When I spoke to one grizzled old soldier about it, he shrugged his
shoulders and made reply:
"What would you? Those English are helped of the devil himself. We
have tried to stand against them, but it is all to no purpose. Some
demon of fighting enters into them, and they know that we shall
fly--and fly we do. At last there were none who would face them.
Our generals sought in vain to lead them. You should have heard La
Hire swearing at them. O-he, O-he, he is a master of the art! Some
of us would have followed him; but the rest--one might as well have
asked a flock of sheep to go against the wolf, telling them they
were fifty to one! Not they! It was witchcraft, or something like
it. They sat still on these ramparts and watched the English
working like moles or like ants, and never lifted a finger. Pouf!
When men get to that they are not fit to fight They had better go
home and ply the distaff with the women."
"And let a woman come and lead their comrades to battle!" I said,
laughing. "Have you seen the wonderful Maid of whom all the world
is talking?"
"No; at least, I only caught a gleam of light upon her white armour
last night; but as I said to the boys in the guardroom, I care not
whether she be woman, witch, or angel; if she will bring back heart
and courage, and make men again of all these chicken-hearted
poltroons, I will follow her to the death wherever she may lead.
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