terward as having
perhaps let a chance pass which might have changed all my life and made
it happier and more beautiful than, alas, it turned out to be. For this
reason I grieve yet, when I think of that scene, and do not like to call
it up out of the deeps of my memory because of the pangs it brings.

Well, well, a good and wholesome thing is a little harmless fun in this
world; it tones a body up and keeps him human and prevents him from
souring. To set that little trap for Catherine was as good and effective
a way as any to show her what a grotesque thing she was asking of Joan.
It was a funny idea now, wasn't it, when you look at it all around? Even
Catherine dried up her tears and laughed when she thought of the English
getting hold of the French Commander-in-Chief's reason for staying out
of a battle. She granted that they could have a good time over a thing
like that.

We got to work on the letter again, and of course did not have to strike
out the passage about the wound. Joan was in fine spirits; but when
she got to sending messages to this, that, and the other playmate and
friend, it brought our village and the Fairy Tree and the flowery plain
and the browsing sheep and all the peaceful beauty of our old humble
home-place back, and the familiar names began to tremble on her lips;
and when she got to Haumette and Little Mengette it was no use, her
voice broke and she couldn't go on. She waited a moment, then said:

"Give them my love--my warm love--my deep love--oh, out of my heart of
hearts! I shall never see our home any more."

Now came Pasquerel, Joan's confessor, and introduced a gallant knight,
the Sire de Rais, who had been sent with a message. He said he was
instructed to say that the council had decided that enough had been done
for the present; that it would be safest and best to be content with
what God had already done; that the city was now well victualed and
able to stand a long siege; that the wise course must necessarily be
to withdraw the troops from the other side of the river and resume the
defensive--therefore they had decided accordingly.

"The incurable cowards!" exclaimed Joan. "So it was to get me away from
my men that they pretended so much solicitude about my fatigue. Take
this message back, not to the council--I have no speeches for those
disguised ladies' maids--but to the Bastard and La Hire, who are men.
Tell them the army is to remain where it is, and I hold them responsible