“If France deserts her, and she fails, she is none the

less inspired. ”

JEAN GERSON. 1429.

There was feasting in Reims after the coronation. In the Archbishop’s palace the King was served with the princes of the blood and the nobles. The tables stretched to the streets that the people might be served also; all Reims ate, drank, and made merry. But Jeanne, always exceedingly temperate in the matter of eating and drinking, soon slipped away from the festivities. She had other work on hand.

There was a letter to be written to the Duke of Burgundy, the greatest peer of France. Philip, because of the blood feud between him and Charles, had cast his power and influence with Regent Bedford against his own countrymen. Jeanne had written to him before in June at the beginning of the march to Reims, summoning him to the crowning of the King, but had heard from neither letter

nor herald. It was the maiden’s belief that all Frenchmen should unite against

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common enemy, laying aside private griefs that France might be served. She had

no party feeling, and was possessed of a fund of common sense which made her

see what a powerful ally Philip of Burgundy would be. So now she wrote again,

summoning him to renounce his feud with his cousin, the King, and thus to heal

the breach which had divided the realm into two great parties.

“JHESUS MARIA

“High and redoubtable Prince, Duke of Burgundy. Jeanne the Maid

requires on the part of the King of Heaven, my most just sovereign and

Lord, that the King of France and you make peace between yourselves,

firm, strong, and that will endure. Pardon each other of good heart, entirely, as loyal Christians ought to do, and if you desire to fight let it

be against the Saracens. Prince of Burgundy, I pray, supplicate, and

require as humbly as may be, that you fight no longer against the holy kingdom of France: withdraw, at once and speedily, your people who are

in any strongholds or fortresses of the said holy kingdom; and on the part of the gentle King of France, he is ready to make peace with you, having respect to his honor. All those who war against the said holy kingdom of France, war against King Jesus, King of Heaven, and of all

the world and my just and sovereign Lord. And I pray and require with

clasped hands that you fight not, nor make any battle against us, neither

your friends nor your subjects. For however great in numbers may be the

men you lead against us, you will never win, and it would be great pity

for the battle and the blood that would be shed of those who came

against us. Three weeks ago I sent you a letter by a herald that you should be present at the consecration of the King, which to-day, Sunday,

the seventeenth of the present month of July, is done in the city of Reims: to which I have had no answer. To God I commend you, and may

He be your guard if it pleases Him, and I pray God to make good peace.

“Written at the aforesaid Reims, the seventeenth day of July, 1429.

“JEANNE THE MAID.”

So, her mission ended, the girl began to make preparations for her return home

with her father. When she left Vaucouleurs she had taken with her the red homespun dress that she had worn from home, and had always kept it with her.

She brought it forth, and smoothed its folds tenderly.

It was of coarse fabric unlike the brocades and satins of the knight’s suits that she now wore, but Jeanne’s eyes grew misty, and soft, and wistful as she fondled it; the simple frock meant home and mother to her. Presently the members of the Household began to come in to take farewell, for all knew that she felt that her task was finished and that it was her intention to return to Domremy. But it was not to be.

The next day Jeanne sought Charles and asked him of his graciousness to let her depart. Her mission was closed, she told him. She had done the two things that

she was charged to do: the siege of Orléans was raised, and she had led him to

his crowning. She wished now to go back home with her father, and of his

goodness she begged him to let her depart.

The monarch heard her with surprise.

“Go back now, Jeanne?” he exclaimed. “That cannot be. We need you.”

“Nay, gentle King. There is no further need of me. You are crowned, and the towns will receive you joyfully. Whatever of fighting there is to be done the men-at-arms can do.”

“Dear Maid, have you forgot Paris? We are to march there from here, and who

can lead the men-at-arms to the storming so well as you? You will inspire them, give them heart and courage, and frighten the enemy. We cannot do without you

yet, Jeanne. We need you; the country needs you. Stay your departure for yet a

little while we entreat––nay; we command it, Jeanne.”

Her King and her country needed her. That was enough for the girl whose every

heart beat was for France. So sorrowfully she wended her way to The Zebra, the

little inn where Jacques and Durand were stopping.