d love to the King. Men
flocked daily to join our standard as we marched. It was a sight to
see the villagers come forth, clad in their holiday dress, eager to
see and pay homage to the King, but yet more eager to look upon the
white mailed figure at his side and shout aloud the name of THE
MAID OF ORLEANS!

For the place of honour at the King's right hand was reserved for
the Maid, and she rode beside him without fear, without protest,
without shame. Gentle, humble, and simple as she always was, she
knew herself the Messenger of a greater King than that of France,
and the honour done to her she accepted as done to her Lord, and
never faltered beneath it, as she was never puffed up or made
haughty or arrogant thereby. Nor did she ever lose her tenderness
of heart, nor her quick observation of trivial detail in the
absorbing interests of her greatness.

She was the first to note signs of distress upon the part of the
soldiers, during this march in the midsummer heat. It was she who
would suggest a halt in the noontide, in some wooded spot, that
"her children" might rest and refresh themselves, and it was she
who, never tired herself, would go amongst them, asking them of
their well being, and bringing with her own hands some luscious
fruit or some cooling draught to any soldier who might be suffering
from the effects of the sun.

She who rode beside a King, who was the greatest and most renowned
of that great company, would minister with her own hands to the
humblest of her followers; and if ever King or Duke or courtier
jested or remonstrated with her on the matter, her answer was
always something like this:

"They are my own people. I am one of them. At home when any was
sick in the village, I was always sent for. And wherefore not now?
I am the same as I was then. Soon I shall be going back to them, my
task accomplished. Wherefore should I not be their friend and
sister still?"

Then all would laugh to think of the Maid of Orleans going back to
take up the life of a peasant again at Domremy; but the Maid's face
grew grave and earnest as she would make reply:

"Indeed, if my work for my King is accomplished, I would fain do
so. I was so happy, so happy in my sweet home."

But now our triumphal march was suddenly brought to a halt; for we
were approaching the town of Troyes--a place of ill omen to France,
and to the young King in particular, for there the shameful treaty
was signed which robbed him of his cro