From all quarters news was pouring in of the hopeless
disruption of the power of the English after the Chasse de Patay.
Towns and villages which had submitted in sullen acquiescence
before, now sent messages of loyalty and love to the King. Men
flocked daily to join our standard as we marched. It was a sight to
see the villagers come forth, clad in their holiday dress, eager to
see and pay homage to the King, but yet more eager to look upon the
white mailed figure at his side and shout aloud the name of THE
MAID OF ORLEANS!
For the place of honour at the King's right hand was reserved for
the Maid, and she rode beside him without fear, without protest,
without shame. Gentle, humble, and simple as she always was, she
knew herself the Messenger of a greater King than that of France,
and the honour done to her she accepted as done to her Lord, and
never faltered beneath it, as she was never puffed up or made
haughty or arrogant thereby. Nor did she ever lose her tenderness
of heart, nor her quick observation of trivial detail in the
absorbing interests of her greatness.
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