The man who brought this message faltered as he delivered it. The
Maid sat very still and quiet, her head lifted in a dignified but
most expressive disdain.
"Monsieur," she replied, when the envoy ceased speaking, "go back
to those who sent you. Tell them that they have had their council
and I have had mine. I leave the city at dawn as I have said. I
return not to it till the siege has been raised."
The man bowed and retired confusedly. The Maid lifted the little
child in her arms, as was her wont, to carry her to bed. She turned
to her chaplain as she did so:
"Come to me at dawn, my father, to hear my confession; and I pray
you accompany me upon the morrow; for my blood will be shed. But do
not weep or fear for me, my friends, nor spread any banquet for me
ere I start forth upon the morrow; but keep all for my return in
the evening, when I will come to you by the bridge."
She was gone as she spoke, and we gazed at her and each other in
amaze; for how could she come back by a bridge which had been
destroyed, and how did she brook such slights as were heaped upon
her without showing anger and hurt pride?
"And there is worse yet to come!" cried Sir Guy in a fury of rage,
"for I lingered behind to hear and see.
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