s," the priest went on, kindling. "I tell you it was here that
the Maid of France received her visions and set out to work. You see
that village below us--look out through the branches--that is Dom-remy,
where she was born. That spire just at the edge of the wood--you saw
that? It is the basilica they have built to her memory. It is full of
pictures of her. It stands where the old beech-tree, 'Fair May,' used
to grow. There she heard the voices and saw the saints who sent her on
her mission. And this is the Gooseberry Spring, the Well of the Good
Fairies. Here she came with the other children, at the festival of the
well-dressing, to spread their garlands around it, and sing, and eat
their supper on the green. Heavenly voices spoke to her, but the others
did not hear them. Often did she drink of this water. It became a
fountain of life springing up in her heart. I have come to drink at the
same source. It will strengthen me as a sacrament. Come, son, let us
take it together as we go to our duty in battle."

Father Courcy stood up and opened his old black bag. He took out a
small metal cup. He filled it carefully at the spring. He made the sign
of the cross over it.

"In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit," he murmured,
"blessed and holy is this water." Then he held the cup toward the
soldier. "Come, let us share it and make our vows together."

The bright drops trembled and fell from the bottom of the cup. The
soldier sat still, his head in his hands.

"No," he answered, heavily, "I cannot take it. I am not worthy. Can a
man take a sacrament without confessing his sins?"

Father Courcy looked at him with pitying eyes. "I see," he said,
slowly; "I see, my son. You have a burden on your heart. Well, I will
stay with you and try to lift it. But first I shall make my own vow."

He raised the cup toward the sky. A tiny brown wren sang canticles of
rapture in the thicket. A great light came into the priest's face--a
sun-ray from the east, far beyond the tree-tops.

"Blessed Jeanne d'Arc, I drink from thy fountain in thy name. I vow my
life to thy cause. Aid me, aid this my son, to fight valiantly for
freedom and for France. In the name of God, amen."

The soldier looked up at him. Wonder, admiration, and shame were
struggling in the look. Father Courcy wiped the empty cup carefully and
put it back in his bag. Then he sat down beside the soldier, laying a
fatherly hand on his shoulder.

"Now, my son