ling, so little discouragement, and, above all, so
little swearing. And this, in particular, was the doing of the
Maid. For habit is strong with us all, and when things went amiss
the oath would rise to the lips of the men about her, and be
uttered without a thought.

But that was a thing she could not bear. Her sweet pained face
would be turned upon the speaker. Her clear, ringing tones would
ask the question:

"Shall we, who go forward in the name of the Lord, dare to take His
holy name lightly upon our lips? What are His own words? Swear not
at all. Shall we not seek to obey Him? Are we not vowed to His
service? And must not the soldier be obedient above all others?
Shall we mock Him by calling ourselves His followers, and yet doing
that without a thought which He hath forbidden?"

Not once nor twice, but many times the Maid had to speak such words
as these; but she never feared to speak them, and her courage and
her purity of heart and life threw its spell over the rough men she
had led, and they became docile in her hands like children, ready
to worship the very ground she trod on.

Long afterwards it was told me by one of mine own men-at-arms that
there had been a regular plot amongst the rougher of the soldiers
at the outset to do her a mischief, and to sell her into the hands
of the Burgundians or the English. But even before leaving
Vaucouleurs the men had wavered, half ashamed of their own doubts
and thoughts, and before we had proceeded two days' journey
forward, all, to a man, would have laid down their lives in her
service.

The only matter that troubled the Maid was that we were unable to
hear Mass, as she longed to do daily. The risk of showing ourselves
in town or village was too great. But there came a night, when, as
we journeyed, we approached the town of Fierbois, a place very well
known to me; and when we halted in a wood with the first light of
day, and the wearied soldiers made themselves beds amid the dried
fern and fallen leaves, I approached the Maid, who was gazing
wistfully towards the tapering spire of a church, visible at some
distance away, and I said to her:

"Gentle Maid, yonder is the church of Sainte Catherine at Fierbois,
and there will be, without doubt, early Mass celebrated within its
walls. If you will trust yourself with Bertrand and myself, I trow
we could safely convey you thither, and bring you back again, ere
the day be so far advanced that the world will be astir to