rgundy."

"And we will!" said Joan.

"Ah? How?"

"At the point of the lance!"

The house rose, to a man--all that had French hearts--and let go a crack
of applause--and kept it up; and in the midst of it one heard La Hire
growl out: "At the point of the lance! By God, that is music!" The King
was up, too, and drew his sword, and took it by the blade and strode to
Joan and delivered the hilt of it into her hand, saying:

"There, the King surrenders. Carry it to Paris."

And so the applause burst out again, and the historical council of war
that has bred so many legends was over.

39 We Win, But the King Balks

IT WAS away past midnight, and had been a tremendous day in the matter
of excitement and fatigue, but that was no matter to Joan when there was
business on hand. She did not think of bed. The generals followed her to
her official quarters, and she delivered her orders to them as fast as
she could talk, and they sent them off to their different commands as
fast as delivered; wherefore the messengers galloping hither and thither
raised a world of clatter and racket in the still streets; and soon were
added to this the music of distant bugles and the roll of drums--notes
of preparation; for the vanguard would break camp at dawn.

The generals were soon dismissed, but I wasn't; nor Joan; for it was my
turn to work, now. Joan walked the floor and dictated a summons to
the Duke of Burgundy to lay down his arms and make peace and exchange
pardons with the King; or, if he must fight, go fight the Saracens.
"Pardonnez-vous l'un--l'autre de bon coeligeur, entierement, ainsi que
doivent faire loyaux chretiens, et, s'il vous plait de guerroyer,
allez contre les Sarrasins." It was long, but it was good, and had the
sterling ring to it. It is my opinion that it was as fine and simple and
straightforward and eloquent a state paper as she ever uttered.

It was delivered into the hands of a courier, and he galloped away with
it. The Joan dismissed me, and told me to go to the inn and stay, and in
the morning give to her father the parcel which she had left there. It
contained presents for the Domremy relatives and friends and a peasant
dress which she had bought for herself. She said she would say good-by
to her father and uncle in the morning if it should still be their
purpose to go, instead of tarrying awhile to see the city.

I didn't say anything, of course, but I could have said that wild horses
couldn't ke