-30
 
 THE SHIELD OF THE 
 
 I 
 
 mmm 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 BY 
 
 Constance Goddard Du 6015 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 "MARTHA COREY," 
 
 "A MODERN PAGAN" ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK. 
 
 THE MERRIAM COA\PANV 
 67 FIFTH AVE.
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1895, 
 
 BY CONSTANCK GODDAHI) DlTBolS. 
 
 TYPOGRAPHY ISY C. J. PETEKS & SON, 
 BOSTON.
 
 TO THE GLORIOUS MEMORY OP 
 
 Jeanne Bare 
 
 SAINT AND MARTYR 
 
 THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED WITH LOVE 
 AND REVERENCE.
 
 TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER. PAGE. 
 
 I. AT THE INN 5 
 
 II. THE VILLAGE FESTIVAL 18 
 
 III. IN THE COTTAGE 41 
 
 IV. THE SONG OF JEANNE DARC 49 
 
 V. FAREWELL TO DOMREMY 68 
 
 VI. JEANNE DARC LIVES 79 
 
 VII. FATHER AMBROSE'S CONFESSION 100 
 
 VIII. KECOGNITION 113 
 
 IX. BLUEBEARD'S CASTLE 130 
 
 X. REBELLIOUS LOVE 148 
 
 XI. A MESSAGE . . . '. 164 
 
 XII. THE ARCHIVES OF ORLEANS 186 
 
 XIII. LAMIA 199 
 
 XIV. A DEED OF SALE 218 
 
 XV. THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES 229 
 
 XVI. THE SWORD FALLS 240 
 
 XVII. A PROMISE 252 
 
 XVIII. THE SIENA MANUSCRIPT 271 
 
 XIX. THE LADY OF BEAUTE 277 
 
 XX. DISCOVERY 289 
 
 XXI. THE REVIEW OF THE BASOCHE 308 
 
 XXII. REHABILITATION 329 
 
 APPENDIX . 331
 
 THE 
 
 SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 AT THE INN. 
 
 the close of a Ma y da y in the 
 
 1434, a stranger applied for shelter 
 at the miserable inn which was the 
 sole refuge for the traveller whose 
 course led him among the outlying 
 villages on the borders of Lorraine. A swinging 
 board to which a bush was attached announced the 
 character of the place ; and Jean Ribaut boasted that 
 no one between Greux and Vaucouleurs gave better 
 accommodation, lack of competition rendering the 
 statement impregnable. 
 
 The young man who was driven by the fall of night 
 to make proof of his hospitality was a soldier, and 
 inured to hardship ; and he gave more thought to 
 the feeding and stabling of his horse, a fine Arabian, 
 than to his own prospective comfort. He followed
 
 6 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 the sleepy stable-boy to the stalls, where he helped 
 to fill the manger with stubbly hay and the measure 
 with chaffy oats, grumbling at the quality of the 
 fodder, and swearing a few Greek oaths, which lost 
 their energy of vituperation when pronounced by 
 a mouth modelled like that of Phoebus. Robin, the 
 hostler, stared to see the stranger groom his horse, 
 wash its hoofs, and comb its mane, taking leave of 
 his favorite at last with a caress to which the animal 
 responded by fondling its owner's neck with a nose 
 lifted for the moment from its oats. 
 
 " The beast and you are on good terms, I see," said 
 Robin ; " I marvel you can take the pains you do after 
 a day's journey. My bones ache so at even that I fling 
 down the fodder, and let well enough go unbettered. 
 The creatures fare no worse than I if they have water 
 and a bite to stay their stomachs. My master keeps 
 me on the "jump from morn to night. 'Tis Robin here, 
 and Robin there, all the time. And now the May 
 festival at Domre'my fills our house from attic to cellar. 
 Master Jean de Metz comes from Vaucouleurs, as 
 usual ; and a great lord, who is stopping there on king's 
 business, is coming this time, they say. All we have 
 is bespoke. You will be lucky to get a corner to 
 yourself, Master." 
 
 " What is the occasion of the festival you mention ? " 
 asked the young man.
 
 AT THE INN. 7 
 
 "It used to be the habit here to keep the Feast of 
 the Fountains," was the answer. " Now that is 
 changed. There is no more dancing and merry 
 making. Master Jean de Metz wants us all to be 
 sad-faced, and go about as if at a funeral. They are 
 to keep the vigil to-night in the convent on the hill ; 
 and to-morrow both churches will be decked in black, 
 and there will be preaching and praying, and a pro 
 cession, and Latin hymns ; and people will come from 
 far and near. This nobleman from the Court has 
 ordered the best our house contains, and Mistress 
 for two days has been as restless as a nesting hen 
 when her brood is broken up. Master, too, gives a 
 dozen orders in one breath : first a pig must be slain ; 
 then he is not sure but the great man would rather dine 
 on calf's meat, but Mistress says the heifer must be 
 raised for breeding, and Josson must be persuaded to 
 give us a sheep. So the saints alone can guide us." 
 
 "But what is the object of the ceremony?" in 
 quired the young man, as he left the stable followed 
 by Robin's shuffling steps. He waited for the answer 
 while the hostler secured the door with a twisted 
 withe, and a large stone which he rolled against the 
 lower panel for greater security in the evident be 
 lief that no intruder would care to remove the 
 weight that set him groaning. 
 
 " To-morrow is the day three years since Jeanne
 
 8 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUK-DE-LIS. 
 
 Dare l perished at the stake," he said. " She lived in 
 the village yonder across the brook. Many go now to 
 look at the house. They call her a witch and a heretic ; 
 but our priest says she is a saint, and has seejn her 
 in visions since she died. You must ask him about 
 it. He used to work cheek by jowl with me in the 
 hayfield, when he came from Toul, where he lived, to 
 visit his uncle who was cobbler in Domre'my. He had 
 no more thought of being a priest than I had. I 
 could tell some tales of him ; but no matter. He was 
 a good lad in the main, and sick with love for Jeanne 
 Dare. He asked her to wed, and she said no. She 
 never cared for aught but praying and church-going, 
 for all she was friendly to every one. I mind how 
 she rubbed my mother's leg when it swelled past all 
 belief with the dropsy ; and she cured it by prayer, or 
 by rubbing, or by the favor of the Virgin. Later on 
 the duke himself sent for her to cure him. All say 
 she could do miracles; though Isabel Rome'e, she that 
 is now Isabel du Lis, for they are all nobles, if you 
 will believe it, and I must scrape and bow when I 
 meet Jean and Pierre who are no better born than 
 I a strange thing is this gift of a pedigree when 
 
 1 The spelling of the name of France's heroine used throughout 
 this book has been adopted, both because it was that in use in her 
 day, when the apostrophe was unknown, and also in protest against the 
 customary English translation of the preposition, which is as inexcus 
 able in this case as it would be in the following names : Madame of Stael, 
 the Duke of Aumale, etc.
 
 AT THE INN. 9 
 
 the king sends it in a parchment a yard long well, 
 Isabel Rome'e, or du Lis, the mother of Jeanne, says 
 she never did a miracle, for which they accuse her 
 of witchcraft, but that she is a saint, and her prayers 
 were accepted of God." 
 
 "You were going to tell of the priest's love for 
 Jeanne," suggested the young man. 
 
 " Oh, ay, Father Ambrose ; his name then was 
 Pierre. He asked Jeanne to wed; and when her 
 parents agreed, and she still refused, he haled her 
 to Toul before the Official, and asked her in open 
 court if she had not once promised to wed him, 
 and if the judges should not force her to do as she 
 had said. Jeanne stood up and answered him in her 
 own defense ; and they say it was a marvellous thing 
 to hear her. The Official gave sentence iu her favor, 
 and Pierre came home in shame without a wife. 
 They say he now does penance for the injury he 
 thought to do her. He has been for three years in 
 the convent, and is now ordained, and may shrive 
 and bury, and say masses ; and yet he is no older 
 than I, and was no better instructed when Jeanne 
 died. Since then he has been like one transformed." 
 
 Robin's words came to an end only when he parted 
 with the guest at the inn door, where he consigned 
 him to the tender mercies of the host. 
 
 Jean Ribaut gave him the end of a table, and set
 
 10 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUK-DE-LIS. 
 
 a bowl of porridge before him ; but the innkeeper 
 arid his wife were so absorbed in anxiety for the 
 morrow, and in making preparation for the distin 
 guished guest who was expected, that they had little 
 thought to give to the young soldier who rode unat 
 tended, and whose clothes, though rich, were of a 
 strange fashion, while his accent was that of a for 
 eigner. 
 
 In answer to the questions which Marianne Ribaut 
 felt it her duty to ask of every new-comer as to his 
 name, home, station, and business, it was discovered 
 that the stranger was a lord of Lorraine, and a native 
 of Metz, Sire Robert des Armoises by name ; that he 
 had been educated by an uncle in the city of Con 
 stantinople, and that he was now on his way to his 
 paternal home to enter upon his inheritance, which 
 consisted of an old homestead within the city walls, 
 and a patrimony of lands and estates in Lorraine 
 and France. 
 
 Marianne was a respecter of persons, but she was 
 also of a skeptical mind. These claims to wealth 
 and rank did not accord with the simplicity of the 
 stranger's appearance. She set them down to the 
 credit of a traveller's imagination, ordered the slat 
 ternly maid-servant to make up a bed for the gentle 
 man in the south-east corner of the attic room, already 
 bespoken for three others, and then left him with-
 
 AT THE INN. 11 
 
 out further concern. Jean Ribaut, finding that the 
 stranger ordered the best wine, and drank it without 
 criticism, asking no questions, was disposed to be 
 more friendly. 
 
