ven, a couple of leagues from the
city. Dunois was pleased, for the army had begun to get restive and show
uneasiness now that it was getting so near to the dreaded bastilles. But
that all disappeared now, as the word ran down the line, with a huzza
that swept along the length of it like a wave, that the Maid was come.
Dunois asked her to halt and let the column pass in review, so that the
men could be sure that the reports of her presence was not a ruse to
revive their courage. So she took position at the side of the road with
her staff, and the battalions swung by with a martial stride, huzzaing.
Joan was armed, except her head. She was wearing the cunning little
velvet cap with the mass of curved white ostrich plumes tumbling
over its edges which the city of Orleans had given her the night she
arrived--the one that is in the picture that hangs in the Hotel de Ville
at Rouen. She was looking about fifteen. The sight of soldiers always
set her blood to leaping, and lit the fires in her eyes and brought the
warm rich color to her cheeks; it was then that you saw that she was
too beautiful to be of the earth, or at any rate that there was a subtle
something somewhere about her beauty that differed it from the human
types of your experience and exalted it above them.

In the train of wains laden with supplies a man lay on top of the goods.
He was stretched out on his back, and his hands were tied together with
ropes, and also his ankles. Joan signed to the officer in charge of that
division of the train to come to her, and he rode up and saluted.

"What is he that is bound there?" she asked.

"A prisoner, General."

"What is his offense?"

"He is a deserter."

"What is to be done with him?"

"He will be hanged, but it was not convenient on the march, and there
was no hurry."

"Tell me about him."

"He is a good soldier, but he asked leave to go and see his wife who was
dying, he said, but it could not be granted; so he went without leave.
Meanwhile the march began, and he only overtook us yesterday evening."

"Overtook you? Did he come of his own will?"

"Yes, it was of his own will."

"He a deserter! Name of God! Bring him to me."

The officer rode forward and loosed the man's feet and brought him back
with his hands still tied. What a figure he was--a good seven feet high,
and built for business! He had a strong face; he had an unkempt shock of
black hair which showed up a striking way when the officer r