It was such a
love as may be inspired by some almost angelic, presence--there was
no passion in it. I believe I speak truly when I say that not one
of the Maid's true followers and knights and comrades-in-arms, ever
thought of her as possible wife--ever even dreamed of her as lover.
She moved amongst us as a being from another sphere. She inspired
us with a courage, a power, and a confidence in her and in our
cause, which nothing could shake or daunt. She was like a star, set
in the firmament of heaven. Our eyes, our hearts turned towards
her, but she was never as one of us.
Still less was she as other women are, fashioned for soft
flatteries, ready to be wooed and won. Ah, no! With the Maid it was
far otherwise. Truly do I think that of herself she had no thought,
save as she was the instrument appointed of her Lord to do the
appointed work. To that task her whole soul was bent. It filled her
to the full with an ecstasy of devotion which required no words in
which to express itself. And I can faithfully say that it was not
the beauty of her face, the sweetness of her ringing voice, nor the
grace and strength of her supple form which made of men her willing
followers and servants.
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