 He was a stout man, with a rubicund face ; and if 
 his habitual expression of stolid resignation was not 
 that which Nature had designed to accompany the 
 cast of his features, it was because fate, in the shape 
 of his wife, had frustrated the happier possibilities of 
 his destiny. When the door closed upon Marianne's 
 anxious activities, a lurking smile crept into the 
 corners of the innkeeper's loose lips ; his thumbs 
 sought the folds of his belt, allowing his hands to 
 rest upon his portly hips ; his head was thrown 
 back, and his small eyes twinkled with shrewd obser 
 vation. Sometimes then he would utter a ponderous 
 witticism, matured by a week's deliberation. He 
 would nod approval of his guests' remarks, and act 
 as the master of ceremonies in introducing and ex 
 plaining the meaning of each to the other, often con 
 fusing rather than elucidating the result. 
 
 Des Armoises, rising from his miserable meal, con 
 fronted his host thus established in front of the fire ; 
 and he, in turn, surveyed his guest with a paternal 
 glance, while he chalked the score upon the wall, 
 inadvertently adding double to the price of the sour 
 wine, which had been left unfinished.
 
 12 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 "Tell me, mine host," said Des Armoises, "some 
 thing more concerning the wonderful Maid of France, 
 who has honored your village by giving it a world 
 wide fame. I heard of her in the East ; and I fancied 
 her to be a doughty Amazon, riding to victory at the 
 head of the armies of France, wrapped about with a 
 religious veneration like that which invests our Pa- 
 nagia. Little by little, rumors of a sad and tragic 
 end have reached me ; but how is it possible that 
 the Saviour of France should perish at the stake 
 as a witch and a heretic? Where were her armies? 
 Where was the king ? Was there a general rout ? 
 It cannot be, unless rumor lies; for every report was 
 of some new victory for the French." 
 
 Jean Ribaut shuffled his feet uneasily upon the floor, 
 and rubbed his hands together nervously; for the 
 necessity of formulating a definite account of events 
 concerning which his knowledge was vague and lim 
 ited, made it more than ever difficult for him to 
 marshal his thoughts into speech. 
 
 "You will hear all about it to-morrow," he said. 
 " They are to talk of nothing else. Jean de Metz, 
 who gave the money for Jacques's funeral, is to pay 
 all the expense of this." 
 
 " And a hole it will make in his pocket," said an 
 old shepherd who sat upon an inverted cask near the 
 fire. He was dressed in a loose shirt, rusty leathern
 
 AT THE INN. 13 
 
 small-clothes, and cloth gaiters, and wore a sheep 
 skin mantle buckled across his shoulders. He sipped 
 a mug of home-brewed beer, and smacked his lips 
 audibly at each draught. 
 
 " Who was this Jacques ? " asked Des Armoises. 
 
 " Jacques Dare was the eldest son of Isabel 
 Rome'e and of the elder Jacques Dare, his father," 
 said an old woman who made one of the circle about 
 the fire, straightening herself as she spoke with the 
 air of confident authority. " He was the brother of 
 Jeanne, and he died as you may say of grief ; for 
 he took to his bed when he heard the news of the 
 burning, and he never held up his head again. 
 There are only two left now, Petit- Jean and Pierre- 
 lot. There was another girl, Catherine ; but they say 
 she was drowned last Michaelmas Day at Nancy, 
 where she lived as servant to the duchess. Isabel 
 Rome'e has had a deal of grief; but what is sent 
 must be borne. Who knows that better than I, who 
 have lost ten children where she has lost three ? " 
 
 She looked about her with an air of grim satisfac 
 tion in the superiority of her experience. 
 
 " Thou didst never lose one at the stake, Mother 
 Suzette," ventured a by-stander. 
 
 " Did not the Burgundians burn the roof above 
 my head six years ago next Lady's Day, when my 
 grandson, a babe, perished in the flames ? Go to,
 
 14 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 Andre* ; fire is fire, and some day, if not on this 
 earth, thou shalt feel it." 
 
 A laugh at Andrews expense went round the 
 circle. 
 
 "Will no one tell me how Jeanne Dare came to 
 such a cruel fate ? " asked Des Armoises, surveying 
 the faces before him. 
 
 The old shepherd looked up, and replied : " 'Tis 
 naught else to tell. The girl Jeanne died at Rouen 
 by being burned to death. Many a time has she 
 kept her cows and sheep side by side with mine ; 
 and I never thought she would end so, but rather 
 she than I. I am a quiet, humble man, and ask 
 naught of kings and judges but to be let alone in 
 my corner of the world, where I fear God and shun 
 the devil. If Jeanne had been as well content with 
 her place, and had obeyed her parents, who said 
 ' Stay,' instead of the voice that bade ' Go,' she would 
 never have suffered the pangs of judgment." 
 
 " Fie upon thee for thy answer ! " cried Suzette. 
 " If the worthy Jean de Metz had heard it, thy 
 shoulders would have felt his staff. It was an angel 
 who told Jeanne to go and save the King of France ; 
 and go she must, spite of father or mother. Right 
 sore she wept for it. You know that, Josson, as 
 well as I. But there are some men who will hide 
 in a corner when the angel Gabriel blows his horn,
 
 AT THE INN. 15 
 
 and will stop their ears pretending not to hear 
 him. Much good it will do them." 
 
 Josson set down his mug bottom side up. " There 
 are some women whose tongues are worse than the 
 day of judgment," he said, rising slowly to his feet, 
 and preparing to leave the room. 
 
