And yet in three months’ time what had not been accomplished!

The King was riding into the ancient city of Rheims, to be crowned King of France; Orleans was relieved; a score of fortresses had been snatched from the hands of the English.  These were fleeing from us in all directions back to Paris; where they hoped to make a stand against us, but were in mortal fear of attack; and now it was our soldiers who clamoured to be led against the English—­the English who fled helter-skelter before the rush and the dash of the men whom heretofore they had despised.

And all this was the work of yonder marvellous Maid—­a girl of seventeen summers, who, clad in white armour, shining like an angelic vision, was riding at the King’s side towards the city.

He turned and looked at her at the moment my gaze was thus arrested, and I saw his face change.  He put out his hand and touched hers gently; but he had to touch her twice and to speak twice ere she heard or knew.

“Jeanne—­fairest maiden—­what do you see?”

She turned her gaze upon him—­radiant, misty, marvellous.

“I see the Land of Promise,” she answered, speaking very low, yet so clearly that I heard every word.  “The chosen of the Lord will go forward to victory.  He will drive out the enemy before the face of him upon whom He shall set the crown of pure gold.  France shall prosper—­her enemies shall be confounded.  What matter whose the work, or whose the triumph?  What matter who shall fall ere the task be accomplished—­so that it be done according to the mind of the Lord?”

“And by the power of the Maid—­the Deliverer!” spoke the King, a gush of gratitude filling his heart, as he looked first at the slight figure and inspired face of the Maid, and then at the city towards which we were riding, the faint clash of joy bells borne softly to our ears.  “For to you, O my General, I owe it all; and may the Lord judge betwixt us twain if I share not every honour that I may yet win with her who has accomplished this miracle!”

But her gaze was full of an inexplicable mystery.

“Nay, gentle Dauphin, but that will not be,” she said; “One shall increase, another shall decrease—­hath it not ever been so?  My task is accomplished.  My work is done.  Let another take my place after tomorrow, for my mission will be accomplished.”

“Never!” cried the King firmly and earnestly, and when I heard him thus speak my heart rejoiced; for I, no more than others, believed that success could attend the King’s further efforts without her who was the inspiration of the army, and the worker of these great miracles which had been wrought.  How often have I wondered since—­but that is no part of my story.  Let me tell those things which did happen to us.

How can I tell of our entry into Rheims?  Have I not spoken in other places of other such scenes, often in the early dusk of evening, when whole cities flocked out to meet the Maid, to gaze in awe and wonder upon her, to kiss her hands, her feet, her knees, the neck and flanks of the horse she rode, and even his very footprints in the road, as he moved along with his precious burden?