ltogether less gay and wilful than
she had been, and there seemed to be something that lay heavy on her
mind. When her father asked her if the gossips at the church door had
given her any more tidings of the Maid, she did but frown, and soon left
the chamber, whence my master led me forth into his booth, and bade me
show him my hand in writing. This pleased him not ill, and next I must
grind colours to his liking; and again he went about his business, while
I must mind the booth, and be cap in hand to every saucy page that came
from the castle with an order from his lord.

Full many a time my hand was on my whinger, and yet more often I wished
myself on the free road again, so that I were out of ill company, and
assuredly the Lorrainer Maid, whatever she might be, was scarcely longing
more than I for the day when she should unfurl her banner and march, with
me at her back, to Orleans. For so irksome was my servitude, and the
laying of colours on the ground of banners for my master to paint, and
the copying of books of Hours and Missals, and the insolence of customers
worse born than myself, that I could have drowned myself in the Vienne
water but for the sight of Elliot. Yet she was become staid enough, and
betimes sad; as it seemed that there was no good news of her dear Maid,
for the King would not see her, and all men (it appeared), save those who
had ridden with her, mocked the Pucelle for a bold ramp, with a bee in
her bonnet. But the two gentlemen that had been her escort were staunch.
Their names were Jean de Metz and Bertrand de Poulengy, good esquires.

Of me Elliot made ofttimes not much more account than of her jackanapes,
which was now in very high favour, and waxing fat, so that, when none but
her father could hear her, she would jest and call him La Tremouille.

Yet I, as young men will, was forward in all ways to serve her, and to
win her grace and favour. She was fain to hear of Scotland, her own
country, which she had never seen, and I was as fain to tell her. And
betimes I would say how fair were the maidens of our own country, and how
any man that saw her would know her to be a Scot, though from her tongue,
in French, none might guess it. And, knowing that she loved wildflowers,
I would search for them and bring them to her, and would lead her to
speak of romances which she loved, no less than I, and of pages who had
loved queens, and all such matters as young men and maids are wont to
devise