 The landlord checked his progress by a gesture 
 which the shepherd feigned to overlook, having visions 
 of certain rudely chalked marks upon the wall where 
 Jean Ribaut kept his score. 
 
 " Art going on the hill ? " asked Ribaut, while Jos- 
 son fingered the latch. Receiving an affirmative reply, 
 he added, " if the gentleman from Metz is within 
 reach, ask him to come to the inn and have speech 
 with a noble soldier who wishes to hear of Jeanne 
 Dare and the wars." Then, as the wearer of the 
 sheepskin mantle slipped into the darkness, the land 
 lord added, " He can tell more than priest or clerk ; 
 he is the one you should inquire of." 
 
 " Who is this townsman of mine ? " cried Des 
 Armoises. " I will gladly make his acquaintance." 
 
 Again Ribaut found himself at a loss for an imme 
 diate reply. Suzette, whose strength lay in her tongue, 
 came to his relief. "He is the best man one can meet 
 with in a summer's day," she said with energy. " He 
 worshipped the Maid of Domre'my as one worships the 
 Virgin; and he bears all the expense of the festival
 
 16 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 to-morrow, as he did for Jacques's funeral. Jeanne, 
 poor soul, had no funeral. They scattered her ashes 
 upon the river." 
 
 " That is a lie of the English hounds," said Mari 
 anne, who entered with a long poker in her hand 
 with which she prepared to extinguish the fire upon 
 the hearth by scattering the brands and covering them 
 with ashes. " I have heard many say that the flames 
 did her no hurt, for she flew out of them to heaven 
 in the shape of a dove. Only her heart was found ; 
 and that they could neither burn nor bury." 
 
 Marianne's entrance with the poker was a signal 
 which the assembled company did not dare to dis 
 regard. It warned them of the hour when transient 
 visitors were to betake themselves homeward, and the 
 guests of the house were expected to seek their beds. 
 Suzette rose reluctantly, and drew her cloak about her. 
 
 " Some folks are wise in their own conceits, and some 
 are wise by right of their station," she said. "I am 
 a poor body that only knows what I am told by those 
 who have reason to speak the truth. If the gentle 
 man wants to get at the root of all these matters he 
 should ask Marianne Ribaut; or if he chooses to wait 
 till to-morrow he will hear the whole history of Jeanne 
 Dare told by Jean de Metz, her brothers, Father Am 
 brose, and Father Fulbert. It might be best for him 
 to wait and hear them.''
 
 AT THE INN. 17 
 
 "What a tongue that woman has!" cried Marianne, 
 flinging the bar into its socket with unnecessary energy 
 as the last guest departed. Then she lit a rushlight, 
 and prepared to show Des Armoises to his attic, inform 
 ing him, in reply to his questions, that Jean de Metz 
 was a young bourgeois living in the king's service at 
 Vaucouleurs, and it was he who had first set Jeanne 
 on her way to the wars, taking her under his protec 
 tion, and vowing his sword to her defense. 
 
 " Josson will not find him to-night, you may be sure," 
 said Marianne, " for he will be keeping vigil and fast 
 with the brothers at the convent. To-morrow you will 
 see him. He will lead the procession. It is he who 
 has contrived everything. Isabel and Jacques agree to 
 everything he says and does. It will be a great day for 
 Domre'my." 
 
 She left her guest with a good-night, taking -the can 
 dle with her. Des Armoises flung himself upon his 
 creaking pallet in a corner of the attic, as remote as 
 possible from his neighbors, three snoring carriers 
 whose pack mules he had noticed in the stable; and 
 he slept with the self-abandonment of youth.
 
 18 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUIl-DE-LIS. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE VILLAGE FESTIVAL. 
 
 morning dawned warm and fair, 
 and the neighboring villages of Dom- 
 re*my and Greux were early astir in 
 preparation for the event of the day. 
 The interest of all was centered up 
 on a small thatched cottage a stone's throw from the 
 church, which formed the focus for the gathering. 
 
 A carved stone escutcheon, contrasting by the fresh 
 ness of its color with the time-stained walls of the little 
 house, bore the arms which had been given to the fam 
 ily of Dare, now Du Lis, a drawn sword surmounted 
 with a crown, with a fleur-de-lis on either side. Visi 
 tors to the village pointed this out, and remarked that 
 the same design was carved upon the tombstone which 
 bore the name of Jacques Dare ; and it was also to be 
 seen upon a memorial tablet in the church where the vir 
 tues and fame of the Maid of Orleans were recorded. 
 " And where is the grave of the other sister of whom 
 I heard last night?" inquired Des Armoises. 
 
 Marianne Ribaut and Robin, urged equally by mo-
 
 THE VILLAGE FESTIVAL. 19 
 
 tives of curiosity and the desire to impart information, 
 were his companions ; but neither replied to this ques 
 tion with accustomed readiness of speech. 
 
 "She is not buried here; none knows where she 
 lies," said Marianne. 
 
