They bowed low to her; every one of them made obeisance.  Yet was there something ironical in the very humility of some?  I could not tell; yet my heart burned within me as I followed our mistress; and never had I known her so silent as she was upon our journey back, or as we sat at supper, the rest of us telling of the day’s doings, but the Maid speechless, save when she bent her head to answer some eager question of little Charlotte’s, or to smile at her childish prattle.

Suddenly the door was flung open, and Sir Guy strode in with a face like a thundercloud.  Behind him came a messenger sent by the Generals to the Maid, and this was the news he brought: 

There had been a council held after dark, and it was then unanimously agreed that all now had been done that was necessary.  The city was provisioned, the power of the English had been greatly weakened and broken.  The army would now be content with the triumphs already won, and would quietly await further reinforcements before taking any fresh step.

The man who brought this message faltered as he delivered it.  The Maid sat very still and quiet, her head lifted in a dignified but most expressive disdain.

“Monsieur,” she replied, when the envoy ceased speaking, “go back to those who sent you.  Tell them that they have had their council and I have had mine.  I leave the city at dawn as I have said.  I return not to it till the siege has been raised.”

The man bowed and retired confusedly.  The Maid lifted the little child in her arms, as was her wont, to carry her to bed.  She turned to her chaplain as she did so: 

“Come to me at dawn, my father, to hear my confession; and I pray you accompany me upon the morrow; for my blood will be shed.  But do not weep or fear for me, my friends, nor spread any banquet for me ere I start forth upon the morrow; but keep all for my return in the evening, when I will come to you by the bridge.”

She was gone as she spoke, and we gazed at her and each other in amaze; for how could she come back by a bridge which had been destroyed, and how did she brook such slights as were heaped upon her without showing anger and hurt pride?

“And there is worse yet to come!” cried Sir Guy in a fury of rage, “for I lingered behind to hear and see.  If you will believe it, there are numbers and numbers of the lesser officers who would desire that the Maid should now be told that her work is done, and that she can retire to her home in Domremy; that the King will come himself with another reinforcing army to raise the siege, so that they may get rid of her, and take the glory to themselves whenever the place shall be truly relieved.  Could you believe such folly, such treachery?”

We could not; we could scarce believe our ears, and right glad was I to hear how that La Hire had had no part in this shameful council; and I hope that Dunois had not either, though I fear me he was less staunch.