It was towards the beginning of Lent, as Poulengy tells us, that the decision was made, and she left home finally, to go “to France” as is always said.  But it seems to have been in January that she set out once more for Vaucouleurs, accompanied by her uncle, who took her to the house of some humble folk they knew, a carter and his wife, where they lodged.  Jeanne wore her peasant dress of heavy red homespun, her rude heavy shoes, her village coif.  She never made any pretence of ladyhood or superiority to her class, but was always equal to the finest society in which she found herself, by dint of that simple good faith, sense, and seriousness, without excitement or exaggeration, and radiant purity and straightforwardness which were apparent to all seeing eyes.  By this time all the little world about knew something of her purpose and followed her every step with wonder and quickly rising curiosity:  and no doubt the whole town was astir, women gazing at their doors, all on her side from the first moment, the men half interested, half insolent, as she went once more to the chateau to make her personal appeal.  Simple as she was, the bonne douce fille was not intimidated by the guard at the gates, the lounging soldiers, the no doubt impudent glances flung at her by these rude companions.  She was inaccessible to alarms of that kind—­which, perhaps, is one of the greatest safeguards against them even in more ordinary cases.  We find little record of her second interview with Baudricourt.  The Journal du Siege d’Orleans and the Chronique de la Pucelle both mention it as if it had been one of several, which may well have been the case, as she was for three weeks in Vaucouleurs.  It is almost impossible to arrange the incidents of this interval between her arrival there and her final departure for Chinon on the 23d February, during which time she made a pilgrimage to a shrine of St. Nicolas and also a visit to the Duke of Lorraine.  It is clear, however, that she must have repeated her demand with such stress and urgency that the Captain of Vaucouleurs was a much perplexed man.  It was a very natural idea then, and in accordance with every sentiment of the time that he should suspect this wonderful girl, who would not be daunted, of being a witch and capable of bringing an evil fate on all who crossed her.  All thought of boxing her ears must ere this have departed from his mind.  He hastened to consult the cure, which was the most reasonable thing to do.  The cure was as much puzzled as the Captain.  The Church, it must be said, if always ready to take advantage afterwards of such revelations, has always been timid, even sceptical about them at first.  The wisdom of the rulers, secular and ecclesiastic, suggested only one thing to do, which was to exorcise, and perhaps to overawe and frighten, the young visionary.  They paid a joint and solemn visit to the carter’s house, where no doubt their entrance together was spied by many eager eyes; and there the priest solemnly