But, as I say, I have
no heart to write of all those weary months of wearing inactivity,
wherein the spirit of the Maid chafed like that of a caged eagle,
whilst the counsellors of the King--her bitter foes--had his ear,
and held him back from following the course which her spirit and
her knowledge alike advocated.
And yet we made none so bad a start.
"We must march upon Paris next," spoke the Maid at the first
Council of War held in Rheims after the coronation of the King; and
La Hire and the soldiers applauded the bold resolve, whilst La
Tremouille and other timid and treacherous spirits sought ever to
hold him back.
I often thought of the words spoken by the Maid to those friends of
hers from Domremy, when she bid them farewell on the evening of
which I have just written.
"Are you not afraid, Jeanne," they asked, "of going into battle, of
living so strange a life, of being the companion of the great men
of the earth?"
And she, looking at them with those big grave eyes of hers, had
made answer thus:
"I fear nothing but treachery.
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