Presently she rose and stood, with her head still bowed a little, and
with her arms down and the ends of her fingers lightly laced
together in front of her; and standing so, all drenched with that
wonderful light, and yet apparently not knowing it, she seemed to
listen–but I heard nothing. After a little she raised her head, and
looked up as one might look up toward the face of a giant, and
then clasped her hands and lifted them high, imploringly, and
began to plead. I heard some of the words. I heard her say:
“But I am so young! oh, so young to leave my mother and my
home and go out into the strange world to undertake a thing so
great! Ah, how can I talke with men, be comrade with
men?–soldiers! It would give me over to insult, and rude usage,
and contempt. How can I go to the great wars, and lead armies?–I
a girl, and ignorant of such things, knowing nothing of arms, nor
how to mount a horse, nor ride it. . . . Yet–if it is commanded–”
Her voice sank a little, and was broken by sobs, and I made out no
more of her words. Then I came to myself. I reflected that I had
been intruding upon a mystery of God–and what might my
punishment be? I was afraid, and went deeper into the wood. Then
I carved a mark in the bark of a tree, saying to myself, it may be
that I am dreaming and have not seen this vision at all. I will come
again, when I know that I am awake and not dreaming, and see if
this mark is still here; then I shall know.
Chapter 7 She Delivers the Divine Command
I HEARD my name called. It was Joan’s voice. It startled me, for
how could she know I was there? I said to myself, it is part of the
dream; it is all dream–voice, vision and all; the fairies have done
this. So I crossed myself and pronounced the name of God, to
break the enchantment. I knew I was awake now and free from the
spell, for no spell can withstand this exorcism. Then I heard my
name called again, and I stepped at once from under cover, and
there indeed was Joan, but not looking as she had looked in the
dream. For she was not crying now, but was looking as she had
used to look a year and a half before, when her heart was light and
her spirits high. Her old-time energy and fire were back, and a
something like exaltation showed itself in her face and bearing. It
was almost as if she had been in a trance all that time and had
come awake again. Really, it was just as if she had been away and
lost, and was come back to us at last; and I was so glad that I felt
like running to call everybody and have them flock around her and
give her welcome. I ran to her excited and said:
“Ah, Joan, I’ve got such a wonderful thing to tell you about! You
would never imagine it. I’ve had a dream, and in the dream I saw
you right here where you are standing now, and–”
But she put up her hand and said:
“It was not a dream.”
It gave me a shock, and I began to feel afraid again.
“Not a dream?” I said, “how can you know about it, Joan?”
“Are you dreaming now?”
“I–I suppose not. I think I am not.”
“Indeed you are not. I know you are not. And yow were not
dreaming when you cut the mark in the tree.”
I felt myself turning cold with fright, for now I knew of a certainty
that I had not been dreaming, but had really been in the presence
of a dread something not of this world. Then I remembered that
my sinful feet were upon holy ground–the ground where that
celestial shadow had rested. I moved quickly away, smitten to the
bones with fear. Joan followed, and said:
“Do not be afraid; indeed there is no need. Come with me. We will