A Heroine of France | Page 6

gave me a shrewd glance, the
meaning of which I was at no loss to understand. He thought that
Bertrand's head had been something turned, and that he had become a
visionary, looking rather for a miracle from heaven than for deliverance
from the foe through hard fighting by loyal men marching under the
banner of their King. Truth we all knew well that little short of a
miracle would arouse the indolent and discouraged Charles, cowed by
the English foe, doubtful of his own right to call himself Dauphin,
distrustful of his friends, despairing of winning the love or trust of his
subjects. But could it indeed be possible that such a miracle could be

wrought, and by an instrument so humble as a village maid--this Jeanne
d'Arc?
But the time had come when we must say adieu to our comrade, and
turn ourselves back to Vaucouleurs, if we were not to be benighted in
the forest ere we could reach that place. We halted for our serving men
to come up; and as we did so Bertrand said in a low voice to Sir Guy:
"I pray you, Seigneur de Laval, speak no word to His Majesty of this
maid and her mission, until such time as news may reach him of her
from other sources."
"I will say no word," answered the other, smiling, and so with many
friendly words we parted, and Bertrand and I, with one servant behind
us, turned our horses' heads back along the road by which we had
come.
"Bertrand," I said, as the shadows lengthened, the soft dusk fell in the
forest, and the witchery of the evening hour fell upon my heart, "I
would that I could see this maiden of whom you speak, this Jeanne
d'Arc of the village of Domremy."
He turned and looked me full in the face; I saw his eyes glow and the
colour deepen in his cheeks.
"You would not go to mock, friend Jean de Metz?" he said, for so I am
generally named amongst my friends.
"Nay," I answered truthfully, "there is no thought of mockery in my
heart; yet I fain would see the Maid."
He paused awhile in thought and then made answer:
"At least we may ride together one day to Domremy; but whether or no
we see the Maid will be according to the will of Heaven."
CHAPTER II.

HOW I FIRST SAW THE MAID.
I did not forget my desire to see this maiden of Domremy, nor did
Bertrand, I trow, forget the promise, albeit some days passed by ere we
put our plan into action.
Bad news kept coming in to the little loyal township of Vaucouleurs.
There was no manner of doubt but that the English Regent, Bedford,
was resolved to lose no more time, but seek to put beneath his iron heel
the whole of the realm of France. Gascony had been English so long
that the people could remember nothing different than the rule of the
Roy Outremer--as of old they called him. Now all France north of the
Loire owned the same sway, and as all men know, the Duke of
Burgundy was ally to the English, and hated the Dauphin with a deadly
hatred, for the murder of his father--for which no man can justly blame
him. True, his love for the English had cooled manifestly since that
affair of Duke Humphrey of Gloucester and Jacquelaine of Brabant, in
which as was natural, he took the part of his brother; but although the
Duke of Bedford was highly indignant with Duke Humphrey, and gave
him no manner of support in his rash expedition, yet the Duke of
Burgundy resented upon the English what had been done, and although
it did not drive him into the arms of the Dauphin, whom he hated worse,
it loosened the bond between him and our foes, and we had hoped it
might bring about a better state of things for our party. Yet alas!--this
seemed as far as ever from being so; and the Burgundian soldiers still
ravaged along our borders, and it seemed ofttimes as though we little
loyal community of the Duchy of Bar would be swallowed up
altogether betwixt the two encroaching foes. So our hearts were often
heavy and our faces grave with fear.
I noted in the manner of the Governor, whose guest I had now become,
a great gravity, which in old days had not been there; for Robert de
Baudricourt, as I remembered him, had ever been a man of merry mood,
with a great laugh, a ready jest, and that sort of rough, bluff courage
that makes light of trouble and peril.
Now, however, we often saw him sunk in some deep reverie, his chin
upon his hand, his