 Robin shrugged his shoulders, and distorted his face 
 with a grimace. "None knows but there may be a 
 scandal at the bottom of it," he said with a hoarse at 
 tempt at a whisper in Robert's ear. " She is gone ; that 
 we know. Her brother Jean says she was drowned in 
 the Meuse. They searched, and the body was not re 
 covered. Those who call Jeanne a witch say that the 
 devil flew away with Catherine. But in my opinion 
 the devil may have come in the shape of a man." 
 
 " Hold thy tongue, Robin," cried Marianne. " Thou 
 must ever be chattering of things above thy intellect. 
 None are so foolish as those who think they know more 
 than their neighbors." 
 
 " Father Ambrose knows more than I, yet he will 
 not tell," said Robin. "I know that man as I do my 
 self. Have I not helped him steal the neighbors' 
 ducks' eggs, and put smooth stones in their place ? but 
 it will not do to tell that and more now he's a priest 
 and I but an hostler. But because of our youthful 
 fellowship we are like brothers for knowledge of each 
 other's faces. Say ' Catherine ' to Ambrose, and see if 
 he will not blush."
 
 20 THE SHIELD OF THE-FLEUIi-DE-LIS. 
 
 " Chattering fool ! what must thou be after?" cried 
 Marianne in amazement. " Those who slander a priest 
 must fear halter and flame." 
 
 " I mean naught against him," Robin hastened to say; 
 "only that i-f any one has reason to be sure whether 
 Catherine is living or dead, it must be that he guesses 
 the secret." 
 
 " This is no place to talk of such things," said Mari 
 anne. "When we are at home, I will wish to hear all 
 that thou canst tell." 
 
 Robin shook his head, and thrust his tongue into his 
 cheek. ^ I have now said more than is for my good," 
 he replied. 
 
 Marianne drew her brows together in angry perplex 
 ity, wondering if the hostler's chatter had any other 
 cause than his jealousy of his old comrade's rise in sta 
 tion. At this moment the side door of the church 
 opened, and shut again behind two men who left it to 
 cross the greensward to the cottage. 
 
 " Yonder is Jean de Metz, and Father Ambrose with 
 him," cried Marianne. " The procession will now be 
 gin to form." 
 
 Des Armoises looked at the two with interest. His 
 fellow townsman was a young man with a sallow, mel 
 ancholy face, where suffering had left lines that gave it 
 a look of age. His hair, too, was streaked with gray. 
 His mouth drooped, and his look was fixed and stern.
 
 THE VILLAGE FESTIVAL. 21 
 
 His dress was careless ; and his manner was that of one 
 who is mastered by an inward prepossession, and indif 
 ferent to the external world. 
 
 His companion was also plainly an exceptional char 
 acter. He was dressed in a long black gown, and wore 
 a square cap that hid the tonsure. A girdle about his 
 waist bore a crucifix, which now and then he lifted and 
 fingered mechanically as he talked. His shaven face 
 was so mobile with expression that it seemed to betray 
 his thoughts as they arose. His transparent skin 
 flushed and paled like that of a young girl. His long, 
 thin fingers clutched the crucifix convulsively, showing 
 the tension of overstrung nerves. 
 
 Des Armoises, watching him keenly, was inclined 
 to believe that Robin's estimate of his former friend 
 might be in a measure correct. Father Ambrose was 
 not yet far enough removed from his youth to bury its 
 remorse, or to hide its scars. 
 
 One of the priest's bright, uncertain glances met Des 
 Armoises's look, and lingered curiously upon him. De 
 Metz passed by with his gaze fixed on vacancy. Both 
 men entered the cottage, and a movement of expec 
 tancy was noticeable in the throng. Soon the young 
 priest reappeared, leading the bereaved mother by the 
 hand. De Metz followed, giving a supporting arm to 
 Jacques Dare, whose tall form was bowed beneath the 
 weight of his repeated griefs. The two sons with their
 
 22 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 wives came next, other relatives and friends fell into 
 line, and the procession moved slowly forward, crossed 
 the churchyard, and paused in front of the memorial 
 tablet where the name of Jeanne Dare was inscribed. 
 Here all made the sign of the cross, and said a silent 
 prayer. 
 
 At the steps of the church the venerable Father 
 Fulbert met the people of his flock, and preceded 
 them up the aisle to the chancel as if leading a funeral 
 train. The short service of prayer and invocation was 
 such as might be said over the grave of a martyr ; but 
 Father Ambrose took his stand to address the congrega 
 tion with a look of cheerful animation in his shining eyes. 
 
 " Why do you mourn, my friends ? " he said ; " it is 
 no time for tears. Jeanne Dare lives." He paused, 
 for there was a stir at the entrance. A small com 
 pany of horsemen, dismounting at the church door, 
 pushed their way into the edifice through the crowd 
 that fell back before them, until they reached the 
 foremost place, where their leader ostentatiously took 
 his seat. 
 
