff ; and about the middle of it Père D’Arc and Laxart were sent for, but would not venture until it was promised that they might sit in a gallery and be all by themselves and see all that was to be seen and yet be unmolested. And so they sat there and looked down upon the splendid spectacle, and were moved till the tears ran down their cheeks to see the unbelievable honors that were paid to their small darling and how naïvely serene and unafraid she sat there with those consuming glories beating upon her.

But at last her serenity was broken up. Yes, it stood the strain of the King’s gracious speech, and of D’Alençon’s praiseful words, and the Bastard’s ; and even La Hire’s thunder-blast, which took the place by storm ; but at last, as I have said, they brought a force to bear which was too strong for her. For at the close the King put up his hand to command silence, and so waited, with his hand up, till every sound was dead and it was as if one could almost feel the stillness, so profound it was. Then out of some remote corner of that vast place there rose a plaintive voice, and in tones most tender and sweet and rich came floating through that enchanted hush our poor old simple song L’Arbre Fée de Bourlemont ! and then Joan broke down and put her face in her hands and cried. Yes, you see, all in a moment the pomps and grandeurs dissolved away, and she was a little child again herding her sheep with the tranquil pastures stretched about her, and war and wounds and blood and death and the mad frenzy and turmoil of battle a dream. Ah, that shows you the power of music, that magician of magicians ; 283who lifts his wand and says his mysterious word and all things real pass away and the phantoms of your mind walk before you clothed in flesh.

That was the King’s invention, that sweet and dear surprise. Indeed, he had fine things hidden away in his nature, though one seldom got a glimpse of them, with that scheming Tremouille and those others always standing in the light, and he so indolently content to save himself fuss and argument and let them have their way.

At the fall of night we the Domremy contingent of the personal staff were with the father and uncle at the inn, in their private parlor, brewing generous drinks and breaking ground for a homely talk about Domremy and the neighbors, when a large parcel arrived from Joan to be kept till she came ; and soon she came herself and sent her guard away, saying she would take one of her father’s rooms and sleep under his roof, and so be at home again. We of the staff rose and stood, as was meet, until she made us sit. Then she turned and saw that the two old men had gotten up too, and were standing in an embarrassed and unmilitary way ; which made her want to laugh, but she kept it in, as not wishing to hurt them ; and got them to their seats and snuggled down between them, and took a hand of each of them upon her knees and nestled her own hands in them and said —

Now we will have no more ceremony, but be kin and playmates as in other times ; for I am done with the great wars, now, and you two will take me home with you, and I shall see — She stopped, and for a moment her happy face sobered, as if a doubt or a presentiment had flitted through her mind ; then it cleared again, and she said, with a passionate yearning, Oh, if the day were but come and we could start !

The old father was surprised, and said —

Why, child, are you in earnest ? Would you leave doing these wonders that make you to be praised by everybody while there is still so much glory to be won ; and would you go out from this grand comradeship with princes and generals 284to be a drudging villager again and a nobody ? It is not rational.

No, said the uncle Laxart, it is amazing to hear, and indeed not understandable. It is a stranger thing to hear her say she will stop the soldiering than it was to hear her say she would begin it ; and I who speak to you can say in all truth that that was the strangest word that ever I had heard till this day and hour. I would it could be explained.

It is not difficult, said Joan. I was not ever fond of wounds and suffering, nor fitted by my nature to inflict them ; and quarrellings did always distress me, and noise and tumult were against my liking, my disposition being toward peace and quietness, and love for all things that have life ; and being made like this, how could I bear to think of wars and blood, and the pain that goes with them, and the sorrow and mourning that follow after ? But by his angels God laid His great commands upon me, and could I disobey ? I did as I was bid. Did He command me to do many things ? No ; only two : to raise the siege of Orleans, and crown the King at Rheims. The task is finished, and I am free. Has ever a poor soldier fallen in my sight, whether friend or foe, and I not felt his pain in my own body, and the grief of his home-mates in my own heart ? No, not one ; and, oh, it is such bliss to know that my release is won, and that I shall not any more see these cruel things or suffer these tortures of the mind again ! Then why should I not go to my village and be as I was before ? It is heaven ! and ye wonder that I desire it. Ah, ye are men — just men ! My mother would understand.

They didn’t quite know what to say ; so they sat still awhile, looking pretty vacant. Then old D’Arc said —

Yes, your mother — that is true. I never saw such a woman. She worries, and worries, and worries ; and wakes nights, and lies so, thinking — that is, worrying ; worrying about you. And when the night-storms go raging along, she moans and says, Ah, God pity her, she is out in this with her poor wet soldiers. And when the lightning glares and 285the thunder crashes she wrings her hands and trembles, saying, It is like the awful cannon and the flash, and yonder somewhere she is riding down upon the spouting guns and I not there to protect her.

Ah, poor mother, it is pity, it is pity !

Yes, a most strange woman, as I have noticed a many times. When there is news of a victory and all the village goes mad with pride and joy, she rushes here and there in a maniacal frenzy till she finds out the one only thing she cares to know — that you are safe ; then down she goes on her knees in the dirt and praises God as long as there is any breath left in her body ; and all on your account, for she never mentions the battle once. And always she says, Now it is over — now France is saved — now she will come home — and always is disappointed, and goes about mourning.

Don’t, father, it breaks my heart. I will be so good to her when I get home. I will do her work for her, and be her comfort, and she shall not suffer any more through me.

There was some more talk of this sort, then Uncle Laxart said —

You have done the will of God, dear, and are quits ; it is true, and none may deny it ; but what of the King ? You are his best soldier ; what if he command you to stay ?

That was a crusher — and sudden ! It took Joan a moment or two to recover from the shock of it ; then she said, quite simply and resignedly —

The King is my Lord ; I am his servant. She was silent and thoughtful a little while, then she brightened up and said, cheerily, But let us drive such thoughts away — this is no time for them. Tell me about home.

So the two old gossips talked and talked ; talked about everything and everybody in the village ; and it was good to hear. Joan out of her kindness tried to get us into the conversation, but that failed, of course. She was the Commander-in-Chief, we were nobodies ; her name was the mightiest in France, we were invisible atoms ; she was the comrade of princes and heroes, we of the humble and obscure ; she held 286rank above all Personages and all Puissances whatsoever in the whole earth, by right of bearing her commission direct from God. To put it in one word, she was Joan of Arc — and when that is said, all is said. To us she was divine. Between her and us lay the bridgeless abyss which that word implies. We could not be familiar with her. No, you can see yourselves that that would have been impossible.

