“I would I were a man; I would start this minute!” and looked very proud of herself, and glanced about for applause.

“So would I,” said Cecile Letellier, sniffing the air like a war-horse that smells the battle; “I warrant you I would not turn back from the field though all England were in front of me.”

“Pooh!” said the Paladin; “girls can brag, but that’s all they are good for.  Let a thousand of them come face to face with a handful of soldiers once, if you want to see what running is like.  Here’s little Joan—­next she’ll be threatening to go for a soldier!”

The idea was so funny, and got such a good laugh, that the Paladin gave it another trial, and said:  “Why you can just see her!—­see her plunge into battle like any old veteran.  Yes, indeed; and not a poor shabby common soldier like us, but an officer—­an officer, mind you, with armor on, and the bars of a steel helmet to blush behind and hide her embarrassment when she finds an army in front of her that she hasn’t been introduced to.  An officer?  Why, she’ll be a captain!  A captain, I tell you, with a hundred men at her back—­or maybe girls.  Oh, no common-soldier business for her!  And, dear me, when she starts for that other army, you’ll think there’s a hurricane blowing it away!”

Well, he kept it up like that till he made their sides ache with laughing; which was quite natural, for certainly it was a very funny idea—­at that time—­I mean, the idea of that gentle little creature, that wouldn’t hurt a fly, and couldn’t bear the sight of blood, and was so girlish and shrinking in all ways, rushing into battle with a gang of soldiers at her back.  Poor thing, she sat there confused and ashamed to be so laughed at; and yet at that very minute there was something about to happen which would change the aspect of things, and make those young people see that when it comes to laughing, the person that laughs last has the best chance.  For just then a face which we all knew and all feared projected itself from behind the Fairy Tree, and the thought that shot through us all was, crazy Benoist has gotten loose from his cage, and we are as good as dead!  This ragged and hairy and horrible creature glided out from behind the tree, and raised an ax as he came.  We all broke and fled, this way and that, the girls screaming and crying.  No, not all; all but Joan.  She stood up and faced the man, and remained so.  As we reached the wood that borders the grassy clearing and jumped into its shelter, two or three of us glanced back to see if Benoist was gaining on us, and that is what we saw—­Joan standing, and the maniac gliding stealthily toward her with his ax lifted.  The sight was sickening.  We stood where we were, trembling and not able to move.  I did not want to see the murder done, and yet I could not take my eyes away.  Now I saw Joan step forward to meet the man, though I believed my eyes must be deceiving me.  Then I saw him stop.  He threatened her