 He was a strikingly handsome man of middle size, 
 with restless black eyes which had a look of malignity 
 in their sidelong glance. He wore a travelling-cloak 
 of brocaded silk lined with rich fur, which reached 
 below his knees, and being open in front displayed a 
 short, plaited surcoat of Flanders cloth. His close-
 
 THE VILLAGE FESTIVAL. 23 
 
 fitting small-clothes terminated in riding-gaiters and 
 long pointed shoes. His round felt hat was encircled 
 with a gold chain, and an ostrich plume curled above 
 its brim. He wore a dagger in his belt, and a short 
 sword at his side. Two of his attendants, who re 
 mained standing at a respectful distance in the rear, 
 were more heavily armed with maces and halberds. 
 The third was dressed as a minstrel, and carried a 
 guitar swung by a ribbon over his shoulder. 
 
 The nobleman, whose rank was announced to the 
 gaping observers by the rich fur lining of his houppe- 
 lande, remained with his hat in his hand regarding 
 the preacher with a look of cynical amusement; for 
 at sight of the newcomer, Father Ambrose had grasped 
 the railing of his stand to save himself, as it seemed, 
 from falling. The color deserted his cheeks, and he 
 stared with projecting eyes and parted lips as if at 
 some strange apparition. 
 
 The nobleman had recovered in a moment from an 
 almost equal shock of surprise. The words which he 
 had heard at his entrance had seemed like the utterance 
 of the raving priestess of Delphi, inspired to reveal 
 strange secrets. 
 
 "Go on, good preacher," he said, with a wave of the 
 hand. "Let me not interrupt your discourse." 
 
 Father Ambrose passed his hand across his forehead, 
 where drops of sweat had started forth. He raised his
 
 24 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 < 
 
 eyes as if in silent prayer, and, without looking again 
 at the faces before him, he continued, " It is the saints 
 of Paradise who alone truly live. We feeble worms of 
 the earth crawl through our allotted time, not knowing 
 we are dead while we live. Jeanne Dare is in glory. 
 I see her now with the eye of faith. St. Michael, with 
 a smile more radiant than the lightning, places upon 
 her brow a celestial diadem. St. Margaret and St. 
 Catherine on either side present her with a lily, the 
 perfume of which is a balm for earth's griefs, an 
 earnest of immortality. She does not forget you, my 
 friends. She prays for you each by name, loving you 
 now as formerly. She who refused rank and title for 
 herself gave to her family a place among the nobility 
 of France. She who asked no favor for herself won 
 from the king perpetual release from impost for the 
 villages of her native place. Why should you grieve 
 to-day when you commemorate her passage from earth 
 to heaven? She went with tears and pain through a 
 path of agony; but at its end she found the Lord 
 Christ waiting to receive the martyr who died with his 
 name upon her lips." 
 
 He ceased speaking, and with a bent head left his 
 place, and took a seat in the stalls ; while the old 
 priest, greatly moved, came forward and stood in 
 the centre of the chancel facing the assembled mul 
 titude with a tremulous smile.
 
 THE VILLAGE FESTIVAL. 25 
 
 "For the information of the strangers who are with 
 us to-day," he said, " I had meant to tell the story 
 of our Maid of Domremy, who is now known as the 
 Maid of Orleans, and the Maid of France. Thus did 
 her mission widen in its purpose. But in spite of 
 my young colleague's pious exhortations, and the 
 strength of his faith which is also mine, I find my 
 heart too heavy and my voice too full of tears for 
 much speech. You know the goodness of her life, 
 and have borne witness to it, when twice spies have 
 been sent among us hoping to prove some evil thing 
 against her. Again and again have they been con 
 founded. Who is there among us that has not had 
 evidence of her piety, charity, and good-will? When 
 she had no gold to give, she gave her strength, her 
 thought, and assistance. Who ever asked Jeanne 
 Dare for aid and asked in vain ? How young she 
 was when she left us, yet how exalted in religious 
 attainments, and in the knowledge and communion 
 of that better world which my young colleague has 
 pictured forth. To her it was present and real. 
 The veil that hides it from our sin-dulled eyes was 
 drawn aside for her. The blessed saints to whose 
 voices our ears are deaf found hers attentive. She 
 alone was chosen ; for she alone was pure enough to 
 hear, devoted enough to obey. We are told that her 
 enemies still are mighty. Those who compassed her
 
 26 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 death have done this greater evil, they have covered 
 her name with infamy. The Church, they say, has 
 condemned her. Believe it not, my people. The 
 Church is holy. Its false professors, who have shel 
 tered their sin under the name of religion, shall one 
 day be exposed and confounded. Righteousness shall 
 be exalted. Truth shall flourish on the earth ; and 
 Jeanne Dare shall be reckoned in the company of 
 the saints." 
 
 Concluding thus, he repeated a short prayer, uttered 
 a benediction, and dismissed the congregation, going 
 to Isabel and Jacques, and laying his hands upon 
 their heads for a special blessing while they knelt 
 at his feet after the others had departed. 
 
