“Dents de Dieu!—­the folly of it is enough to raise the hair on one’s head!  Send a little paysanne to the King with a wild story like hers!  ’Tis enough to make the name of De Baudricourt the laughingstock of the whole country!”

I felt a great throb at heart when I heard these words.  Then the Maid had not forgot!  This time of waiting had not bred either indifference or doubt.  The time appointed was drawing near, and she had come to Vaucouleurs once more, to do that which was required of her!

O, was it not wonderful?  Must not it be of heaven, this thing?  And should we seek to put the message aside as a thing of nought?

Bertrand was already speaking eagerly with his kinsman; but it seemed as though his words did only serve to irritate the Governor the more.  In my heart I was sure that had he been certain the Maid was an impostor, he would have been in no wise troubled or disturbed, but would have contented himself by sharply ordering her to leave the town and return home and trouble him no more.  It was because he was torn by doubts as to her mission that he was thus perturbed in spirit.  He dared not treat her in this summary fashion, lest haply he should be found to be fighting against God; and yet he found it hard to believe that any deliverance for hapless France could come through the hands of a simple, unlettered peasant girl; and he shrank with a strong man’s dislike from making himself in any sort an object of ridicule, or of seeming to give credence to a wild tale of visions and voices, such as the world would laugh to scorn.  So he was filled with doubt and perplexity, and this betrayed itself in gloomy looks and in harsh speech.

“Tush, boy!  You are but an idle dreamer.  I saw before that you were fooled by a pretty face and a silvery voice.  Go to!—­your words are but phantasy!  Who believes in miracles now?”

“If we believe in the power of the good God, shall we not also believe that He can work even miracles at His holy will?”

“Poof—­miracles!—­the dreams of a vain and silly girl!” scoffed De Baudricourt, “I am sick of her name already!”

Then he suddenly turned upon me and spoke.

“Jean de Metz, you are a knight of parts.  You have sense and discretion above your years, and are no featherhead like Bertrand here.  Will you undertake a mission from me to this maiden?  Ask of her the story of her pretended mission.  Seek to discover from her whether she be speaking truth, or whether she be seeking to deceive.  Catch her in her speech if it may be.  See whether the tale she tells hang together, and then come and report to me.  If she be a mad woman, why should I be troubled with her?  She cannot go to the Dauphin yet, come what may.  The melting snows have laid the valleys under water, the roads are impassable; horses would stick fast in the mire, and we are not at the end of winter yet.  She must needs wait awhile, whatever her message may be, but I would have you get speech of her, and straightly question her from me.  Then if it seem well, I can see her again; but if you be willing, you shall do so first.”