re than once to remember those words."

"I were a fool to doubt it. That I know."

"I shall not be at my best, being but a common soldier; still, the
country will hear of me. If I were where I belong; if I were in the
place of La Hire, or Saintrailles, or the Bastard of Orleans--well, I
say nothing. I am not of the talking kind, like Noel Rainguesson and his
sort, I thank God. But it will be something, I take it--a novelty in this
world, I should say--to raise the fame of a private soldier above theirs,
and extinguish the glory of their names with its shadow."

"Why, look here, my friend," I said, "do you know that you have hit out
a most remarkable idea there? Do you realize the gigantic proportions
of it? For look you; to be a general of vast renown, what is that?
Nothing--history is clogged and confused with them; one cannot keep their
names in his memory, there are so many. But a common soldier of
supreme renown--why, he would stand alone! He would the be one moon in a
firmament of mustard-seed stars; his name would outlast the human race!
My friend, who gave you that idea?"

He was ready to burst with happiness, but he suppressed betrayal of it
as well as he could. He simply waved the compliment aside with his hand
and said, with complacency:

"It is nothing. I have them often--ideas like that--and even greater ones.
I do not consider this one much."

"You astonish me; you do, indeed. So it is really your own?"

"Quite. And there is plenty more where it came from"--tapping his head
with his finger, and taking occasion at the same time to cant his morion
over his right ear, which gave him a very self-satisfied air--"I do not
need to borrow my ideas, like Noel Rainguesson."

"Speaking of Noel, when did you see him last?"

"Half an hour ago. He is sleeping yonder like a corpse. Rode with us
last night."

I felt a great upleap in my heart, and said to myself, now I am at rest
and glad; I will never doubt her prophecies again. Then I said aloud:

"It gives me joy. It makes me proud of our village. There is not keeping
our lion-hearts at home in these great times, I see that."

"Lion-heart! Who--that baby? Why, he begged like a dog to be let off.
Cried, and said he wanted to go to his mother. Him a lion-heart!--that
tumble-bug!"

"Dear me, why I supposed he volunteered, of course. Didn't he?"

"Oh, yes, he volunteered the way people do to the headsman. Why, when he
found I was coming up from Domremy to vo