 Jean de Metz, deserted now by Ambrose, who had 
 disappeared, led the way once more, and the people 
 followed to the convent of Our Lady of Bermont on 
 the hill. Here the altar of the little chapel was dec 
 orated with flowers, and he who wished might kneel 
 and tell his beads on the spot where Jeanne Dare 
 had often prayed. Outside in the courtyard the good 
 brothers had spread tables of refreshments for their 
 visitors, where all who came and went during the day 
 might break a loaf of wheaten bread, and taste a mug 
 of the honey beer for which the convent was famed. 
 The green meadow on the brow of the hill, edged by 
 a border of dense forest, afforded a welcome resting-
 
 THE VILLAGE FESTIVAL. 27 
 
 place when hunger was satisfied; and the wide view 
 of the valley showed the shining river and nestling 
 hamlets, darkened here and there by the shadows of 
 high-piled summer clouds. 
 
 The procession, as it came from the village, was met 
 at the crest of the hill by a dozen or more of the gray- 
 robed friars of the convent, who chanted a hymn as 
 they moved slowly forward. By common consent, the 
 straggling throng came to a pause in the meadow, 
 and in various attitudes of repose prepared to listen 
 to the further exercises of the morning. Jean de 
 Metz, acting as master of ceremonies, claimed the 
 attention of the multitude by a wave of the hand. 
 
 "Friends," he said, with a kindling glance, "I have 
 brought you here because from this high ground you 
 can look forth upon the world of hill and vale, river 
 and plain. In like manner I would have you make 
 this day a vantage-point from which you can look 
 forth upon futurity. This is the third time you have 
 with me commemorated the martyrdom of Jeanne 
 Dare on the recurrence of its anniversary, a day for- 
 evermore to be marked in the calendar in letters of 
 blood. For the third time I bid you remember all 
 that you owe to her, and that it is a debt that must 
 be paid. Can you repay her? Does she need your 
 help ? Yes, I repeat to you ; a duty is pressing upon 
 us. Her memory must be cleared from the obloquy
 
 28 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 that rests upon it. The people of France adore her 
 as their saviour, their Messiah ; but the condemnation 
 written against her name by unjust judges has never 
 been revoked. In vain has the Lord discharged his 
 thunderbolts against her enemies. One by one they 
 have come to strange and torturing deaths. Still 
 those who remain are mighty against her; and neither 
 prince nor king, bishop nor prelate, has appealed to 
 the head of the church to rehabilitate his righteous 
 servant in her integrity. I say to you that it must 
 be done. Let each of you lay it to his heart as his 
 dearest ambition that he may assist in this holy work. 
 And that it may be done in our time, let each one 
 make daily prayers to the Virgin and the saints. To 
 cheer us now we will listen to a hymn composed by a 
 famous poetess in honor of the Maid. Father Ambrose 
 has written it out, and the good friars will sing it to us." 
 Upon this, two of the brothers, more musically 
 endowed than their fellows, struck a few chords for 
 prelude upon a couple of singularly shaped stringed 
 instruments, a dicorde and an archet, and in quaver 
 ing tones began to sing the following words : 
 
 Jeanne de bonne heure nee, 
 
 Beni soit cil qui te crea 
 Pucelle de Dieu ordonnee, 
 
 En qui le Saint-Esprit rea 
 Sa grand grace, et qui ot et a 
 
 Toute largesse de haut don, 
 Qui te rendra assez guerdon ?
 
 THE VILLAGE FESTIVAL. 29 
 
 Merlin et la Sibylle et Bede 
 
 Plus de mille ans a, la vei'rent 
 En esprit, et pour remede 
 
 A France en leurs ecrits la mirent 
 Et leurs propheties en firent. 
 
 Done, dessus tous les preux passes, 
 
 Ceste doit porter la couronne 
 Car ses fails ja montrent assez, 
 
 Que plus prouess Dieu lui donne 
 Qu'a tous ceux de qui Ten raisonne, 
 
 Et n'a pas encore tout parfait. 
 
 Ne sai si Paris se tiendra 
 
 Ne si la Pucelle attendra ; 
 Mais s'il en fait son ennemie 
 
 Je me doute que dur escremie 
 Lui rende, si qu'ailleurs a fait. 
 S'il resiste heure ne demie, 
 
 Mai ira, je crois, de son fait, 
 
 Car ens entrera, qui qu'en grogne ? 
 
 Par elle Anglais 
 
 Seront mis jus sans relever. 
 Si est tout le moins qu' affaire ait 
 
 Que destruire I'Englescherie, 
 Car elle a ailleurs plus haut hait ; 
 
 C'est que la foi ne soit perie. 
 
 En Chrestiente et en 1'eglise 
 
 Sera par elle mis concorde. 
 Les mescreants dont on devise 
 
 Et les herites de vie ordre, 
 Destruira, car ainsi 1'accorde 
 
 Prophetic qui 1'a predit. 
 
 Des Sarrasins fera essart 
 
 En conquerant la Sainte Terre ; 
 La menra Charles que Dieu garde 
 
 Ains qu'il muire fera tel erre
 
 30 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 Cilz est cil qui la doit conquerre. 
 
 La doit-elle finer sa vie 
 Et 1'un et 1'autre gloire acquerre; 
 
 La sera la chose assovie. 1 
 
 A harsh, discordant laugh greeted the conclusion of 
 the hymn, and struck the ears of all present with the 
 effect of a painful discord. Indignant eyes were 
 turned upon the rude disturber of the solemnity. The 
 nobleman who had leisurely followed the movement 
 of the throng had flung himself upon the grass, and 
 lay as if asleep, with a corner of his travelling cloak 
 flung across his face. He now started up with the 
 sardonic laugh which gained him the angry notice 
 of the assembly. 
 
