“I will serve you!”—“you shall fight for France—”
“I will fight for you!”
“You shall be France’s soldier—”
“I will be your soldier!”—“you shall give all your heart to France—”
“I will give all my heart to you—and all my soul, if I have one—and all my strength, which is great—for I was dead and am alive again; I had nothing to live for, but now I have! You are France for me. You are my France, and I will have no other.”
Joan smiled, and was touched and pleased at the man’s grave enthusiasm—solemn enthusiasm, one may call it, for the manner of it was deeper than mere gravity—and she said:
“Well, it shall be as you will. What are you called?”
The man answered with unsmiling simplicity:
“They call me the Dwarf, but I think it is more in jest than otherwise.”
It made Joan laugh, and she said: