entirely free.
So the soldier sighed and said he would advertise the mass, but
said he doubted if there was a man in camp that was any more
likely to go to it than he was himself. Then there was another
surprise for him, for Joan said:
“But, dear man, you are going!”
“I? Impossible! Oh, this is lunacy!”
“Oh, no, it isn’t. You are going to the service–twice a day.”
“Oh, am I dreaming? Am I drunk–or is my hearing playing me
false? Why, I would rather go to–”
“Never mind where. In the morning you are going to begin, and
after that it will come easy. Now don’t look downhearted like that.
Soon you won’t mind it.”
La Hire tried to cheer up, but he was not able to do it. He sighed
like a zephyr, and presently said:
“Well, I’ll do it for you, but before I would do it for another, I
swear I–”
“But don’t swear. Break it off.”
“Break it off? It is impossible! I beg you to–to– Why–oh, my
General, it is my native speech!”
He begged so hard for grace for his impediment, that Joan left him
one fragment of it; she said he might swear by his bѓton, the
symbol of his generalship.
He promised that he would swear only by his bѓton when in her
presence, and would try to modify himself elsewhere, but doubted
he could manage it, now that it was so old and stubborn a habit,
and such a solace and support to his declining years.
That tough old lion went away from there a good deal tamed and
civilized–not to say softened and sweetened, for perhaps those
expressions would hardly fit him. No‰l and I believed that when he
was away from Joan’s influence his old aversions would come up
so strong in him that he could not master them, and so wouldn’t go
to mass. But we got up early in the morning to see.
Satan was converted, you see. Well, the rest followed. Joan rode
up and down that camp, and wherever that fair young form
appeared in its shining armor, with that sweet face to grace the
vision and perfect it, the rude host seemed to think they saw the
god of war in person, descended out of the clouds; and first they
wondered, then they worshiped. After that, she could do with them
what she would.
In three days it was a clean camp and orderly, and those barbarians
were herding to divine service twice a day like good children. The
women were gone. La Hire was stunned by these marvels; he could
not understand them. He went outside the camp when he wanted to
swear. He was that sort of a man–sinful by nature and habit, but
full of superstitious respect for holy places.
The enthusiasm of the reformed army for Joan, its devotion to her,
and the hot desire had aroused in it to be led against the enemy,
exceeded any manifestations of this sort which La Hire had ever
seen before in his long career. His admiration of it all, and his
wonder over the mystery and miracle of it, were beyond his power
to put into words. He had held this army cheap before, but his
pride and confidence in it knew no limits now. He said:
“Two or three days ago it was afraid of a hen-roost; one could
storm the gates of hell with it now.”
Joan and he were inseparable, and a quaint and pleasant contrast
they made. He was so big, she so little; he was so gray and so far
along in his pilgrimage of life, she so youthful; his face was so
bronzed and scarred, hers so fair and pink, so fresh and smooth;
she was so gracious, and he so stern; she was so pure, so innocent,
he such a cyclopedia of sin. In her eye was stored all charity and
compassion, in his lightnings; when her glance fell upon you it
seemed to bring benediction and the peace of God, but with his it
was different, generally.
They rode through the camp a dozen times a day, visiting every
corner of it, observing, inspecting, perfecting; and wherever they