"For many a long day I have heard nought so strange! What
think you of it yourself, good Bertrand? For by my troth you speak
like a man convinced that a miracle may even yet be wrought for
France at the hand of this maid."
"And if I do, is that so strange? Cannot it be that the good God
may still speak through His saints to the sons of men, and may
raise up a deliverer for us, even as He did in the days of old for
His chosen people? Is His arm shortened at all? And is it meet that
we Christian knights should trust Him less than did the Jews of
old?"
Sir Guy made no reply, but fell into thought, and then asked a
sudden question:
"Who is this peasant maid of whom you speak? And where is she now?
Is she still abiding content at home, awaiting the time appointed
by her visions?"
"I trow that she is," answered Bertrand. "I did hear that she went
home without delay, as quietly as she had come. Her name is Jeanne
d'Arc. She dwells in the village of Domremy over yonder. Her father
is an honest prud'homme of the place.
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