“She would come to me with it if there were. She is becoming more thoughtful
as she grows older; that is all.”
“I like it not,” grumbled Jacques, shaking his head as though but half convinced.
“I much fear that something is wrong. It is not fitting that so young a girl should be so pious. Is not that a Friar turning in from the highway, Isabeau?”
CHAPTER VIII
JEANNE RECEIVES A GIFT AND AN ANNOUNCEMENT
“Great hearts alone understand how much glory there
is in being good. ”
A Saying of Old France.
Isabeau glanced toward the man who was nearing the cottage. He was clad in the
frock of the Order of Saint Francis, and was carrying a heavy staff.
“’Tis one of the Grey Friars,” she exclaimed; “and supper is not yet started. I must hurry to get it upon the table, for he may be hungry.”
“If it is a Grey Friar let him get on to Neufchâteau,” grumbled Jacques. “They have a house there, and ’tis but five miles further on.”
“Jacques,” ejaculated his wife reprovingly, “what are you saying? The poor father may be weary. If he were a man-at-arms you would give him welcome.”
“If he were a man-at-arms he would have something worth hearing to tell,”
retorted Jacques. In spite of his words, however, he rose as the friar came to the door, and saluted him but with scant courtesy.
“Pax vobiscum, my son,” said the friar humbly. “Perchance for the love of G8o
0 d
you will give a poor brother of the Order of the Blessed Francis somewhat to eat, and a place to abide for the night. I have travelled far, and am aweary.”
“Enter, father,” spoke Jacques shortly. “Supper will soon be upon the table, and a bed shall be made for you.”
“Thank you, my son. A benediction upon you, and upon your house,” returned the priest so mildly that Jacques’ manner softened. He was not usually churlish to guests, unbidden though they might be; but he was anxious and uneasy over
his daughter, and her fervid zeal for the church caused him to regard churchmen
with temporary disfavor. At the monk’s tone, however, he threw wide the door and gave him a seat with more show of cordiality.
The friar had scarcely seated himself before Jeanne entered, bearing a flagon of fresh water and a cup which she carried directly to him. Bending low before him she said gently:
“Drink, good father. You must be thirsty.”
“I am, my child.” The Franciscan quaffed the water gratefully, saying, as he gave back the cup: “I have travelled many leagues, even from Rome, where I have been upon a pilgrimage.”
“From Rome?” ejaculated Jacques D’Arc, turning round with eagerness. “Hear you that, Isabeau? The holy man has been to Rome. Hasten with the supper; he
must be hungry.” With this he busied himself to make the priest more comfortable. To make a pilgrimage to Rome cast a glamour of sanctity about him who made it, and exalted him in the eyes of all men.
“THE HOLY MAN HAS BEEN TO ROME”
Jeanne smiled as her father and mother bustled about the friar, and quietly occupied herself with preparations for the supper. It was soon ready, and eaten with all the hearty relish of honest, human hunger. After it was over the best place by the fire was given the friar––already the evenings were beginning to grow chill––and the family gathered around him. As has been said before, in return for their entertainment travellers were expected to regale their hosts with whatsoever news they might be possessed of, or with tales of their travels or adventures. The Franciscan proved to be most agreeable.
He told of his pilgrimage, and described at length the appearance of the holy city. He spoke also of having seen and spoken with the holy Colette of Corbie,
that famous nun whose miracles of healing were then the wonder of the Christian world.
At this they crossed themselves, and were silent for a little from very awe from having among them a man who had been so favored. Then Isabeau, who was devoted to sacred things and saintly legends, said timidly:
“Perchance, good father, you have about you a relic, or a ring that hath been
touched by the blessed Sister Colette?”
“Would that I had,” spoke the friar devoutly. “I would cherish it above all things, but I have not. It is true, however, that I have a ring. It hath not been blessed, nor does it possess power to perform miracles. Nathless, it does have great virtue, having been made by a holy man, and by reason of herbs, which have been curiously intermingled with the metal under the influence of the planets, is a sovereign charm against the Falling Sickness.”
Jacques looked up with quick interest.
“Let us see the ring, messire,” he said. “That is, if it please you.”
“It pleases me right well,” answered the friar, drawing a small ring from the bosom of his frock.
It was of electrum, a kind of brass at this time called the gold of the poor. It was an ordinary trifle, but to the peasant and his family it was rich and wonderful.