And yet she was so human, too, and so good and kind and dear and loving and cheery and charming and unspoiled and unaffected ! Those are all the words I think of now, but they are not enough ; no, they are too few and colorless and meagre to tell it all, or tell the half. Those simple old men didn’t realize her ; they couldn’t ; they had never known any people but human beings, and so they had no other standard to measure her by. To them, after their first little shyness had worn off, she was just a girl — that was all. It was amazing. It made one shiver, sometimes, to see how calm and easy and comfortable they were in her presence, and hear them talk to her exactly as they would have talked to any other girl in France.

Why, that simple old Laxart sat up there and droned out the most tedious and empty tale one ever heard, and neither he nor Papa D’Arc ever gave a thought to the badness of the etiquette of it, or ever suspected that that foolish tale was anything but dignified and valuable history. There was not an atom of value in it ; and whilst they thought it distressing and pathetic, it was in fact not pathetic at all, but actually ridiculous. At least it seemed so to me, and it seems so yet. Indeed I know it was, because it made Joan laugh ; and the more sorrowful it got the more it made her laugh ; and the Paladin said that he could have laughed himself if she had not been there, and Noël Rainguesson said the same. It was about old Laxart going to a funeral there at Domremy two or three weeks back. He had spots all over his face and hands, and he got Joan to rub some healing ointment on them, and while she was doing it, and comforting him, and trying to say pitying things to him, he told her how it happened. And first 287he asked her if she remembered that black bull calf that she left behind when she came away, and she said indeed she did, and he was a dear, and she loved him so, and was he well ? — and just drowned him in questions about that creature. And he said it was a young bull now, and very frisky ; and he was to bear a principal hand at a funeral ; and she said, The bull ? and he said, No, myself ; but said the bull did take a hand, but not because of his being invited, for he wasn’t ; but anyway he was away over beyond the Fairy Tree, and fell asleep on the grass with his Sunday funeral clothes on, and a long black rag on his hat and hanging down his back ; and when he woke he saw by the sun how late it was, and not a moment to lose ; and jumped up terribly worried, and saw the young bull grazing there, and thought maybe he could ride part way on him and gain time ; so he tied a rope around the bull’s body to hold on by, and put a halter on him to steer with, and jumped on and started ; but it was all new to the bull, and he was discontented with it, and scurried around and bellowed and reared and pranced, and Uncle Laxart was satisfied, and wanted to get off and go by the next bull or some other way that was quieter, but he didn’t dare try ; and it was getting very warm for him, too, and disturbing and wearisome, and not proper for Sunday ; but by-and-by the bull lost all his temper, and went tearing down the slope with his tail in the air and bellowing in the most awful way ; and just in the edge of the village he knocked down some beehives, and the bees turned out and joined the excursion, and soared along in a black cloud that nearly hid those other two from sight, and prodded them both, and jabbed them and speared them and spiked them, and made them bellow and shriek, and shriek and bellow ; and here they came roaring through the village like a hurricane, and took the funeral procession right in the centre, and sent that section of it sprawling, and galloped over it, and the rest scattered apart and fled screeching in every direction, every person with a layer of bees on him, and not a rag of that funeral left but the corpse ; and finally the bull broke for the river and jumped in, and 288when they fished Uncle Laxart out he was nearly drowned, and his face looked like a pudding with raisins in it. And then he turned around, this old simpleton, and looked a long time in a dazed way at Joan where she had her face in a cushion, dying, apparently, and says —

What do you reckon she is laughing at ?

And old D’Arc stood looking at her the same way, sort of absently scratching his head ; but had to give it up, and said he didn’t know — must have been something that happened when we weren’t noticing.

Yes, both of those old people thought that that tale was pathetic ; whereas to my mind it was purely ridiculous, and not in any way valuable to any one. It seemed so to me then, and it seems so to me yet. And as for history, it does not resemble history, for the office of history is to furnish serious and important facts that teach ; whereas this strange and useless event teaches nothing ; nothing that I can see, except not to ride a bull to a funeral ; and surely no reflecting person needs to be taught that.

289Chapter 37

Again to Arms

Now, these were nobles, you know, by decree of the King ! — these precious old infants. But they did not realize it ; they could not be called conscious of it ; it was an abstraction, a phantom ; to them it had no substance ; their minds could not take hold of it. No, they did not bother about their nobility ; they lived in their horses. The horses were solid ; they were visible facts, and would make a mighty stir in Domremy. Presently something was said about the Coronation, and old D’Arc said it was going to be a grand thing to be able to say, when they got home, that they were present in the very town itself when it happened. Joan looked troubled, and said —

Ah, that reminds me. You were here and you didn’t send me word. In the town, indeed ! Why, you could have sat with the other nobles, and been welcome ; and could have looked upon the crowning itself, and carried that home to tell. Ah, why did you use me so, and send me no word ?

The old father was embarrassed, now, quite visibly embarrassed, and had the air of one who does not quite know what to say. But Joan was looking up in his face, her hands upon his shoulders — waiting. He had to speak ; so presently he drew her to his breast, which was heaving with emotion ; and he said, getting out his words with difficulty —

There, hide your face, child, and let your old father humble himself and make his confession. I — I don’t you see, don’t you understand ? — I could not know that these grandeurs would not turn your young head — it would be only natural. I might shame you before these great per —

Father !

290And then I was afraid, as remembering that cruel thing I said once in my sinful anger. Oh, appointed of God to be a soldier, and the greatest in the land ! and in my ignorant anger I said I would drown you with my own hands if you unsexed yourself and brought shame to your name and family. Ah, how could I ever have said it, and you so good and dear and innocent ! I was afraid ; for I was guilty. You understand it now, my child, and you forgive ?

Do you see ? Even that poor groping old land-crab, with his skull full of pulp, had pride. Isn’t it wonderful ? And more — he had conscience ; he had a sense of right and wrong, such as it was ; he was able to feel remorse. It looks impossible, it looks incredible, but it is not. I believe that some day it will be found out that peasants are people. Yes, beings in a great many respects like ourselves. And I believe that some day they will find this out, too — and then ! Well, then I think they will rise up and demand to be regarded as part of the race, and that by consequence there will be trouble. Whenever one sees in a book or in a king’s proclamation those words the nation, they bring before us the upper classes ; only those ; we know no other nation ; for us and the kings no other nation exists. But from the day that I saw old D’Arc the peasant acting and feeling just as I should have acted and felt myself, I have carried the conviction in my heart that our peasants are not merely animals, beasts of burden put here by the good God to produce food and comfort for the nation, but something more and better. You look incredulous. Well, that is your training ; it is the training of everybody ; but as for me, I thank that incident for giving me a better light, and I have never forgotten it.

