speeches for those disguised ladies’ maids–but to the Bastard and
La Hire, who are men. Tell them the army is to remain where it is,
and I hold them responsible if this command miscarries. And say
the offensive will be resumed in the morning. You may go, good
sir.”
Then she said to her priest:
“Rise early, and be by me all the day. There will be much work on
my hands, and I shall be hurt between my neck and my shoulder.”
Chapter 22 The Fate of France Decided
WE WERE up at dawn, and after mass we started. In the hall we
met the master of the house, who was grieved, good man, to see
Joan going breakfastless to such a day’s work, and begged her to
wait and eat, but she couldn’t afford the time–that is to say, she
couldn’t afford the patience, she being in such a blaze of anxiety to
get at that last remaining bastille which stood between her and the
completion of the first great step in the rescue and redemption of
France. Boucher put in another plea:
“But think–we poor beleaguered citizens who have hardly known
the flavor of fish for these many months, have spoil of that sort
again, and we owe it to you. There’s a noble shad for breakfast;
wait–be persuaded.”
Joan said:
“Oh, there’s going to be fish in plenty; when this day’s work is done
the whole river-front will be yours to do as you please with.”
“Ah, your Excellency will do well, that I know; but we don’t
require quite that much, even of you; you shall have a month for it
in place of a day. Now be beguiled–wait and eat. There’s a saying
that he that would cross a river twice in the same day in a boat,
will do well to eat fish for luck, lest he have an accident.”
“That doesn’t fit my case, for to-day I cross but once in a boat.”
“Oh, don’t say that. Aren’t you coming back to us?”
“Yes, but not in a boat.”
“How, then?”
“By the bridge.”
“Listen to that–by the bridge! Now stop this jesting, dear General,
and do as I would have done you. It’s a noble fish.”
“Be good then, and save me some for supper; and I will bring one
of those Englishmen with me and he shall have his share.”
“Ah, well, have your way if you must. But he that fasts must
attempt but little and stop early. When shall you be back?”
“When we’ve raised the siege of Orleans. FORWARD!”
We were off. The streets were full of citizens and of groups and
squads of soldiers, but the spectacle was melancholy. There was
not a smile anywhere, but only universal gloom. It was as if some
vast calamity had smitten all hope and cheer dead. We were not
used to this, and were astonished. But when they saw the Maid,
there was an immediate stir, and the eager question flew from
mouth to mouth.
“Where is she going? Whither is she bound?”
Joan heard it, and called out:
“Whither would ye suppose? I am going to take the Tourelles.”
It would not be possible for any to describe how those few words
turned that mourning into joy–into exaltation–into frenzy; and
how a storm of huzzas burst out and swept down the streets in
every direction and woke those corpselike multitudes to vivid life
and action and turmoil in a moment. The soldiers broke from the
crowd and came flocking to our standard, and many of the citizens
ran and got pikes and halberds and joined us. As we moved on, our
numbers increased steadily, and the hurrahing continued–yes, we
moved through a solid cloud of noise, as you may say, and all the
windows on both sides contributed to it, for they were filled with
excited people.
You see, the council had closed the Burgundy gate and placed a
strong force there, under that stout soldier Raoul de Gaucourt,
Bailly of Orleans, with orders to prevent Joan from getting out and
resuming the attack on the Tourelles, and this shameful thing had
plunged the city into sorrow and despair. But that feeling was gone