cancer, and they never knew what was the matter with him till he
died, and he didn’t know himself. It is wonderful how gifts and
diseases can be concealed in that way. All that was necessary in
my case was for this lovely and inspiring girl to cross my path, and
out came the poem, and no more trouble to me to word it and
rhyme it and perfect it than it is to stone a dog. No, I should have
said it was not in me; but it was.
The boys couldn’t say enough about it, they were so charmed and
astonished. The thing that pleased them the most was the way it
would do the Paladin’s business for him. They forgot everything in
their anxiety to get him shelved and silenced. No‰l Rainguesson
was clear beside himself with admiration of the poem, and wished
he could do such a thing, but it was out of his line, and he couldn’t,
of course. He had it by heart in half an hour, and there was never
anything so pathetic and beautiful as the way he recited it. For that
was just his gift–that and mimicry. He could recite anything better
than anybody in the world, and he could take of La Hire to the very
life–or anybody else, for that matter. Now I never could recite
worth a farthing; and when I tried with this poem the boys
wouldn’t let me finish; they would nave nobody but No‰l. So then,
as I wanted the poem to make the best possible impression on
Catherine and the company, I told No‰l he might do the reciting.
Never was anybody so delighted. He could hardly believe that I
was in earnest, but I was. I said that to have them know that I was
the author of it would be enough for me. The boys were full of
exultation, and No‰l said if he could just get one chance at those
people it would be all he would ask; he would make them realize
that there was something higher and finer than war-lies to be had
here.
But how to get the opportunity–that was the difficulty. We
invented several schemes that promised fairly, and at last we hit
upon one that was sure. That was, to let the Paladin get a good
start in a manufactured battle, and then send in a false call for him,
and as soon as he was out of the room, have No‰l take his place
and finish the battle himself in the Paladin’s own style, imitated to
a shade. That would get great applause, and win the house’s favor
and put it in the right mood to hear the poem. The two triumphs
together with finish the Standard-Bearer–modify him, anyway, to
a certainty, and give the rest of us a chance for the future.
So the next night I kept out of the way until the Paladin had got his
start and was sweeping down upon the enemy like a whirlwind at
the head of his corps, then I stepped within the door in my official
uniform and announced that a messenger from General La Hire’s
quarters desired speech with the Standard-Bearer. He left the
room, and No‰l took his place and said that the interruption was to
be deplored, but that fortunately he was personally acquainted with
the details of the battle himself, and if permitted would be glad to
state them to the company. Then without waiting for the
permission he turned himself to the Paladin–a dwarfed Paladin, of
course–with manner, tones, gestures, attitudes, everything exact,
and went right on with the battle, and it would be impossible to
imagine a more perfectly and minutely ridiculous imitation than he
furnished to those shrieking people. They went into spasms,
convulsions, frenzies of laughter, and the tears flowed down their
cheeks in rivulets. The more they laughed, the more inspires No‰l
grew with his theme and the greater marvels he worked, till really
the laughter was not properly laughing any more, but screaming.
Blessedest feature of all, Catherine Boucher was dying with
ecstasies, and presently there was little left of her but gasps and
suffocations. Victory? It was a perfect Agincourt.