Let me see — where was I ? One’s mind wanders around here and there and yonder, when one is old. I think I said Joan comforted him. Certainly, that is what she would do — there was no need to say that. She coaxed him and petted him and caressed him, and laid the memory of that old hard speech of his to rest. Laid it to rest until she should be dead. Then he would remember it again — yes, yes ! Lord, 291how those things sting, and burn, and gnaw — the things which we did against the innocent dead ! And we say in our anguish, If they could only come back ! Which is all very well to say, but, as far as I can see, it doesn’t profit anything. In my opinion the best way is not to do the thing in the first place. And I am not alone in this ; I have heard our two knights say the same thing ; and a man there in Orleans — no, I believe it was at Beaugency, or one of those places — it seems more as if it was at Beaugency than the others — this man said the same thing exactly ; almost the same words ; a dark man with a cast in his eye and one leg shorter than the other. His name was — was — it is singular that I can’t call that man’s name ; I had it in my mind only a moment ago, and I know it begins with — no, I don’t remember what it begins with ; but never mind, let it go ; I will think of it presently, and then I will tell you.

Well, pretty soon the old father wanted to know how Joan felt when she was in the thick of a battle, with the bright blades hacking and flashing all around her, and the blows rapping and slatting on her shield, and blood gushing on her from the cloven ghastly face and broken teeth of the neighbor at her elbow, and the perilous sudden back surge of massed horses upon a person when the front ranks give way before a heavy rush of the enemy, and men tumble limp and groaning out of saddles all around, and battle-flags falling from dead hands wipe across one’s face and hide the tossing turmoil a moment, and in the reeling and swaying and laboring jumble one’s horse’s hoofs sink into soft substances and shrieks of pain respond, and presently — panic ! rush ! swarm ! flight ! and death and hell following after ! And the old fellow got ever so much excited ; and strode up and down, his tongue going like a mill, asking question after question and never waiting for an answer, and finally he stood Joan up in the middle of the room and stepped off and scanned her critically, and said —

No — I don’t understand it. You are so little. So little and slender. When you had your armor on, to-day, it gave 292one a sort of notion of it ; but in these pretty silks and velvets, you are only a dainty page, not a league-striding war-colossus, moving in clouds and darkness and breathing smoke and thunder. I would God I might see you at it and go tell your mother ! That would help her sleep, poor thing ! Here — teach me the arts of the soldier, that I may explain them to her.

And she did it. She gave him a pike, and put him through the manual of arms ; and made him do the steps, too. His marching was incredibly awkward and slovenly, and so was his drill with the pike ; but he didn’t know it, and was wonderfully pleased with himself, and mightily excited and charmed with the ringing, crisp words of command. I am obliged to say that if looking proud and happy when one is marching were sufficient, he would have been the perfect soldier.

And he wanted a lesson in sword-play, and got it. But of course that was beyond him, he was too old. It was beautiful to see Joan handle the foils, but the old man was a bad failure. He was afraid of the things, and skipped and dodged and scrambled around like a woman who has lost her mind on account of the arrival of a bat. He was of no good as an exhibition. But if La Hire had only come in, that would have been another matter. Those two fenced often ; I saw them many times. True, Joan was easily his master, but it made a good show for all that, for La Hire was a grand swordsman. What a swift creature Joan was ! You would see her standing erect with her ankle-bones together and her foil arched over her head, the hilt in one hand and the button in the other — the old general opposite, bent forward, left hand reposing on his back, his foil advanced, slightly wiggling and squirming, his watching eye boring straight into hers — and all of a sudden she would give a spring forward, and back again ; and there she was, with the foil arched over her head as before. La Hire had been hit, but all that the spectator saw of it was a something like a thin flash of light in the air, but nothing distinct, nothing definite.

293We kept the drinkables moving, for that would please the Bailly and the landlord ; and old Laxart and D’Arc got to feeling quite comfortable, but without being what you could call tipsy. They got out the presents which they had been buying to carry home — humble things and cheap, but they would be fine there, and welcome. And they gave to Joan a present from Père Fronte and one from her mother — the one a little leaden image of the Holy Virgin, the other half a yard of blue silk ribbon ; and she was as pleased as a child ; and touched, too, as one could see plainly enough. Yes, she kissed those poor things over and over again, as if they had been something costly and wonderful ; and she pinned the Virgin on her doublet, and sent for her helmet and tied the ribbon on that ; first one way, then another ; then a new way, then another new way ; and with each effort perching the helmet on her hand and holding it off this way and that, and canting her head to one side and then the other, examining the effect, as a bird does when it has got a new bug. And she said she could almost wish she was going to the wars again ; for then she would fight with the better courage, as having always with her something which her mother’s touch had blessed.

Old Laxart said he hoped she would go to the wars again, but home first, for that all the people there were cruel anxious to see her — and so he went on —

They are proud of you, dear. Yes, prouder than any village ever was of anybody before. And indeed it is right and rational ; for it is the first time a village has ever had anybody like you to be proud of and call its own. And it is strange and beautiful how they try to give your name to every creature that has a sex that is convenient. It is but half a year since you began to be spoken of and left us, and so it is surprising to see how many babies there are already in that region that are named for you. First it was just Joan ; then it was Joan-Orleans ; then Joan-Orleans-Beaugency-Patay ; and now the next ones will have a lot of towns and the Coronation added, of course. Yes, and the animals the same. 294They know how you love animals, and so they try to do you honor and show their love for you by naming all those creatures after you ; insomuch that if a body should step out and call Joan of Arc — come ! there would be a landslide of cats and all such things, each supposing it was the one wanted, and all willing to take the benefit of the doubt, anyway, for the sake of the food that might be on delivery. The kitten you left behind — the last estray you fetched home — bears your name now, and belongs to Père Fronte, and is the pet and pride of the village ; and people have come miles to look at it and pet it and stare at it and wonder over it because it was Joan of Arc’s cat. Everybody will tell you that ; and one day when a stranger threw a stone at it, not knowing it was your cat, the village rose against him as one man and hanged him. And but for Père Fronte —

There was an interruption. It was a messenger from the King, bearing a note for Joan, which I read to her, saying he had reflected, and had consulted his other generals, and was obliged to ask her to remain at the head of the army and withdraw her resignation. Also, would she come immediately and attend a council of war ? Straightway, at a little distance, military commands and the rumble of drums broke on the still night, and we knew that her guard was approaching.

Deep disappointment clouded her face for just one moment and no more — it passed, and with it the homesick girl, and she was Joan of Arc, Commander-in-Chief again, and ready for duty.

295Chapter 38

The King Cries Forward !

