“She was beautiful, you say?” asked Sir Guy, whose interest was keenly aroused; but who, I saw, was doubtful whether Bertrand had not been deceived by some witchery of fair face and graceful form; for Bertrand, albeit a man of thews and sinews and bold as a lion in fight, was something of the dreamer too, as warriors in all ages have sometimes been.

“Yes—­as an angel of God is beautiful,” he answered, “ask me not of that; for I can tell you nothing.  I know not the hue of her hair or of her eyes, nor what her face was like, nor her form, save that she was tall and very slender; but beautiful—­ah yes!—­with the beauty which this world cannot give; a beauty which silenced every flippant jest, shamed every scoffing thought, turned ridicule into wonder, contempt into reverence.  Whether this wonderful maiden came in truth as a messenger of God or no, at least not one present but saw well that she herself believed heart and soul in her divine commission.”

“And what answer did the Seigneur de Baudricourt make to her?”

“He gazed upon her full for awhile, and then he suddenly asked of her, ‘And when shall all these wonders come to pass?’

“She, with her gaze fixed still a little upwards, answered, ’Before mid-Lent next year shall succour reach him; then will the city of Orleans be in sore straight; but help shall come, and the English shall fly before the sword of the Lord.  Afterwards shall the Dauphin receive consecration at Rheims, and the crown of France shall be set upon his head, in token that he is the anointed of the Lord.’

“‘And who has told you all this, my child?’ asked De Baudricourt then, answering gently, as one speaks within a church.

“‘Mes voix,’ she answered, speaking as one who dreams, and in dreaming listens.

“‘What voices?’ asked De Baudricourt, ’and have you naught but voices to instruct you in such great matters?’

“‘Yes, Sire,’ she answered softly, ’I have seen the great Archangel Michael, his sword drawn in his hand; and I know that he has drawn it for the deliverance of France, and that though he has chosen so humble an instrument as myself, yet that to him and to the Lord of Heaven will he the victory and the glory.’

“When she had thus spoken there was a great silence in the hall, in which might have been heard the fall of a pin, and I vow that whether it were trick of summer sunshine or no, the light about the maiden seemed to grow brighter and brighter.  Her face was just slightly uplifted as one who listens, and upon her lips there was a smile.

“’And I know that you will send me to the Dauphin, Robert de Baudricourt,’ she suddenly said, ‘because my voices tell me so.’

“We all looked at De Baudricourt, who sat chin on hand, gazing at the maiden as though he would read her very soul.  We waited, wondering, for him to speak At last he did.

“’Well, my girl, I will think of all this.  We have till next year, by your own showing, ere these great things shall come to pass.  So get you home, and see what your father and mother say to all this, and whether the Archangel Michael comes again or no.  Go home—­be a good girl, and we will see what we will see.’”