talk and exclaim and wonder over the event, and it even made the
town forget the black news of the treaty for two or three hours.
All the women kept hugging and kissing Joan, and praising her,
and crying, and the men patted her on the head and said they
wished she was a man, they would send her to the wars and never
doubt but that she would strike some blows that would be heard of.
She had to tear herself away and go and hide, this glory was so
trying to her diffidence.
Of course the people began to ask us for the particulars. I was so
ashamed that I made an excuse to the first comer, and got privately
away and went back to the Fairy Tree, to get relief from the
embarrassment of those questionings. There I found Joan, but she
was there to get relief from the embarrassment of glory. One by
one the others shirked the inquirers and joined us in our refuge.
Then we gathered around Joan, and asked her how she had dared
to do that thing. She was very modest about it, and said:
“You make a great thing of it, but you mistake; it was not a great
matter. It was not as if I had been a stranger to the man. I know
him, and have known him long; and he knows me, and likes me. I
have fed him through the bars of his cage many times; and last
December, when they chopped off two of his fingers to remind
him to stop seizing and wounding people passing by, I dressed his
hand every day till it was well again.”
“That is all well enough,” said Little Mengette, “but he is a
madman, dear, and so his likings and his gratitude and friendliness
go for nothing when his rage is up. You did a perilous thing.”
“Of course you did,” said the Sunflower. “Didn’t he threaten to kill
you with the ax?”
“Yes.”
“Didn’t he threaten you more than once?”
“Yes.”
“Didn’t you feel afraid?”
“No–at least not much–very little.”
“Why didn’t you?”
She thought a moment, then said, quite simply:
“I don’t know.”
It made everybody laugh. Then the Sunflower said it was like a
lamb trying to think out how it had come to eat a wolf, but had to
give it up.
C‚cile Letellier asked, “Why didn’t you run when we did?”
“Because it was necessary to get him to his cage; else he would kill
some one. Then he would come to the like harm himself.”
It is noticeable that this remark, which implies that Joan was
entirely forgetful of herself and h3er own danger, and had thought
and wrought for the preservation of other people alone, was not
challenged, or criticized, or commented upon by anybody there,
but was taken by all as matter of course and true. It shows how
clearly her character was defined, and how well it was known and
established.
There was silence for a time, and perhaps we were all thinking of
the same thing–namely, what a poor figure we had cut in that
adventure as contrasted with Joan’s performance. I tried to think up
some good way of explaining why I had run away and left a little
girl at the mercy of a maniac armed with an ax, but all of the
explanations that offered themselves to me seemed so cheap and
shabby that I gave the matter up and remained still. But others
were less wise. No‰l Rainguesson fidgeted awhile, then broke out
with a remark which showed what his mind had been running on:
“The fact is, I was taken by surprise. That is the reason. If I had
had a moment to think, I would no more have thought of running
that I would think of running from a baby. For, after all, what is
Th‚ophile Benoist, that I should seem to be afraid of him? Pooh!
the idea of being afraid of that poor thing! I only wish he would
come along now–I’d show you!”
“So do I!” cried Pierre Morel. “If I wouldn’t make him climb this
tree quicker than–well, you’d see what I would do! Taking a