to his consecration."

Strange words these, to fall from the lips of a young girl. For a moment Baudricourt sat staring at her, wide-eyed, then he asked:

"Who is your Lord?"

"He is the King of Heaven."

This was too much for the rough, practical minded Captain. The walls of the castle rang with his shouts of laughter, and turning to Durand Laxart, who by this time was crimson with shame for his kinswoman, Baudricourt with a gesture of dismissal said, "The girl is foolish. Box her ears and take her home to her father," and there was nothing left for Jeanne to do but to go back to Domrémy until occasion should favour her destiny.

In July the valley was again menaced by the Burgundians, and the people of Domrémy fled for a refuge to a neighbouring city, while in their own little town there was a veritable reign of terror, and news came that the English were also besieging the strong old town of Orléans, which had always been called the "key to the Loire." If this city should fall, only by a miracle could France be saved, and Jeanne's Voices became more and more insistent. She must go at once. She must raise the siege of Orléans, but how?

Again through the aid of Durand Laxart she obtained a second interview with the rough Captain of Vaucouleurs.

Her assertion was as preposterous as before, but this time Baudricourt did not laugh, there was something haunting, powerful, in the girl's mystical manner, and in her dignity of bearing, which puzzled the gruff Captain, and made him listen, but as he offered her no help, the interview was fruitless, and she was obliged to return again to the Laxarts' home, near Vaucouleurs, where while she waited she gave what help she could in the household, but also went often to church, and often partook of the Sacrament, praying for help in her mission. Whoever knew her loved her, and her popularity was so widespread that the people of Vaucouleurs, with a growing belief in her ability to accomplish what no one else could for their beloved country, decided to themselves fit her out for her expedition to the Dauphin, and two knights, De Metz and Poulengy, who had become deeply attached to Jeanne, vowed to go wherever she might lead them.

It was not safe for her to travel in a woman's clothes, so she was provided by the people's gifts, with a close-fitting vest, trunk and hose of black, a short dark grey cloak and a black cap, and her hair was cut after the fashion of men's wearing. Sixteen francs bought a horse for her, and the only bit of her old life she carried with her was a gold ring which her mother and father had given her.

Before starting, Baudricourt's permission had to be obtained, and again Jeanne went to him; this time crying out:

"In God's name, you are too slow for me, for this day the gentle Dauphin has had near Orléans a great loss, and he will suffer greater if you do not send me soon!"

As before, Baudricourt listened to her, and enjoyed watching the play of emotions on her changeful face, but he said nothing either to encourage or to hinder her, and Jeanne knew that without further consent from him she must now go on her journey.

At once she wrote a letter of farewell to her parents asking their forgiveness for doing what she knew would be against their wishes, and telling of the reality of her divine mission as it was revealed to her. She received no answer to this, but there was no attempt made to hinder her, and all preparations having been made, on the evening of the twenty-third of February, before a great crowd of spectators who had gathered to see her leave Vaucouleurs, the slender, calm figure in the page's suit stood ready to leave behind all a young girl should have of loving protection, for the sake of what she conceived to be a sacred mission.

With her men around her, she mounted her horse, and as she halted for a moment before starting,—seeing her dignity and graceful bearing, her men were filled with pride in her,—even Baudricourt himself came down from the castle, and made the men take an oath to guard her with their own lives, then gave her a sword and a letter to the Dauphin.

While they stood there ready to start, a man asked Jeanne:

"How can you hope to make such a journey, and escape the enemy?"

Quick and clear Jeanne's answer rang out, "If the enemy are on my road, I have God with me, who knows how to prepare the way to the Lord Dauphin. I was born to do this."

Then with a swift signal, the solemn little cavalcade rode out into the night, while eyes were strained to see the last of the brave Maid, who conceived it her consecrated duty to go to the aid of the Dauphin, and her well loved land.

On their way towards Chinon where the weak little Dauphin was holding his court, rode Jeanne and her six men, and a dangerous way it was, lying through a country over-run with marauding English and Burgundian warriors, and Jeanne's men were uneasy at escorting so young and fair a maid under such dangerous conditions, but Jeanne herself was unconcerned and fearless as they rode on into the valley of the Loire, noting on every side the devastation done by war and pillage. For greater safety they rode mostly by night, often travelling thirty miles in twenty-four hours,—a pretty severe test of the endurance of a girl of seventeen, unaccustomed to riding or of leading men-at-arms, but her courage and enthusiasm never flagged. With their horses' feet wrapped in cloths to deaden the clatter of hoofs, they went on their way as swiftly as was possible, and day by day the men's devotion to this Maid who was their leader grew deeper, as they saw the purity of her character and the nobility of her purpose.

When they drew near Chinon, Jeanne's men spoke to one another doubtfully of what kind of a reception they would have. Reaching Auxerre they rested for a while, then travelled on to Gien, and as they journeyed, a report went ahead of them, that a young peasant girl called "The Maid" was on her way, so she said, to raise the siege of Orléans and to lead the Dauphin to his crowning at Rheims. Even to Orléans the report spread, and the inhabitants of that besieged city, now despairing of deliverance, felt a thrill of hope on hearing the report.

Meanwhile Jeanne and her escort of six valiant men had halted near Chinon, while Jeanne wrote and despatched a letter to the Dauphin, in which she said that they had ridden one hundred and fifty leagues to bring him good news, and begged permission to enter his province. Then the next morning they rode into "the little town of great renown," as Chinon was called, and Jeanne remained at the Inn until the Dauphin should decide to receive her.

Now Yolande, the King's mother-in-law, was much interested in what she had heard of Jeanne, the Maid, and she so influenced the Dauphin, that De Metz and Poulengy were allowed to have audience with him, and told what a fine and noble character Jeanne was, and what a beautiful spirit animated her slender frame, and begged him to see and trust her, saying that she was surely sent to save France. Their plea made a great impression on the Dauphin, as was evident two hours later when he sent a number of clergymen to cross-question her on her so-called divine mission, and through all the tiresome examination Jeanne bore herself with proud dignity and answered so clearly and so well that they could only entertain a profound respect for the girl whom they had expected to scorn. The result of this examination was that by order of the King, Jeanne was moved from the Inn to a wing of the Castle, and there the girl-soldier was treated with every respect by the courtiers, who were all charmed by her frank simplicity and sweetness of