battle, keep her out of it–don’t let her risk herself–there is no
need–if the men know she is near and looking on, it is all that is
necessary. Keep her out of the fight–don’t fail of this!”
I started on a run, saying, sarcastically–for I was always fond of
sarcasm, and it was said that I had a most neat gift that way:
“Oh, yes, nothing easier than that–I’ll attend to it!”
At the furthest end of the house I met Joan, fully armed, hurrying
toward the door, and she said:
“Ah, French blood is being spilt, and you did not tell me.”
“Indeed I did not know it,” I said; “there are no sounds of war;
everything is quiet, your Excellency.”
“You will hear war-sounds enough in a moment,” she said, and
was gone.
It was true. Before one could count five there broke upon the
stillness the swelling rush and tramp of an approaching multitude
of men and horses, with hoarse cries of command; and then out of
the distance came the muffled deep boom!–boom-boom!–boom!
of cannon, and straightway that rushing multitude was roaring by
the house like a hurricane.
Our knights and all our staff came flying, armed, but with no
horses ready, and we burst out after Joan in a body, the Paladin in
the lead with the banner. The surging crowd was made up half of
citizens and half of soldiers, and had no recognizedleader. When
Joan was seen a huzza went up, and she shouted:
“A horse–a horse!”
A dozen saddles were at her disposal in a moment. She mounted, a
hundred people shouting:
“Way, there–way for the MAID OF ORLEANS!” The first time
that that immortal name was ever uttered–and I, praise God, was
there to hear it! The mass divided itself like the waters of the Red
Sea, and down this lane Joan went skimming like a bird, crying,
“Forward, French hearts–follow me!” and we came winging in her
wake on the rest of the borrowed horses, the holy standard
streaming above us, and the lane closing together in our rear.
This was a different thing from the ghastly march past the dismal
bastilles. No, we felt fine, now, and all awhirl with enthusiasm.
The explanation of this sudden uprising was this. The city and the
little garrison, so long hopeless and afraid, had gone wild over
Joan’s coming, and could no longer restrain their desire to get at
the enemy; so, without orders from anybody, a few hundred
soldiers and citizens had plunged out at the Burgundy gate on a
sudden impulse and made a charge on one of Lord Talbot’s most
formidable fortresses–St. Loup–and were getting the worst of it.
The news of this had swept through the city and started this new
crowd that we were with.
As we poured out at the gate we met a force bringing in the
wounded from the front. The sight moved Joan, and she said:
“Ah, French blood; it makes my hair rise to see it!”
We were soon on the field, soon in the midst of the turmoil. Joan
was seeing her first real battle, and so were we.
It was a battle in the open field; for the garrison of St. Loup had
sallied confidently out to meet the attack, being used to victories
when “witches” were not around. The sally had been reinforced by
troops from the “Paris” bastille, and when we approached the
French were getting whipped and were falling back. But when
Joan came charging through the disorder with her banner
displayed, crying “Forward, men–follow me!” there was a change;
the French turned about and surged forward like a solid wave of
the sea, and swept the English before them, hacking and slashing,
and being hacked and slashed, in a way that was terrible to see.
In the field the Dwarf had no assignment; that is to say, he was not
under orders to occupy any particular place, therefore he chose his
place for himself, and went ahead of Joan and made a road for her.
It was horrible to see the iron helmets fly into fragments under his
dreadful ax. He called it cracking nuts, and it looked like that. He