Orders had been issued for the march toward Blois.  It was a clear, sharp, beautiful morning.  As our showy great company trotted out in column, riding two and two, Joan and the Duke of Alencon in the lead, D’Aulon and the big standard-bearer next, and so on, we made a handsome spectacle, as you may well imagine; and as we plowed through the cheering crowds, with Joan bowing her plumed head to left and right and the sun glinting from her silver mail, the spectators realized that the curtain was rolling up before their eyes upon the first act of a prodigious drama, and their rising hopes were expressed in an enthusiasm that increased with each moment, until at last one seemed to even physically feel the concussion of the huzzas as well as hear them.  Far down the street we heard the softened strains of wind-blown music, and saw a cloud of lancers moving, the sun glowing with a subdued light upon the massed armor, but striking bright upon the soaring lance-heads—­a vaguely luminous nebula, so to speak, with a constellation twinkling above it—­and that was our guard of honor.  It joined us, the procession was complete, the first war-march of Joan of Arc was begun, the curtain was up.

Chapter 12 Joan Puts Heart in Her Army

We were at Blois three days.  Oh, that camp, it is one of the treasures of my memory!  Order?  There was no more order among those brigands than there is among the wolves and the hyenas.  They went roaring and drinking about, whooping, shouting, swearing, and entertaining themselves with all manner of rude and riotous horse-play; and the place was full of loud and lewd women, and they were no whit behind the men for romps and noise and fantastics.

It was in the midst of this wild mob that Noel and I had our first glimpse of La Hire.  He answered to our dearest dreams.  He was of great size and of martial bearing, he was cased in mail from head to heel, with a bushel of swishing plumes on his helmet, and at his side the vast sword of the time.

He was on his way to pay his respects in state to Joan, and as he passed through the camp he was restoring order, and proclaiming that the Maid had come, and he would have no such spectacle as this exposed to the head of the army.  His way of creating order was his own, not borrowed.  He did it with his great fists.  As he moved along swearing and admonishing, he let drive this way, that way, and the other, and wherever his blow landed, a man went down.

“Damn you!” he said, “staggering and cursing around like this, and the Commander-in-Chief in the camp!  Straighten up!” and he laid the man flat.  What his idea of straightening up was, was his own secret.