"How old are you, fair maiden?" I asked, as at length I rose to
depart, and she stood, tall and slim, before me, straight as a
young poplar, graceful, despite her coarse raiment, her feet and
hands well fashioned, her limbs shapely and supple.
"I was seventeen last week," she answered simply, "the fifth of
January is my jour de fete."
"And your parents, what think they of this? What said they when you
bid them farewell for such an errand?"
The tears gathered slowly in her beautiful eyes; but they did not
fall. She answered in a low voice:
"In sooth they know not for what I did leave them. They believed I
went but to visit a sick friend. I did not dare to tell them all,
lest my father should hold me back: He is very slow to believe my
mission; he chides me bitterly if ever word be spoken anent it. Is
it not always so when the Lord uses one of His children? Even our
Lord's brethren and sisters believed not on Him. How can the
servant be greater than his Lord?"
"You fear not, then, to disobey your parents?"
I had need to put this question; for it was one that De Baudricourt
had insisted upon; for he knew something of Jacques d'Arc's
opposition to his daughter's proposed campaign.
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