This was the puzzle, of course.  But surely the Church had power to discern betwixt the wiles of the Evil One and the finger of God.  There were words and signs which any possessed of the Devil must needs fly before.  I could not think that the Church need fear deception, even though a village maid might be deceived.

The forest was very beautiful that day, albeit travelling was something slow, owing to the softness of the ground, and the swollen condition of the brooks, which often forced us to go round by the bridges instead of taking the fords; so that we halted a few miles from Domremy to bait our horses and to appease our own hunger, for by that time our appetite was sharp set.

It was there, as we sat at table, and talked with mine host, that we heard somewhat more of this Maid, whom we had started forth in hopes to see.

Bertrand was known for the kinsman of De Baudricourt and all the countryside knew well the tale, how that Jeanne d’Arc had gone to him in the springtide of the year, demanding an escort to the Dauphin King of France, for whom she had a message from the King of Heaven, and whom she was to set upon his throne.

“When she came home again, having accomplished nothing,” spoke the innkeeper, leaning his hands upon the table and greatly enjoying the sound of his own voice, “all the village made great mock of her!  They called her the King’s Marshal, the Little Queen, Jeanne the Prophetess, and I know not what beside.  Her father was right wroth with her.  Long ago he had a dream about her, which troubled him somewhat, as he seemed to see his daughter in the midst of fighting men, leading them on to battle.”

“Did he dream that?  Surely that is something strange for the vision of a village prud’homme anent his little daughter.”

“Ay truly, though at the time he thought little of it, but when all this came to pass he recalled it again; and he smote Jeanne upon the ear with his open hand, and bid her return to her needle and her household tasks, and think no more of matters too great for her.  Moreover, he declared that if ever she were to disgrace herself by mingling with men-at-arms, he would call upon her brothers to drown her, and if they disobeyed him, he would take and do it with his own hands!”

“A Spartan father, truly!” murmured Bertrand.

“O ay—­but he is a very honest man, is Jacques d’Arc; and he was very wroth at all the talk about his daughter, and he vowed she should wed an honest man, as she is now of age to do, and so forget her dreams and her visions, and take care of her house and her husband and the children the good God should send them—­like other wedded wives.”

“Then has she indeed wedded?” asked Bertrand earnestly.