The reply was given with such intent seriousness that the young knight was impressed, and he spoke more gently:
“Know you not, maiden, that Louis, the little son of Charles, hath just been betrothed to the infant daughter of the King of Scotland? King James is to send Madame Margaret to France with an army of six thousand men before Whitsunday, which, as you know, is in May. What need, therefore, is there for you, a young girl, to go to the Dauphin?”
“I must go to the Dauphin, messire; for no one in the world, no king or duke or daughter of the King of Scotland[6] can 146 restore the realm of France. In me alone is help, albeit for my part, I would far rather be spinning by my poor mother’s side, for this life is not to my liking. But I must go, and so I will, for it is Messire’s command that I should go.”
“Who is Messire?” asked he.
“He is God,” she answered.
The young man was moved. He stretched out his hands suddenly as though he believed in spite of himself, and laid his hands between hers.
“There!” said he. “I, Jean de Novelonpont, commonly called Jean de Metz, pledge you my word, knightly fashion, my hands in your hands in token of fealty, that God helping me I will take you to the King.”
“You will, messire?” cried Jeanne joyfully.
“On my word of honour I promise it. When will you set forth?”
“This hour is better than to-morrow; to-morrow is better than after to-morrow,” she told him, her face illumined with smiles. It was the first gleam of hope that had lightened the weary days of waiting.