The conversation passed from the lad’s mind, but it was otherwise with Jacques D’Arc. He had heard his daughter’s words, “We will go together, Pierrelot,” and they troubled him.
The following morning he appeared at the breakfast table scowling and taciturn, making but small pretence at eating. Presently he pushed back from the table. His wife glanced at him with solicitude.
“What ails you, Jacques?” she queried. “Naught have you 96 eaten, which is not wise. You should not begin the day’s work upon an empty stomach.”
“Shall I get you some fresh water, father?” asked Jeanne.
Jacques turned upon her quickly, and with such frowning brow that, involuntarily, she shrank from him.
“Hark you,” he said. “I dreamed of you last night.”
“Of me, father?” she faltered.
“Yes. I dreamed that I saw you riding in the midst of men-at-arms.”
At this both Jean and Pierre laughed.
“Just think of Jeanne being with soldiers,” exclaimed Jean. “Why, she would run at sight of a Godon.”