Chapter 39 We Win, But the King Balks

It was away past midnight, and had been a tremendous day in the matter of excitement and fatigue, but that was no matter to Joan when there was business on hand.  She did not think of bed.  The generals followed her to her official quarters, and she delivered her orders to them as fast as she could talk, and they sent them off to their different commands as fast as delivered; wherefore the messengers galloping hither and thither raised a world of clatter and racket in the still streets; and soon were added to this the music of distant bugles and the roll of drums—­notes of preparation; for the vanguard would break camp at dawn.

The generals were soon dismissed, but I wasn’t; nor Joan; for it was my turn to work, now.  Joan walked the floor and dictated a summons to the Duke of Burgundy to lay down his arms and make peace and exchange pardons with the King; or, if he must fight, go fight the Saracens.  “Pardonnez-vous l’un ... l’autre de bon coeligeur, entierement, ainsi que doivent faire loyaux chretiens, et, s’il vous plait de guerroyer, allez contre les Sarrasins.”  It was long, but it was good, and had the sterling ring to it.  It is my opinion that it was as fine and simple and straightforward and eloquent a state paper as she ever uttered.

It was delivered into the hands of a courier, and he galloped away with it.  The Joan dismissed me, and told me to go to the inn and stay, and in the morning give to her father the parcel which she had left there.  It contained presents for the Domremy relatives and friends and a peasant dress which she had bought for herself.  She said she would say good-by to her father and uncle in the morning if it should still be their purpose to go, instead of tarrying awhile to see the city.

I didn’t say anything, of course, but I could have said that wild horses couldn’t keep those men in that town half a day.  They waste the glory of being the first to carry the great news to Domremy—­the taxes remitted forever!—­and hear the bells clang and clatter, and the people cheer and shout?  Oh, not they.  Patay and Orleans and the Coronation were events which in a vague way these men understood to be colossal; but they were colossal mists, films, abstractions; this was a gigantic reality!

When I got there, do you suppose they were abed!  Quite the reverse.  They and the rest were as mellow as mellow could be; and the Paladin was doing his battles in great style, and the old peasants were endangering the building with their applause.  He was doing Patay now; and was bending his big frame forward and laying out the positions and movements with a rake here and a rake there of his formidable sword on the floor, and the peasants were stooped over with their hands on their spread knees observing with excited eyes and ripping out ejaculations of wonder and admiration all along: