THE TROOPS must have a rest. Two days would be allowed for this.

The morning of the 14th I was writing from Joan's dictation in a small
room which she sometimes used as a private office when she wanted to get
away from officials and their interruptions. Catherine Boucher came in
and sat down and said:

"Joan, dear, I want you to talk to me."

"Indeed, I am not sorry for that, but glad. What is in your mind?"

"This. I scarcely slept last night, for thinking of the dangers you are
running. The Paladin told me how you made the duke stand out of the way
when the cannon-balls were flying all about, and so saved his life."

"Well, that was right, wasn't it?"

"Right? Yes; but you stayed there yourself. Why will you do like that?
It seems such a wanton risk."

"Oh, no, it was not so. I was not in any danger."

"How can you say that, Joan, with those deadly things flying all about
you?"

Joan laughed, and tried to turn the subject, but Catherine persisted.
She said:

"It was horribly dangerous, and it could not be necessary to stay
in such a place. And you led an assault again. Joan, it is tempting
Providence. I want you to make me a promise. I want you to promise me
that you will let others lead the assaults, if there must be assaults,
and that you will take better care of yourself in those dreadful
battles. Will you?"

But Joan fought away from the promise and did not give it. Catherine sat
troubled and discontented awhile, then she said:

"Joan, are you going to be a soldier always? These wars are so long--so
long. They last forever and ever and ever."

There was a glad flash in Joan's eye as she cried:

"This campaign will do all the really hard work that is in front of
it in the next four days. The rest of it will be gentler--oh, far less
bloody. Yes, in four days France will gather another trophy like the
redemption of Orleans and make her second long step toward freedom!"

Catherine started (and so did I); then she gazed long at Joan like one
in a trance, murmuring "four days--four days," as if to herself and
unconsciously. Finally she asked, in a low voice that had something of
awe in it:

"Joan, tell me--how is it that you know that? For you do know it, I
think."

"Yes," said Joan, dreamily, "I know--I know. I shall strike--and strike
again. And before the fourth day is finished I shall strike yet again."
She became silent. We sat wondering and still. This was for a whole
minute, she looking at