waves
of black vapour rose and obscured my view. Then, in the midst of
the smoke and vapour, I saw a great pillar of fire, rising up as to
the very sky itself, and out of the fire flew a white dove. Then a
voice spoke--one of my own voices; but in tones different from any
I have heard before--'Have courage, even to death, Jeanne,' it
said, 'for we will still be with you.' Then everything faded once
more, and I heard only the shouting of the people, and knew that
the King had made his decision, and that he had promised to receive
his crown, which has waited for him so long."

As she spoke these last words, the cloud seemed to lift. Her own
wonderful smile shone forth again.

"If this be so; if, indeed, the Dauphin shall be made King, what
matters that I be taken away? My work will end when the crown shall
be set upon his head. Then, indeed, my soul shall say: 'Lord, now
lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace.'"

Her face was suddenly transfigured--radiant--with some great and
glorious thought. I was glad at heart to see that the shadow had
passed entirely away. Only for a moment could any presage of
personal fear cloud the sweet serenity of the Maid's nature. And
yet I went from her something troubled myself; for had I not reason
to know what strange power she possessed of reading the future, and
what did it mean, that confusion of battle, that intermingling of
victory and defeat, that darkness of smoke and blaze of fire, and
the white dove flying forth unscathed? I had heard too often the
shouts of the infuriated English--"We will take you and burn you,
you White Witch! You shall perish in the flames from whence the
devil, your father, has sent you forth!"--not to hear with a
shudder any vision of smoke and of fire. But again, had not the
Maid ever prevailed in battle over her foes? Might she not laugh to
scorn all such threats?

Ah me! It is well that we may not read the future, else how could
we bear the burden of life?

Joyous and triumphant was the day upon which, after some inevitable
delays, we started forth--a goodly company in sooth--an army at our
back, swelling with pride and triumph--to take our young King to
the appointed place, and see the crown of France there set upon his
head. From all quarters news was pouring in of the hopeless
disruption of the power of the English after the Chasse de Patay.
Towns and villages which had submitted in sullen acquiescence
before, now sent messages of loyalty an