t was wonderful that she said but one bitter thing while
she lived.

From the day that that dreary news came we had one scare after another,
the marauders coming almost to our doors every now and then; so that we
lived in ever-increasing apprehension, and yet were somehow mercifully
spared from actual attack. But at last our turn did really come. This
was in the spring of '28. The Burgundians swarmed in with a great noise,
in the middle of a dark night, and we had to jump up and fly for our
lives. We took the road to Neufchateau, and rushed along in the wildest
disorder, everybody trying to get ahead, and thus the movements of all
were impeded; but Joan had a cool head--the only cool head there--and
she took command and brought order out of that chaos. She did her work
quickly and with decision and despatch, and soon turned the panic flight
into a quite steady-going march. You will grant that for so young a
person, and a girl at that, this was a good piece of work.

She was sixteen now, shapely and graceful, and of a beauty so
extraordinary that I might allow myself any extravagance of language in
describing it and yet have no fear of going beyond the truth. There was
in her face a sweetness and serenity and purity that justly reflected
her spiritual nature. She was deeply religious, and this is a thing
which sometimes gives a melancholy cast to a person's countenance, but
it was not so in her case. Her religion made her inwardly content and
joyous; and if she was troubled at times, and showed the pain of it in
her face and bearing, it came of distress for her country; no part of it
was chargeable to her religion.

A considerable part of our village was destroyed, and when it became
safe for us to venture back there we realized what other people had
been suffering in all the various quarters of France for many years--yes,
decades of years. For the first time we saw wrecked and smoke-blackened
homes, and in the lanes and alleys carcasses of dumb creatures that had
been slaughtered in pure wantonness--among them calves and lambs that had
been pets of the children; and it was pity to see the children lament
over them.

And then, the taxes, the taxes! Everybody thought of that. That burden
would fall heavy now in the commune's crippled condition, and all faces
grew long with the thought of it. Joan said:

"Paying taxes with naught to pay them with is what the rest of France
has been doing these many years, but we never