In my double quality of page and secretary I followed Joan to the council. She entered that presence with the bearing of a grieved goddess. What was become of the volatile child that so lately was enchanted with a ribbon and suffocated with laughter over the distresses of a foolish peasant who had stormed a funeral on the back of a bee-stung bull ? One may not guess. Simply it was gone, and had left no sign. She moved straight to the council-table, and stood. Her glance swept from face to face there, and, where it fell, these it lit as with a torch, those it scorched as with a brand. She knew where to strike. She indicated the generals with a nod, and said —

My business is not with you. You have not craved a council of war. Then she turned toward the King’s privy council, and continued : No ; it is with you. A council of war ! It is amazing. There is but one thing to do, and only one, and lo, ye call a council of war ! Councils of war have no value but to decide between two or several doubtful courses. But a council of war when there is only one course ? Conceive of a man in a boat and his family in the water, and he goes out among his friends to ask what he would better do ? A council of war, name of God ! To determine what ?

She stopped, and turned till her eyes rested upon the face of La Tremouille and so she stood, silent, measuring him, the excitement in all faces burning steadily higher and higher, and all pulses beating faster and faster ; then she said, with deliberation —

Every sane man — whose loyalty to his King is not a show and a pretence — knows that there is but one rational thing before us — the march upon Paris !

296Down came the fist of La Hire with an approving crash upon the table. La Tremouille turned white with anger, but he pulled himself firmly together and held his peace. The King’s lazy blood was stirred and his eye kindled finely, for the spirit of war was away down in him somewhere, and a frank bold speech always found it and made it tingle gladsomely. Joan waited to see if the chief minister might wish to defend his position ; but he was experienced and wise, and not a man to waste his forces where the current was against him. He would wait ; the King’s private ear would be at his disposal by-and-by.

That pious fox the Chancellor of France took the word now. He washed his soft hands together, smiling persuasively, and said to Joan —

Would it be courteous, your Excellency, to move abruptly from here without waiting for an answer from the Duke of Burgundy ? You may not know that we are negotiating with his Highness, and that there is likely to be a fortnight’s truce between us ; and on his part a pledge to deliver Paris into our hands without cost of a blow or the fatigue of a march thither.

Joan turned to him and said, gravely —

This is not a confessional, my lord. You were not obliged to expose that shame here.

The Chancellor’s face reddened, and he retorted —

Shame ? What is there shameful about it ?

Joan answered in level, passionless tones —

One may describe it without hunting far for words. I knew of this poor comedy, my lord, although it was not intended that I should know. It is to the credit of the devisers of it that they tried to conceal it — this comedy whose text and impulse are describable in two words.

The Chancellor spoke up with a fine irony in his manner —

Indeed ? And will your Excellency be good enough to utter them ?

Cowardice and treachery !

The fists of all the generals came down this time, and again 297the King’s eye sparkled with pleasure. The Chancellor sprang to his feet, and appealed to his Majesty —

Sire, I claim your protection.

But the King waved him to his seat again, saying —

Peace. She had a right to be consulted before that thing was undertaken, since it concerned war as well as politics. It is but just that she be heard upon it now.

The Chancellor sat down trembling with indignation, and remarked to Joan —

Out of charity I will consider that you did not know who devised this measure which you condemn in so candid language.

Save your charity for another occasion, my lord, said Joan, as calmly as before. Whenever anything is done to injure the interests and degrade the honor of France, all but the dead know how to name the two conspirators-in-chief.

Sire, sire ! this insinuation —

It is not an insinuation, my lord, said Joan placidly, it is a charge. I bring it against the King’s chief minister and his Chancellor.

Both men were on their feet now, insisting that the King modify Joan’s frankness ; but he was not minded to do it. His ordinary councils were stale water — his spirit was drinking wine now, and the taste of it was good. He said —

Sit — and be patient. What is fair for one must in fairness be allowed the other. Consider — and be just. When have you two spared her ? What dark charges and harsh names have you withheld when you spoke of her ? Then he added, with a veiled twinkle in his eye, If these are offences, I see no particular difference between them, except that she says her hard things to your faces, whereas you say yours behind her back.

He was pleased with that neat shot and the way it shrivelled those two people up, and made La Hire laugh out loud and the other generals softly quake and chuckle. Joan tranquilly resumed —

From the first, we have been hindered by this policy of 298shilly-shally ; this fashion of counselling and counselling and counselling where no counselling is needed, but only fighting. We took Orleans on the 8th of May, and could have cleared the region round about in three days and saved the slaughter of Patay. We could have been in Rheims six weeks ago, and in Paris now ; and would see the last Englishman pass out of France in half a year. But we struck no blow after Orleans, but went off into the country — what for ? Ostensibly to hold councils ; really to give Bedford time to send reinforcements to Talbot — which he did ; and Patay had to be fought. After Patay, more counselling, more waste of precious time. O my King, I would that you would be persuaded ! She began to warm up, now. Once more we have our opportunity. If we rise and strike, all is well. Bid me march upon Paris. In twenty days it shall be yours, and in six months all France ! Here is half a year’s work before us ; if this chance be wasted, I give you twenty years to do it in. Speak the word, O gentle King — speak but the one —

I cry you mercy ! interrupted the Chancellor, who saw a dangerous enthusiasm rising in the King’s face. March upon Paris ? Does your Excellency forget that the way bristles with English strongholds ?

That for your English strongholds ! and Joan snapped her fingers scornfully. Whence have we marched in these last days ? From Gien. And whither ? To Rheims. What bristled between ? English strongholds. What are they now ? French ones — and they never cost a blow !

Here applause broke out from the group of generals, and Joan had to pause a moment to let it subside. Yes, English strongholds bristled before us ; now French ones bristle behind us. What is the argument ? A child can read it. The strongholds between us and Paris are garrisoned by no new breed of English, but by the same breed as those others — with the same fears, the same questionings, the same weaknesses, the same disposition to see the heavy hand of God descending upon them. We have but to march ! — on the instant — and they are 299ours, Paris is ours, France is ours ! Give the word, O my King, command your servant to —

Stay ! cried the Chancellor. It would be madness to put this affront upon his Highness the Duke of Burgundy. By the treaty which we have every hope to make with him

Oh, the treaty which we hope to make with him ! He has scorned you for years, and defied you. Is it your subtle persuasions that have softened his manners and beguiled him to listen to proposals ? No ; it was blows ! — the blows which we gave him ! That is the only teaching that that sturdy rebel can understand. What does he care for wind ? The treaty which we hope to make with him — alack ! He deliver Paris ! There is no pauper in the land that is less able to do it. He deliver Paris ! Ah, but that would make great Bedford smile ! Oh, the pitiful pretext ! the blind can see that this thin pourparler with its fifteen-day truce has no purpose but to give Bedford time to hurry forward his forces against us. More treachery — always treachery ! We call a council of war — with nothing to counsel about ; but Bedford calls no council to teach him what our one course is. He knows what he would do in our place. He would hang his traitors and march upon Paris ! O gentle King, rouse ! The way is open, Paris beckons, France implores. Speak and we —

Sire, it is madness, sheer madness ! Your Excellency, we cannot, we must not go back from what we have done ; we have proposed to treat, we must treat with the Duke of Burgundy.

