“I have heard it,” admitted Durand slowly. “What then, Jeanne?”
“I am that Maid, Uncle Durand. I shall save France.” She spoke in a tone of quiet conviction.
The man drew a long breath and stared at her. He had known the maid all her short life. Knew of her good deeds, her purity and truthfulness; knew that all that could be urged against her was the fault of going to church too frequently. So 102 now, as he noted the clearness of her eyes and the calmness of her manner, he told himself that she believed what she said, and that whatever might be the nature of her affliction it was not madness.
“You must believe me, uncle,” spoke the girl pleadingly, “Have I not always been truthful?”
He nodded.
“I am so now. I am called of God to win back France from her enemies, and to lead the Dauphin to be crowned King at Reims. I go to the Captain of Vaucouleurs that he may grant men to me to take me to the gentle Dauphin. Will you take me to Sire Robert?”
Lassois did not reply. He could not. He stood for a long moment utterly incapable of speech. Jeanne went on in her soft, clear accents to tell him of her mission and of its divine origin. She was so earnest, she spoke with such assurance of the charge that had been laid upon her that in spite of himself Durand believed her. To the natural mind the wonder is not that angelic visitors come to the pure and good, but that they come so seldom. He leaned forward suddenly, and said:
“I’ll take you to Vaucouleurs, ma mie, if you wish to go. Jacques won’t like it, though. Have you thought of that?”
“I know, uncle, but it is the will of God. I must go,” she told him.
Involuntarily Lassois crossed himself. There was such a look of exaltation about the maiden that he felt as though he were in church.