With tears and cries of joy the husbandmen welcomed them. There was food in
plenty, too, so the village rejoiced, and life bade fair to be bright once more.
Only the wise ones shook their heads ominously. For were they not likely to lose the beasts forever on the morrow?
Thus the days passed in the valley; nights of terror; dreams of horror; with war everywhere around; but Jeanne grew and blossomed as the lily grows from the
muck of a swamp.
[4]
Godons––A term applied to the English.
[5]
From this word we have the English term “tally.”
CHAPTER V
JEANNE’S VISION
“Thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent
and revealed them unto babes. ”
ST. MATTHEW 11:25.
The summer gave place to winter; winter in turn was succeeded by spring, and
again it was summer. Though there were raids in distant parts of the valley, and wild rumors and false alarms, Domremy was mercifully spared a second
visitation. A strict watch was still kept, however, for glitter of lance along the highroad, or gleaming among the trees of the forest, but life resumed its tranquil aspect. The men toiled in the fields or the vineyards; women spun and wove, and looked after their households; children played or tended the herds and flocks on the common as of yore.
One warm afternoon in late July Jeanne, with others of her playmates, was on the uplands watching the flocks nibble the short green grass. The boys and girls were scattered over the uplands, but Mengette and Hauviette sat with Jeanne under the shade of a tree. The three friends were never very far apart, and 54as
usual their small fingers were busied with the threads of their distaffs.
It was a delicious afternoon. The air, though warm, was soft and balmy, and fragrant with the perfume of wild mignonette and linden flowers. In the fields the ripened wheat rippled in the breeze like a yellow sea, and scarlet poppies made great splotches of color against the golden heads. The Meuse flowed sluggishly through dense masses of reeds and bushes, almost hidden by their foliage. A lovely scene, for the Valley of Colors, always beautiful, was never more so than in Summer. A busy scene, too; for men and boys were working in
the fields and vineyards, either cradling the ripened grain, or tying up the vines, heavy with bunches of grapes.
“The sheep grow restless,” spoke Jeanne suddenly, as she noticed that some of the animals were beginning to stray apart from their fellows. “They have nipped the grass clean here. ’Tis time to move them.”
“And I grow sleepy,” cried Mengette, yawning. “We have been here since early
morning, so ’tis no wonder. If I keep on pulling threads from this distaff I shall do like Colin yonder: lie down on the grass and go to sleep.”
“He ought not to sleep while he has the sheep to attend to,” declared Hauviette, shaking her head. “They might stray into the vineyards, or the forest, and he would be none the wiser.”
“He knows that we would not let them if we saw them,” said Jeanne. “I think he
depends on us to look after them, though his flock is the largest one here. He ought not to be sleeping if we move our sheep away.”
She arose as she spoke and went quickly over to where Colin lay stretched out
on the grass. Jeanne had grown taller in the year that had passed. “She shot up like a weed,” her mother commented as she lengthened the girl’s red woolen frocks. There had come an expression of thoughtfulness into her face, and her eyes seemed larger and brighter, holding a look of wonderment as though she were puzzling over many things; but there was no change in her gayety and high
spirits. The sleeping boy opened his eyes drowsily as she shook him.
“Wake, Colin,” she cried. “Wake, and attend to what I tell you. We are going to take our sheep further afield. You must wake to look after yours.”
But Colin pulled away from her grasp, and settled down for another nap. Jeanne
shook him again vigorously.
“You must wake, you lazy boy,” she cried. “What would your father say to you
should aught happen to the sheep? And we are going to move ours.”
Colin sat up reluctantly at this, rubbing his eyes, and muttering discontentedly.
So drowsy did he appear that Jeanne realized that some sort of expedient must be used to rouse him.
“There stands a cluster of linden flowers yonder on the edge of the forest, Colin.
They are unusually pretty, and I want them. Your mother wants some, too. I heard her tell you to bring her some from the fields. See if you can get to them before I do.”
“It’s too hot to run,” murmured the boy. “It’s just like a girl to want a race when it’s hot. I’d rather sit still.”