And we will ! said Joan.

Ah ? How ?

At the point of the lance !

The house rose to a man — all that had French hearts — and let go a crash of applause — and kept it up ; and in the midst of it one heard La Hire growl out : At the point of the lance ! By God, that is the music ! The King was up, too, and drew his sword, and took it by the blade and strode to Joan and delivered the hilt of it into her hand, saying —

There, the King surrenders. Carry it to Paris.

And so the applause burst out again, and the historical council of war that has bred so many legends was over.

300Chapter 39

We Win, But the King Balks

It was away past midnight, and had been a tremendous day in the matter of excitement and fatigue, but that was no matter to Joan when there was business on hand. She did not think of bed. The generals followed her to her official quarters, and she delivered her orders to them as fast as she could talk, and they sent them off to their different commands as fast as delivered ; wherefore the messengers galloping hither and thither raised a world of clatter and racket in the still streets ; and soon were added to this the music of distant bugles and the roll of drums — notes of preparation ; for the vanguard would break camp at dawn.

The generals were soon dismissed, but I wasn’t ; nor Joan ; for it was my turn to work now. Joan walked the floor and dictated a summons to the Duke of Burgundy to lay down his arms and make peace and exchange pardons with the King ; or, if he must fight, go fight the Saracens. Pardonnez-vous l’un à l’autre de bon cœur, entièrement, ainsi que doivent faire loyaux chrétiens, et, s’il vous plaît de guerroyer, allez contre les Sarrasins. It was long, but it was good, and had the sterling ring to it. It is my opinion that it was as fine and simple and straightforward and eloquent a state paper as she ever uttered.

It was delivered into the hands of a courier, and he galloped away with it. Then Joan dismissed me, and told me to go to the inn and stay ; and in the morning give to her father the parcel which she had left there. It contained presents for the Domremy relatives and friends and a peasant dress which she had bought for herself. She said she would say good-bye to her father and uncle in the morning if it should 301still be their purpose to go, instead of tarrying awhile to see the city.

I didn’t say anything, of course ; but I could have said that wild horses couldn’t keep those men in that town half a day. They waste the glory of being the first to carry the great news to Domremy — the taxes remitted forever ! — and hear the bells clang and clatter, and the people cheer and shout ? Oh, not they. Patay and Orleans and the Coronation were events which in a vague way these men understood to be colossal ; but they were colossal mists, films, abstractions : this was a gigantic reality !

When I got there, do you suppose they were abed ? Quite the reverse. They and the rest were as mellow as mellow could be ; and the Paladin was doing his battles over in great style, and the old peasants were endangering the building with their applause. He was doing Patay now : and was bending his big frame forward and laying out the positions and movements with a rake here and a rake there of his formidable sword on the floor, and the peasants were stooped over with their hands on their spread knees observing with excited eyes and ripping out ejaculations of wonder and admiration all along —

Yes, here we were, waiting — waiting for the word ; our horses fidgeting and snorting and dancing to get away, we lying back on the bridles till our bodies fairly slanted to the rear ; the word rang out at last — Go ! and we went !

Went ? There was nothing like it ever seen ! Where we swept by squads of scampering English, the mere wind of our passage laid them flat in piles and rows ! Then we plunged into the ruck of Fastolfe’s frantic battle-corps and tore through it like a hurricane, leaving a causeway of the dead stretching far behind ; no tarrying, no slacking rein, but on ! on ! on ! far yonder in the distance lay our prey — Talbot and his host looming vast and dark like a storm-cloud brooding on the sea ! Down we swooped upon them, glooming all the air with a quivering pall of dead leaves flung up by the whirlwind of our flight. In another moment we should have struck 302them as world strikes world when disorbited constellations crash into the Milky Way, but by misfortune and the inscrutable dispensation of God I was recognized ! Talbot turned white, and shouting, Save yourselves, it is the Standard-bearer of Joan of Arc ! drove his spurs home till they met in the middle of his horse’s entrails, and fled the field with his billowing multitudes at his back ! I could have cursed myself for not putting on a disguise. I saw reproach in the eyes of her Excellency, and was bitterly ashamed. I had caused what seemed an irreparable disaster. Another might have gone aside to grieve, as not seeing any way to mend it ; but I thank God I am not of those. Great occasions only summon as with a trumpet-call the slumbering reserves of my intellect. I saw my opportunity in an instant — in the next I was away ! Through the woods I vanished — fst ! — like an extinguished light ! Away around through the curtaining forest I sped, as if on wings, none knowing what was become of me, none suspecting my design. Minute after minute passed, on and on I flew ; on and still on ; and at last with a great cheer I flung my Banner to the breeze and burst out in front of Talbot ! Oh, it was a mighty thought ! That weltering chaos of distracted men whirled and surged backward like a tidal wave which has struck a continent, and the day was ours ! Poor helpless creatures, they were in a trap ; they were surrounded ; they could not escape to the rear, for there was our army ; they could not escape to the front, for there was I. Their hearts shrivelled in their bodies, their hands fell listless at their sides. They stood still, and at our leisure we slaughtered them to a man ; all except Talbot and Fastolfe, whom I saved and brought away, one under each arm.

Well, there is no denying it, the Paladin was in great form that night. Such style ! such noble grace of gesture, such grandeur of attitude, such energy when he got going ! such steady rise, on such sure wing, such nicely graduated expenditures of voice according to weight of matter, such skilfully calculated approaches to his surprises and explosions, such 303belief-compelling sincerity of tone and manner, such a climaxing peal from his brazen lungs, and such a lightning-vivid picture of his mailed form and flaunting banner when he burst out before that despairing army ! And oh, the gentle art of the last half of his last sentence — delivered in the careless and indolent tone of one who has finished his real story, and only adds a colorless and inconsequential detail because it has happened to occur to him in a lazy way.

It was a marvel to see those innocent peasants. Why they went all to pieces with enthusiasm, and roared out applauses fit to raise the roof and wake the dead. When they had cooled down at last and there was silence but for their heaving and panting, old Laxart said, admiringly —

As it seems to me, you are an army in your single person.

