The Maid went forth with a greater glory and honour than has,
methinks, ever been bestowed upon woman before--certainly upon no
humbly-born maiden of seventeen years. Some said that she was
actually ennobled in her own person by the grant to quarter the
lilies of France, and that her brothers ranked now amongst the
knights and nobles. Others declared that she had refused all
personal honours, and that she still remained a humble peasant,
though so high in the favour of the King, and so great a personage
in the realm.
As for me, I cared nothing for all this. To me she was always the
Angelic Maid, heaven sent, miraculous, apart from the earth, though
living amongst us and leading us on to victory.
To the army she was--and that was enough. She was the companion and
friend of princes, nobles, and knights; but she was never as others
were. An atmosphere of sanctity seemed ever to encompass her. All
who approached her did her unconscious homage. None could be with
her long without being conscious that she was visited by sounds
unheard by them, that her eyes saw sights to which theirs were
closed.
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