“Myself, I shall be a man-at-arms,” went on Colin boastingly. “I shall wear armour, and ride a horse; and I shall go into France to help drive the Godons[4] out of it.”
Jeanne looked at him with sparkling eyes.
“Yes,” she cried eagerly. “’Tis what should be done. Oh! I would like to go too. Why do they not stay in their own country?”
“You?” Colin began to laugh. “You are a girl, Jeanne D’Arc, and girls go not to war. They can not fight.”
“I could.” A resolute light came into the little maid’s eyes, and her lips set in a firm line. “I know I could.” At this the others joined Colin in his laughter, and the boy cried gaily:
“I should like to see you. Oh, wouldn’t the Godons run when they saw you?”
Jeanne opened her lips to reply, but just then she heard the voice of her mother calling to her. So, shaking her finger at Colin, she rose obediently and went toward the cottage. Near the door stood her father gazing intently at a long rod that he held in his hand. So absorbed was he that he did not heed her approach. The little girl touched him lightly on the arm.
“What is it, father?” she asked gently. “Are you grieving over the cattle and the goods?”
Her father looked up with a start.