Yes, that is what he is, said Noël Rainguesson, convincingly. He is a terror ; and not just in this vicinity. His mere name carries a shudder with it to distant lands — just his mere name ; and when he frowns, the shadow of it falls as far as Rome, and the chickens go to roost an hour before schedule time. Yes ; and some say —

Noël Rainguesson, you are preparing yourself for trouble. I will say just one word to you, and it will be to your advantage to —

I saw that the usual thing had got a start. No man could prophesy when it would end. So I delivered Joan’s message and went off to bed.

Joan made her good-byes to those old fellows in the morning, with loving embraces and many tears, and with a packed multitude for sympathizers, and they rode proudly away on their precious horses to carry their great news home. I had seen better riders, I will say that ; for horsemanship was a new art to them.

The vanguard moved out at dawn and took the road, with bands braying and banners flying ; the second division followed at eight. Then came the Burgundian ambassadors, and lost us the rest of that day and the whole of the next. 304But Joan was on hand, and so they had their journey for their pains. The rest of us took the road at dawn, next morning, July 20th. And got how far ? Six leagues. Tremouille was getting in his sly work with the vacillating King, you see. The King stopped at St. Marcoul and prayed three days. Precious time lost — for us ; precious time gained for Bedford. He would know how to use it.

We could not go on without the King ; that would be to leave him in the conspirators’ camp. Joan argued, reasoned, implored ; and at last we got under way again.

Joan’s prediction was verified. It was not a campaign it was only another holiday excursion. English strongholds lined our route ; they surrendered without a blow ; we garrisoned them with Frenchmen and passed on. Bedford was on the march against us with his new army by this time, and on the 25th of July the hostile forces faced each other and made preparation for battle ; but Bedford’s good judgment prevailed, and he turned and retreated toward Paris. Now was our chance. Our men were in great spirits.

Will you believe it ? Our poor stick of a King allowed his worthless advisers to persuade him to start back for Gien, whence we had set out when we first marched for Rheims and the Coronation ! And we actually did start back. The fifteen-day truce had just been concluded with the Duke of Burgundy, and we would go and tarry at Gien until he should deliver Paris to us without a fight.

We marched to Bray ; then the King changed his mind once more, and with it his face toward Paris. Joan dictated a letter to the citizens of Rheims to encourage them to keep heart in spite of the truce, and promising to stand by them. She furnished them the news herself that the King had made this truce ; and in speaking of it she was her usual frank self. She said she was not satisfied with it, and didn’t know whether she would keep it or not ; that if she kept it, it would be solely out of tenderness for the King’s honor. All French children know those famous words. How naïve they are ! De cette trêve qui a été faite, je ne suis pas contente, et je 305ne sais si je la tiendrai. Si je la tiens, ce sera seulement pour garder l’honneur du roi. But in any case, she said, she would not allow the blood royal to be abused, and would keep the army in good order and ready for work at the end of the truce.

Poor child, to have to fight England, Burgundy, and a French conspiracy all at the same time — it was too bad. She was a match for the others, but a conspiracy — ah, nobody is a match for that, when the victim that is to be injured is weak and willing. It grieved her, these troubled days, to be so hindered and delayed and baffled, and at times she was sad and the tears lay near the surface. Once, talking with her good old faithful friend and servant the Bastard of Orleans, she said —

Ah, if it might but please God to let me put off this steel raiment and go back to my father and my mother, and tend my sheep again with my sister and my brothers, who would be so glad to see me !

By the 12th of August we were camped near Dampmartin. Later we had a brush with Bedford’s rear-guard, and had hopes of a big battle on the morrow, but Bedford and all his force got away in the night and went on toward Paris.

Charles sent heralds and received the submission of Beauvais. The Bishop Pierre Cauchon, that faithful friend and slave of the English, was not able to prevent it, though he did his best. He was obscure then, but his name was to travel round the globe presently, and live forever in the curses of France ! Bear with me now, while I spit in fancy upon his grave.

Compiègne surrendered, and hauled down the English flag. On the 14th we camped two leagues from Senlis. Bedford turned and approached, and took up a strong position. We went against him, but all our efforts to beguile him out from his intrenchments failed, though he had promised us a duel in the open field. Night shut down. Let him look out for the morning ! But in the morning he was gone again.

306We entered Compiègne the 18th of August, turning out the English garrison and hoisting our own flag.

On the 23d Joan gave command to move upon Paris. The King and the clique were not satisfied with this, and retired sulking to Senlis, which had just surrendered. Within a few days many strong places submitted — Creil, Pont-Saint-Maxence, Choisy, Gournay-sur-Aronde, Remy, La Neufville-en-Hez, Moguay, Chantilly, Saintines. The English power was tumbling, crash after crash ! And still the King sulked and disapproved, and was afraid of our movement against the capital.

On the 26th of August, 1429, Joan camped at Saint-Denis ; in effect, under the walls of Paris.

And still the King hung back and was afraid. If we could but have had him there to back us with his authority ! Bedford had lost heart and decided to waive resistance and go and concentrate his strength in the best and loyalest province remaining to him — Normandy. Ah, if we could only have persuaded the King to come and countenance us with his presence and approval at this supreme moment !

307Chapter 40

Treachery Conquers Joan

Courier after courier was despatched to the King, and he promised to come, but didn’t. The Duke d’Alençon went to him and got his promise again, which he broke again. Nine days were lost thus ; then he came, arriving at St. Denis September 7th.

Meantime the enemy had begun to take heart : the spiritless conduct of the King could have no other result. Preparations had now been made to defend the city. Joan’s chances had been diminished, but she and her generals considered them plenty good enough yet. Joan ordered the attack for eight o’clock next morning, and at that hour it began.

Joan placed her artillery and began to pound a strong work which protected the gate St. Honoré. When it was sufficiently crippled the assault was sounded at noon, and it was carried by storm. Then we moved forward to storm the gate itself, and hurled ourselves against it again and again, Joan in the lead with her standard at her side, the smoke enveloping us in choking clouds, and the missiles flying over us and through us as thick as hail.

In the midst of our last assault, which would have carried the gate sure and given us Paris, and in effect France, Joan was struck down by a crossbow bolt, and our men fell back instantly and almost in a panic — for what were they without her ? She was the army, herself.

Although disabled, she refused to retire, and begged that a new assault be made, saying it must win ; and adding, with the battle-light rising in her eyes, I will take Paris now or die ! She had to be carried away by force, and this was done by Gaucourt and the Duke d’Alençon.

