Thy brows receive the aureole of her sky;
The Heart created thee––thou canst not die. ”
SCHILLER, “The Maid of Orléans. ”
Jeanne stayed at her uncle’s house with Aveline until the latter was quite well.
Then, there being nothing further to hinder, she asked Lassois to take her to Vaucouleurs.
“Jacques won’t like it, Jeanne,” feebly remonstrated Durand, knowing full well
that notwithstanding the fact he would do as his niece wished. “He didn’t before, you know; and neither did Isabeau.”
“I must go, Uncle Durand. Though I had a hundred fathers, or a hundred mothers, though I were the daughter of a King, I still should go. It is commanded.”
Durand made no further objection, though he knew that both Jacques a 14 n
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Isabeau would censure him for yielding to her. He saw that Jeanne was not to be turned from her purpose, so made ready for the journey. Perhaps, like Jacques, he relied on the common sense of the Sire Robert to send the girl home, for he
was cheerful enough when presently they were on their way to Vaucouleurs.
“You will return with me, Jeanne? This visit is for the day only, is it not?”
“No, uncle. I shall stay in Vaucouleurs until the Sire Captain gives me men-at-
arms to take me to the Dauphin.”
“And if he does not? What then?”
“He will in time, Uncle Durand. My Voices have said so,” responded the maiden
confidently.
Lassois sat for a time without speaking. There was as much awe as affection in
the regard he bore his young kinswoman, and when she wore a look of exaltation
as on this morning he felt as he did at the ringing of the angelus. But there was a practical side to the affair to be looked after as well as a spiritual, and he wished to be able to put the best face possible on the matter before Jacques; so after a little he queried:
“And where shall you bide at Vaucouleurs? Have you thought of that?”
“Why, yes, uncle. Mother has a friend, one Catherine le Royer, who lives in the town. I shall go to her. I am sure that she will give me welcome for mother’s sake.”
“Now that is well,” spoke Lassois in relieved tones. “I know Catherine, and her husband also. Henri le Royer, the wheelwright, he is. Good people they are, and pious.”
By this time they had reached the little walled town nestling among the low hills of the valley, and again Jeanne passed up the steep slopes of the hill upon which the castle stood.
As before when she had gone to him Robert de Baudricourt sat at meat with his
captains. There was no smile on his face this time, however, when, in answer to the request that they might speak with him Jeanne and her uncle were ushered into the great dining hall. No smile, though Lassois was awkward and ill at ease, and Jeanne still wore the red homespun dress, and the village coif of the peasant.
There was not the least flicker of amusement in his countenance as he said:
“Well, my little maid, what brings thee here this time?”
Jeanne courtesied low before she replied:
“My Lord Captain, know that God has commanded me many times to go to the
gentle Dauphin, who must be and who is the true King of France, that he shall
grant me men-at-arms with whom I shall raise the siege at Orléans, and take him
to his anointing at Reims. And you, Sire Captain, must send or take me to him. It is commanded.”
For a long time Robert de Baudricourt sat silent, regarding the maiden with a troubled look. She was so earnest, was evidently so sincere in her demand, that he was perplexed. Was she inspired, or possessed? That was what his expression
said as he gazed at her. If inspired her aid was not to be despised. If possessed she ought to be dealt with forthwith. In truth he knew not what to say to her. His own situation was far from pleasant. When Antoine de Vergy had raged through
the valley the previous Summer he had infested the town of Vaucouleurs, and de
Baudricourt had been obliged to yield it to him, though he had not yet given possession.
