As it was there, so was it here—­the same joy, the same wonder, the same enthusiasm.  The King was greeted with shouts and acclamations, it is true; but the greater admiration and wonder was reserved for the Maid, and he knew it, and smiled, well pleased that it should be so; for at that time his heart was full of a great gratitude and affection, and never did he seek to belittle that which she had wrought on his behalf.

Thankfulness, peace, and happiness shone in the eyes of the Maid as she rode; but there was a nearer and more personal joy in store for her; for as we passed through the town, with many pauses on account of the greatness of the throng, pouring in and out of the churches (for it was the vigil of the Madelaine), or crowding about the King and the Maid, she chanced to lift her eyes to the windows of an inn in the place, and behold her face kindled with a look different from any I had seen there before, and she looked around for me, and beckoning with her hand, she pointed upwards, and cried in tones of strange delight and exultation: 

“My father, fair knight, my father!  I saw his face!”

Now, I knew that Jacques d’Arc had been greatly set against his daughter’s mission, and it had been declared that he had disowned her, and would have withheld her from going forth, had such a thing been within his power.  She had never received any message of love or forgiveness from him all these weeks, though her two younger brothers had joined the army, and were always included in her household.  So that I was not surprised at the kindling of her glance, nor at the next words she spoke.

“Go to him, my friend; tell him that I must needs have speech with him.  Ah, say that I would fain return home with him when my task is done, if it be permitted me.  Go, find him speedily, ere he can betake himself away.  My father!  My father!  I had scarce hoped to look upon his face again!”

So whilst the King and the Maid and their train rode on to the huge old palace of the Archeveche, hard by the Cathedral, I slipped out of my place in the ranks, and passed beneath the archway into the courtyard of the old inn, where the Maid declared that she had seen the face of her father looking forth.

I had not much trouble in finding him; for already a whisper had gone forth that certain friends and relatives of the wonderful Maid had journeyed from Domremy to witness her triumphant entry into Rheims.  Indeed, some of these had followed us from Chalons, all unknown to her, who would so gladly have welcomed them.  Chalons, though a fortified town, and with a hostile garrison, had opened its gates to us without resistance, feeling how hopeless it was to strive against the power of the Maid.

The wonder and awe inspired by her presence, and by her marvellous achievements, had sunk deeply into the spirits of these simple country folk, who had only heretofore known Jeanne d’Arc as a gentle village maiden, beloved of all, but seeming not in any way separated from her companions and friends.  Now they had seen her, white and glistening, in martial array, riding beside a King, an army at her back, acclaimed of the multitude, the idol of the hour, a victor in a three months’ campaign, the like of which never was before, and methinks can never be again.