308But her spirits were at the very top notch, now. She was brimming with enthusiasm. She said she would be carried before the gate in the morning, and in half an hour Paris would be ours without any question. She could have kept her word. About this there is no doubt. But she forgot one factor — the King, shadow of that substance named La Tremouille. The King forbade the attempt !

You see, a new Embassy had just come from the Duke of Burgundy, and another sham private trade of some sort was on foot.

You would know, without my telling you, that Joan’s heart was nearly broken. Because of the pain of her wound and the pain at her heart she slept little that night. Several times the watchers heard muffled sobs from the dark room where she lay at St. Denis, and many times the grieving words It could have been taken ! — it could have been taken ! which were the only ones she said.

She dragged herself out of bed a day later with a new hope. D’Alençon had thrown a bridge across the Seine near St. Denis. Might she not cross by that and assault Paris at another point ? But the King got wind of it and broke the bridge down ! And more — he declared the campaign ended ! And more still — he had made a new truce and a long one, in which he had agreed to leave Paris unthreatened and unmolested, and go back to the Loire whence he had come !

Joan of Arc, who had never been defeated by the enemy, was defeated by her own King. She had said once that all she feared for her cause was treachery. It had struck its first blow now. She hung up her white armor in the royal basilica of St. Denis, and went and asked the King to relieve her of her functions and let her go home. As usual, she was wise. Grand combinations, far-reaching great military moves were at an end, now ; for the future, when the truce should end, the war would be merely a war of random and idle skirmishes, apparently ; work suitable for subalterns, and not requiring the supervision of a sublime military genius. But the King would not let her go. The truce did not embrace all 309France ; there were French strongholds to be watched and preserved ; he would need her. Really, you see, Tremouille wanted to keep her where he could balk and hinder her.

Now came her Voices again. They said, Remain at St. Denis. There was no explanation. They did not say why. That was the voice of God ; it took precedence of the command of the King ; Joan resolved to stay. But that filled La Tremouille with dread. She was too tremendous a force to be left to herself ; she would surely defeat all his plans. He beguiled the King to use compulsion. Joan had to submit — because she was wounded and helpless. In the Great Trial she said she was carried away against her will ; and that if she had not been wounded it could not have been accomplished. Ah, she had a spirit, that slender girl ! a spirit to brave all earthly powers and defy them. We shall never know why the Voices ordered her to stay. We only know this : that if she could have obeyed, the history of France would not be as it now stands written in the books. Yes, well we know that.

On the 13th of September the army, sad and spiritless, turned its face toward the Loire, and marched — without music ! Yes, one noted that detail. It was a funeral march ; that is what it was. A long, dreary funeral march, with never a shout or a cheer ; friends looking on in tears, all the way, enemies laughing. We reached Gien at last — that place whence we had set out on our splendid march toward Rheims less than three months before, with flags flying, bands playing, the victory-flush of Patay glowing in our faces, and the massed multitudes shouting and praising and giving us God-speed. There was a dull rain falling now, the day was dark, the heavens mourned, the spectators were few, we had no welcome but the welcome of silence, and pity, and tears.

Then the King disbanded that noble army of heroes ; it furled its flags, it stored its arms : the disgrace of France was complete. La Tremouille wore the victor’s crown ; Joan of Arc, the unconquerable, was conquered.

310Chapter 41

The Maid Will March No More

Yes, it was as I have said : Joan had Paris and France in her grip, and the Hundred Years’ War under her heel, and the King made her open her fist and take away her foot.

Now followed about eight months of drifting about with the King and his council, and his gay and showy and dancing and flirting and hawking and frolicking and serenading and dissipating court — drifting from town to town and from castle to castle — a life which was pleasant to us of the personal staff, but not to Joan. However, she only saw it, she didn’t live it. The King did his sincerest best to make her happy, and showed a most kind and constant anxiety in this matter. All others had to go loaded with the chains of an exacting court etiquette, but she was free, she was privileged. So that she paid her duty to the King once a day and passed the pleasant word, nothing further was required of her. Naturally, then, she made herself a hermit, and grieved the weary days through in her own apartments, with her thoughts and devotions for company, and the planning of now forever unrealizable military combinations for entertainment. In fancy she moved bodies of men from this and that and the other point, so calculating the distances to be covered, the time required for each body, and the nature of the country to be traversed as to have them appear in sight of each other on a given day or at a given hour and concentrate for battle. It was her only game, her only relief from her burden of sorrow and inaction. She played it hour after hour, as others play chess ; and lost herself in it, and so got repose for her mind and healing for her heart.

She never complained, of course. It was not her way. She 311was the sort that endure in silence. But — she was a caged eagle just the same, and pined for the free air and the alpine heights and the fierce joys of the storm.

France was full of rovers — disbanded soldiers ready for anything that might turn up. Several times, at intervals, when Joan’s dull captivity grew too heavy to bear, she was allowed to gather a troop of cavalry and make a health-restoring dash against the enemy. These things were like a bath to her spirits.

It was like old times, there at Saint-Pierre-le-Moutier, to see her lead assault after assault, be driven back again and again, but always rally and charge anew, all in a blaze of eagerness and delight ; till at last the tempest of missiles rained so intolerably thick that old D’Aulon, who was wounded, sounded the retreat (for the King had charged him on his head to let no harm come to Joan) ; and away everybody rushed after him — as he supposed ; but when he turned and looked, there were we of the staff still hammering away ; wherefore he rode back and urged her to come, saying she was mad to stay there with only a dozen men. Her eye danced merrily, and she turned upon him, crying out —

A dozen men ! name of God, I have fifty thousand, and will never budge till this place is taken ! Sound the charge !

Which he did, and over the walls we went, and the fortress was ours. Old D’Aulon thought her mind was wandering ; but all she meant was that she felt the might of fifty thousand men surging in her heart. It was a fanciful expression ; but, to my thinking, truer word was never said.

Then there was the affair near Lagny, where we charged the intrenched Burgundians through the open field four times, the last time victoriously ; the best prize of it Franquet d’Arras, the freebooter and pitiless scourge of the region roundabout.

Now and then other such affairs ; and at last, away toward the end of May, 1430, we were in the neighborhood of Compiègne, and Joan resolved to go to the help of that place, which was being besieged by the Duke of Burgundy.

312I had been wounded lately, and was not able to ride without help ; but the good Dwarf took me on behind him, and I held on to him and was safe enough. We started at midnight, in a sullen downpour of warm rain, and went slowly and softly and in dead silence, for we had to slip through the enemy’s lines. We were challenged only once ; we made no answer, but held our breath and crept steadily and stealthily along, and got through without any accident. About three or half past we reached Compiègne, just as the gray dawn was breaking in the east.

