She was hustled from the room by the frightened attendants, who feared for her very life at the hands of their irate lord.  He had done many a man to death for less than such counsel.  But the Maid felt not fear.

“He cannot touch me,” she said, “I have my Lord’s work yet to accomplish.”

And in truth the Duke wished her no ill, though he asked not to see her more.  Perhaps—­who knows—­these words may have aroused in him some gleams of penitence for his past life.  I have heard he made a better end than was expected of him when his time came.  And before the Maid left the Castle he sent her a present of money, and said he might even send his son to help the Dauphin, if once Orleans were relieved, and her words began to fulfil themselves.

So then we journeyed home again, and we reached Vaucouleurs on the afternoon of the twelfth day of February.  The Maid had been smiling and happy up till that time, and, since the weather was improving, we had great hopes of soon starting forth upon the journey for Chinon.  Nevertheless, the streams were still much swollen, and in some places the ground was so soft that it quaked beneath our horses’ feet.  We travelled without misadventure, however, and I wondered what it was that brought the cloud to the brow of the Maid as we drew nearer and nearer to Vaucouleurs.

But I was to know ere long; for as we rode into the courtyard of the Castle the Maid slipped from her horse ere any could help her, and went straight into the room where the Governor was sitting, with her fearless air of mastery.

“My lord of Baudricourt, you do great ill to your master the Dauphin in thus keeping me from him in the time of his great need.  Today a battle has been fought hard by the city of Orleans, and the arms of the French have suffered disaster and disgrace.  If this go on, the hearts of the soldiers will be as water, the purpose of the Lord will be hindered, and you, Seigneur, will be the cause, in that you have not hearkened unto me, nor believed that I am sent of Him.”

“How know you the thing of which you speak, girl?” asked De Baudricourt, startled at the firmness of her speech.

“My voices have told me,” she answered; “voices that cannot lie.  The French have met with disaster.  The English have triumphed, and I still waste my time in idleness here!  How long is this to continue, Robert de Baudricourt?”

A new note had come into her voice—­the note of the general who commands.  We heard it often enough later; but this was the first time I had noted it.  How would De Baudricourt take it?

“Girl,” he said, “I will send forth a courier at once to ride with all speed to the westward.  If this thing be so, he will quickly meet some messenger with the news.  If it be as you have said, if this battle has been fought and lost, then will I send you forth without a day’s delay to join the King at Chinon.”

“So be it,” answered the Maid; and turned herself to the chapel, where she spent the night in prayer.