The Maid rode the horse which afterwards was to carry her so many
long, weary miles. He was a tall chestnut, deep in the chest,
strong in the flank, with a proudly arching neck, a great mane of
flowing hair, a haughty fashion of lifting his shapely feet, and an
eye that could be either mild or fierce, according to the fashion
in which he was treated. On his brow was a curious mark, something
like a cross in shape, and the colour of it was something deeper
than the chestnut of his coat. The Maid marked this sign at the
first glance, and she called the horse her Crusader. Methinks she
was cheered and pleased by the red cross she thus carried before
her, and she and her good steed formed one of those friendships
which are good to see betwixt man and beast.
Our journey was not adventurous; nor will I waste time in telling
overmuch about it. We visited the shrine, where the Maid passed a
night in fasting and vigil, and laid thereon a little simple
offering, such as her humble state permitted. The next day she was
presented to the Duke of Lorraine, as he lay wrapped in costly
silken coverlets upon his great bed in one of the most sumptuous
apartments of his Castle.
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