that one sound--the muffled tread of the marching host.
As the serried masses drifted by, the men put their right hands up to
their temples, palms to the front, in military salute, turning their
eyes upon Joan's face in mute God-bless-you and farewell, and keeping
them there while they could. They still kept their hands up in reverent
salute many steps after they had passed by. Every time Joan put her
handkerchief to her eyes you could see a little quiver of emotion
crinkle along the faces of the files.

The march-past after a victory is a thing to drive the heart mad with
jubilation; but this one was a thing to break it.

We rode now to the King's lodgings, which was the Archbishop's country
palace; and he was presently ready, and we galloped off and took
position at the head of the army. By this time the country-people were
arriving in multitudes from every direction and massing themselves on
both sides of the road to get sight of Joan--just as had been done every
day since our first day's march began. Our march now lay through the
grassy plain, and those peasants made a dividing double border for that
plain. They stretched right down through it, a broad belt of bright
colors on each side of the road; for every peasant girl and woman in it
had a white jacket on her body and a crimson skirt on the rest of her.
Endless borders made of poppies and lilies stretching away in front of
us--that is what it looked like. And that is the kind of lane we had
been marching through all these days. Not a lane between multitudinous
flowers standing upright on their stems--no, these flowers were always
kneeling; kneeling, these human flowers, with their hands and faces
lifted toward Joan of Arc, and the grateful tears streaming down. And
all along, those closest to the road hugged her feet and kissed them
and laid their wet cheeks fondly against them. I never, during all those
days, saw any of either sex stand while she passed, nor any man keep his
head covered. Afterward in the Great Trial these touching scenes were
used as a weapon against her. She had been made an object of adoration
by the people, and this was proof that she was a heretic--so claimed
that unjust court.

As we drew near the city the curving long sweep of ramparts and towers
was gay with fluttering flags and black with masses of people; and
all the air was vibrant with the crash of artillery and gloomed with
drifting clouds of smoke. We entered the gates in state