Well, thus matters went on, quietly enough outwardly, till the Feast of the Nativity had come and gone, and with that feast came a wonderful change in the weather.  The frost yielded, the south wind blew soft, the snow melted away one scarce knew how, and a breath of spring seemed already in the air, though we did not dare to hope that winter was gone for good and all.

It was just when the year had turned that we heard a rumour in the town, and it was in this wise that it reached our ears.  De Baudricourt had been out with his dogs, chasing away the wolves back into their forest lairs.  He had left us some business to attend to for him within the Castle, else should we doubtless have been of the party.  But he was the most sagacious huntsman of the district, and a rare day’s sport they did have, killing more than a score of wolves, to the great joy of the townsfolk and of the country people without the walls.  It was dark ere he got home, and he came in covered with mud from head to foot; the dogs, too, were so plastered over, that they had to be given to the servants to clean ere they could take their wonted places beside the fire; and some of the poor beasts had ugly wounds which needed to be washed and dressed.

But what struck us most was that De Baudricourt, albeit so successful in his hunt, seemed little pleased with his day’s work.  His face was dark, as though a thunder cloud lay athwart it, and he gave but curt answers to our questions, as he stood steaming before the fire and quaffing a great tankard of spiced wine which was brought to him.  Then he betook himself to his own chamber to get him dry garments, and when he came down supper was already served.  He sat him down at the head of the table, still silent and morose; and though he fell with right good will upon the viands, he scarce opened his lips the while, and we in our turn grew silent, for we feared that he had heard the news of some disaster to the French arms, which he was brooding over in silent gloom.

But when the retainers and men-at-arms had disappeared, and we had gathered round the fire at the far end of the hall, as was our wont, then he suddenly began to speak.

“Went ye into the town today?” he suddenly asked of us.

We answered him, Nay, that we had been occupied all day within the Castle over the services there he had left us to perform.

“And have you heard nought of the commotion going on there?”

“We have heard nought.  Pray what hath befallen, good sir?  Is it some disaster?  Hath Orleans fallen into the hands of the English?”

For that was the great fear possessing all loyal minds at this period.

“Nay, it is nought so bad as that,” answered De Baudricourt, “and yet it is bad enough, I trow.  That mad girl from Domremy is now in the town, telling all men that Robert de Baudricourt hath been appointed of God to send her to the Dauphin at Chinon, and that she must needs start thither soon, to do the work appointed her of heaven.