THERE WAS NO SMILE ON HIS FACE
It was one of those capitulations, common in those days, by which the Commander of a garrison promised to surrender his fortress by the end of a given time. This promise, however, ceased to be valid should the fortress be relieved before the day fixed for its surrender. So Sire Robert’s own condition was acute, and if the Dauphin were not in a position to come to his relief he himself would be caught in the coils of the enemy. Any promise of deliverance,
however humble, was not to be treated lightly. Therefore, if he did not believe in Jeanne’s announcement he at least listened to it readily. At length he said:
“This matter should be given some thought, my little maid. Where do you bide?
I would speak with you further concerning this.”
There was a stir of surprise among his men, for they noted with amazement that
the Captain addressed the maiden as an equal.
“With Catherine le Royer, the wheelwright’s wife, messire,” answered Jeanne.
“I will speak with you again,” repeated Sire Robert. And Jeanne and Lassois, understanding that the interview was over for this time, withdrew.
Catherine and Henri le Royer were folk of Jeanne’s own humble station. The good dame welcomed the girl warmly, at first for her mother’s sake and then for her own. Jeanne had ever a way with women and girls, and but few days had elapsed ere she had completely won the heart of her hostess by her gentle ways,
her skill in sewing and spinning, and her earnest faith. Together they attended mass at the parish church, spun, sewed, or busied themselves about the house.
Sometimes Jeanne climbed the hill to the royal chapel which adjoined the Governor’s castle, for there was a wonderful image of the Virgin in the crypt of Saint Mary’s before which she loved to pray.
News of her mission, the tidings that a young girl was come, who was appointed
by God to save France spread through the town and surrounding country. The people flocked to see her, and those who came believed, won by her earnestness
and simple sincerity. They were in no uncertainty at all as to her mission. A little mob hung about the cottage door to see her come and go, chiefly to church. The
saying, “France lost by a woman shall be restored by a maid from the Marches
of Lorraine,” was on every lip. And the excitement grew.
Again and again Jeanne sought the Governor, saying:
“I must to the gentle Dauphin. It is the will of Messire, the King of Heaven, that I should wend to the gentle Dauphin. I am sent by the King of Heaven. I must go even if I go on my knees. My Lord Captain, in God’s name, send me to the gentle Dauphin.”
But Sire Robert,––though he listened to her readily enough, and, impressed in spite of himself by her intense fervour, perceived a certain seriousness in the business,––remained deaf to her pleadings. He could not believe. What, a young
girl fair and lovely as was this peasant maid to deliver France? The thing was absurd; and yet––he dared not send her home lest after all there might be truth in what she claimed. And so the matter rested.
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The days dawned and waned, and still the men-at-arms were not provided.
Jeanne shed bitter tears over the delay. She believed so implicitly in her Voices that she could not understand why others did not have the same faith. And the fame of her grew and spread, going out into the country even beyond the valley.
One day, as she was on her way to mass, a young man-at-arms pushed his way
through the crowd which had gathered to see her to have a word with the wonderful peasant maid.
“Well, ma mie,” he said banteringly, “what are you doing here? Must the King
be driven from his Kingdom, and we all turn English?”
“I came hither to the King’s territory, messire, to speak with Sire Robert that he may take me, or cause me to be taken to the Dauphin; but he heeds neither me
nor my words. Notwithstanding, ere mid-Lent I must be before the Dauphin, were I in going to wear my legs to my knees.”
The reply was given with such intent seriousness that the young knight was impressed, and he spoke more gently:
“Know you not, maiden, that Louis, the little son of Charles, hath just been betrothed to the infant daughter of the King of Scotland? King James is to send Madame Margaret to France with an army of six thousand men before
Whitsunday, which, as you know, is in May. What need, therefore, is there for you, a young girl, to go to the Dauphin?”
“I must go to the Dauphin, messire; for no one in the world, no king or duke or daughter of the King of Scotland[6] can restore the realm of France. In me alo 14 n
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is help, albeit for my part, I would far rather be spinning by my poor mother’s side, for this life is not to my liking. But I must go, and so I will, for it is Messire’s command that I should go.”
“Who is Messire?” asked he.
“He is God,” she answered.
The young man was moved. He stretched out his hands suddenly as though he believed in spite of himself, and laid his hands between hers.
“There!” said he. “I, Jean de Novelonpont, commonly called Jean de Metz, pledge you my word, knightly fashion, my hands in your hands in token of fealty, that God helping me I will take you to the King.”