Joan set to work at once, and concerted a plan with Guillaume de Flavy, captain of the city — a plan for a sortie toward evening against the enemy, who was posted in three bodies on the other side of the Oise, in the level plain. From our side one of the city gates communicated with a bridge. The end of this bridge was defended on the other side of the river by one of those fortresses called a boulevard ; and this boulevard also commanded a raised road, which stretched from its front across the plain to the village of Marguy. A force of Burgundians occupied Marguy ; another was camped at Clairoix, a couple of miles above the raised road ; and a body of English was holding Venette, a mile and a half below it. A kind of bow-and-arrow arrangement, you see : the causeway the arrow, the boulevard at the feather-end of it, Marguy at the barb, Venette at one end of the bow, Clairoix at the other.

Joan’s plan was to go straight per causeway against Marguy, carry it by assault, then turn swiftly upon Clairoix, up to the right, and capture that camp in the same way, then face to the rear and be ready for heavy work, for the Duke of Burgundy lay behind Clairoix with a reserve. Flavy’s lieutenant, with archers and the artillery of the boulevard, was to keep the English troops from coming up from below and seizing the causeway and cutting off Joan’s retreat in case she should have to make one. Also, a fleet of covered boats was to be stationed near the boulevard as an additional help in case a retreat should become necessary.

It was the 24th of May. At four in the afternoon Joan 313moved out at the head of six hundred cavalry — on her last march in this life !

It breaks my heart. I had got myself helped up on to the walls, and from there I saw much that happened ; the rest was told me long afterwards by our two knights and other eye-witnesses. Joan crossed the bridge, and soon left the boulevard behind her and went skimming away over the raised road with her horsemen clattering at her heels. She had on a brilliant silver-gilt cape over her armor, and I could see it flap and flare and rise and fall like a little patch of white flame.

It was a bright day, and one could see far and wide over that plain. Soon we saw the English force advancing swiftly and in handsome order, the sunlight flashing from its arms.

Joan crashed into the Burgundians at Marguy and was repulsed. Then we saw the other Burgundians moving down from Clairoix. Joan rallied her men and charged again, and was again rolled back. Two assaults occupy a good deal of time — and time was precious here. The English were approaching the road, now from Venette, but the boulevard opened fire on them and they were checked. Joan heartened her men with inspiring words and led them to the charge again in great style. This time she carried Marguy with a hurrah. Then she turned at once to the right and plunged into the plain and struck the Clairoix force, which was just arriving ; then there was heavy work, and plenty of it, the two armies hurling each other backward turn about and about, and victory inclining first to the one, then to the other. Now all of a sudden there was a panic on our side. Some say one thing caused it, some another. Some say the cannonade made our front ranks think retreat was being cut off by the English, some say the rear ranks got the idea that Joan was killed. Anyway our men broke, and went flying in a wild rout for the causeway. Joan tried to rally them and face them around, crying to them that victory was sure, but it did no good, they divided and swept by her like a wave. Old D’Aulon begged her to retreat while there was yet a chance for safety, but she refused ; so he seized her horse’s bridle and 314bore her along with the wreck and ruin in spite of herself. And so along the causeway they came swarming, that wild confusion of frenzied men and horses — and the artillery had to stop firing, of course ; consequently the English and Burgundians closed in in safety, the former in front, the latter behind their prey. Clear to the boulevard the French were washed in this enveloping inundation ; and there, cornered in an angle formed by the flank of the boulevard and the slope of the causeway, they bravely fought a hopeless fight, and sank down one by one.

Flavy, watching from the city wall, ordered the gate to be closed and the drawbridge raised. This shut Joan out.

The little personal guard around her thinned swiftly. Both of our good knights went down disabled ; Joan’s two brothers fell wounded ; then Noël Rainguesson — all wounded while loyally sheltering Joan from blows aimed at her. When only the Dwarf and the Paladin were left, they would not give up, but stood their ground stoutly, a pair of steel towers streaked and splashed with blood ; and where the axe of the one fell, and the sword of the other, an enemy gasped and died. And so fighting, and loyal to their duty to the last, good simple souls, they came to their honorable end. Peace to their memories ! they were very dear to me.

Then there was a cheer and a rush, and Joan, still defiant, still laying about her with her sword, was seized by her cape and dragged from her horse. She was borne away a prisoner to the Duke of Burgundy’s camp, and after her followed the victorious army roaring its joy.

The awful news started instantly on its round ; from lip to lip it flew ; and wherever it came it struck the people as with a sort of paralysis ; and they murmured over and over again, as if they were talking to themselves, or in their sleep, The Maid of Orleans taken !… Joan of Arc a prisoner !… the Savior of France lost to us ! — and would keep saying that over, as if they couldn’t understand how it could be, or how God could permit it, poor creatures !

You know what a city is like when it is hung from eaves to 315pavement with rustling black ? Then you know what Tours was like, and some other cities. But can any man tell you what the mourning in the hearts of the peasantry of France was like ? No, nobody can tell you that ; and poor dumb things, they could not have told you themselves ; but it was there — indeed yes. Why, it was the spirit of a whole nation hung with crape !

The 24th of May. We will draw down the curtain, now, upon the most strange, and pathetic, and wonderful military drama that has been played upon the stage of the world. Joan of Arc will march no more.

Notes

1. [1]

   This prayer has been stolen many times and by many nations in the past four hundred and sixty years, but it originated with La Hire, and the fact is of official record in the National Archives of France. We have the authority of Michelet for this. — Translator.

2. [2]

   It is still celebrated every year with civic and military pomps and solemnities. — Translator.

3. [3]

   Lord Ronald Gower (Joan of Arc, p. 82) says :

   Michelet discovered this story in the deposition of Joan of Arc’s page, Louis de Conte, who was probably an eye-witness of the scene.

   This is true. It was a part of the testimony of the author of these Personal Recollections of Joan of Arc, given by him in the Rehabilitation proceedings of 1456. — Translator.

4. [4]

   It was faithfully kept during three hundred and sixty years and more ; then the over-confident octogenarian’s prophecy failed. During the tumult of the French Revolution the promise was forgotten and the grace withdrawn. It has remained in disuse ever since. Joan never asked to be remembered, but France has remembered her with an inextinguishable love and reverence ; Joan never asked for a statue, but France has lavished them upon her ; Joan never asked for a church for Domremy, but France is building one ; Joan never asked for saintship, but even that is impending. Everything which Joan of Arc did not ask for has been given her, and with a noble profusion ; but the one humble little thing which she did ask for and get, has been taken away from her. There is something infinitely pathetic about this. France owes Domremy a hundred years of taxes, and could hardly find a citizen within her borders who would vote against the payment of the debt. — Note by the Translator.