trying to realize this strange and wonderful thing that had
happened, you see.
My mind went travelling back, and presently lighted upon a
picture–a picture which was still so new and fresh in my memory
that it seemed a matter of only yesterday–and indeed its date was
no further back than the first days of January. This is what it was.
A peasant-girl in a far-off village, her seventeenth year not yet
quite completed, and herself and her village as unknown as if they
had been on the other side of the globe. She had picked up a
friendless wanderer somewhere and brought it home–a small gray
kitten in a forlorn and starving condition–and had fed it and
comforted it and got its confidence and made it believe in her, and
now it was curled up in her lap asleep, and she was knitting a
coarse stocking and thinking–dreaming–about what, one may
never know. And now–the kitten had hardly had time to become a
cat, and yet already the girl is General of the Armies of France,
with a prince of the blood to give orders to, and out of her village
obscurity her name has climbed up like the sun and is visible from
all corners of the land! It made me dizzy to think of these things,
they were so out of the common order, and seemed so impossible.
Chapter 10 The Maid’s Sword and Banner
JOAN’S first official act was to dictate a letter to the English
commanders at Orleans, summoning them to deliver up all
strongholds in their possession and depart out of France. She must
have been thinking it all out before and arranging it in her mind, it
flowed from her lips so smoothly, and framed itself into such
vivacious and forcible language. Still, it might not have been so;
she always had a quick mind and a capable tongue, and her
faculties were constantly developing in these latter weeks. This
letter was to be forwarded presently from Blois. Men, provisions,
and money were offering in plenty now, and Joan appointed Blois
as a recruiting-station and depot of supplies, and ordered up La
Hire from the front to take charge.
The Great Bastard–him of the ducal house, and governor of
Orleans–had been clamoring for weeks for Joan to be sent to him,
and now came another messenger, old D’Aulon, a veteran officer, a
trusty man and fine and honest. The King kept him, and gave him
to Joan to be chief of her household, and commanded her to
appoint the rest of her people herself, making their number and
dignity accord with the greatness of her office; and at the same
time he gave order that they should be properly equipped with
arms, clothing, and horses.
Meantime the King was having a complete suit of armor made for
her at Tours. It was of the finest steel, heavily plated with silver,
richly ornamented with engraved designs, and polished like a
mirror.
Joan’s Voices had told her that there was an ancient sword hidden
somewhere behind the altar of St. Catherine’s at Fierbois, and she
sent De Metz to get it. The priests knew of no such sword, but a
search was made, and sure enough it was found in that place,
buried a little way under the ground. It had no sheath and was very
rusty, but the priests polished it up and sent it to Tours, whither we
were now to come. They also had a sheath of crimson velvet made
for it, and the people of Tours equipped it with another, made of
cloth-of-gold. But Joan meant to carry this sword always in battle;
so she laid the showy sheaths away and got one made of leather. It
was generally believed that his sword had belonged to
Charlemagne, but that was only a matter of opinion. I wanted to
sharpen that old blade, but she said it was not necessary, as she
should never kill anybody, and should carry it only as a symbol of
authority.
At Tours she designed her Standard, and a Scotch painter named
James Power made it. It was of the most delicate white boucassin,
with fringes of silk. For device it bore the image of God the Father