 1 For the benefit of the curious reader, this may be paraphrased 
 as follows : 
 
 Jeanne, born in a happy hour, 
 Blessed be the heavenly power 
 That gave thee life ; the Maid of God, 
 With the Spirit's grace endowed, 
 Highest gift and homage true 
 Cannot yield thee all thy due. 
 
 Merlin's prophecy with Bede's 
 A thousand years thy fame precedes. 
 They saw thee with the spirit's eye, 
 And made for France high prophecy. 
 
 Above the heroes of the past 
 A virgin wears the crown at last. 
 The deeds related urge her claim 
 To highest meed of lasting fame ; 
 Nor can my verse declare the whole 
 Till Time the finished tale unroll.
 
 THE VILLAGE FESTIVAL. 31 
 
 "I laugh at the absurdity of your singing a hymn 
 in so triumphant a strain on an occasion like this," he 
 said. "You mourn the burning of Jeanne Dare as a 
 relapsed heretic, and at the same time you recite the 
 prophecy of her death as conqueror of the Holy Land. 
 Are you able to reconcile the contradiction, most 
 erudite and holy brothers?" 
 
 Jean de Metz, with flashing eyes, took the reply 
 upon himself. 
 
 " The holy purposes of God were interfered with 
 by the sin and treachery pf man," he said. "With 
 
 I know not yet will Paris yield, 
 
 Nor if the Maid will take the field ; 
 
 But sure am I her just demands, 
 
 If scorned, claim vengeance from her hands 
 
 That otherwhere have put to fault 
 
 The proudest foe in rude assault. 
 
 The English fall no more to rise 
 
 When Jeanne her heavenly watchword cries ; 
 
 She drives them forth with constant will, 
 
 And rids the Church of every ill. 
 
 All Christendom at peace will be; 
 She tolerates no heresy. 
 For Holy Church and Christ the Lord 
 She lives as prophecies accord. 
 
 The Saracens will yield to her 
 
 The Holy Land and Sepulchre. 
 
 King Charles will conquer where she leads, 
 
 And share the fame of glorious deeds. 
 
 In Palestine her life will end ; 
 
 May Heaven the full completion send. 
 
 This contemporary witness to the scope of Jeanne Dare's mission is 
 interesting as contradicting the gross errors of certain later historians 
 concerning it.
 
 32 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 the aid and sympathy of the King of France, and an 
 undivided people behind her, Jeanne Dare would have 
 chased the English from the land, united Christen 
 dom, and conquered, it may be, the Holy Land, as the 
 famous poetess, Christan de Pisan, has foretold in her 
 verse. Jeanne, betrayed and deserted, like her Mas 
 ter, dies in a city of the France she had saved." He 
 buried his face in his hands. 
 
 " I knew her well," said the nobleman. " I was her 
 companion in arms ; and it chances that I am par 
 ticularly interested in all that concerns her. There 
 fore, being in Vaucouleurs, and hearing of your annual 
 solemnity, I came hither on purpose to attend it. My 
 name is Gilles de Laval. I am a marshal of France, 
 the Marshal de Retz. You, Jean de Metz, I have 
 seen before. Have you forgotten me ? " 
 
 De Metz flushed quickly. Dislike and suspicion 
 were written on his face as he turned and scanned 
 the marshal with uneasy curiosity. " I have heard of 
 your lordship," he said. 
 
 " And nothing good, if I may judge by your tone," 
 replied the marshal with a laugh. " Yet was I a 
 faithful comrade of the Maid. How well I remember 
 the siege of Paris, to which your prophetess refers 
 with discreet reservation as to the probable result. 
 No man, in fact, could have foreseen the chance which 
 defeated us. On the day of the final assault I was
 
 THE VILLAGE FESTIVAL. 33 
 
 close by the side of the Maid as she shouted the ad 
 vance in that soft woman's voice of hers, that could 
 ring like a clarion when the arrows were flying : ' On, 
 on, my brave soldiers ! One more charge, and Paris 
 is ours ! ' Then she came to the trenches, full of 
 muddy water, and stopped aghast. ' On, Jeanne ! ' I 
 said ; ' why stop for a trifle like this ? ' I knew not 
 but that angel hands might bear her onwards. But, 
 independent of miraculous aid, she had a wondrous 
 power of judgment in that girlish head of hers ; and, 
 after cautiously sounding the water with the staff of 
 her standard, she bade bring fagots, and fill the 
 trenches. Just then the king's word came, ordering 
 the retreat. La Tre'moille, in fact, gave the com 
 mand, and the king spoke as his mouth-piece. Jeanne 
 obeyed, with tears of disappointment streaming from 
 her eyes." 
 
 De Metz groaned, and clinched his hands. 
 
 " You have named the Judas who betrayed the 
 innocent blood," he exclaimed. 
 
 " La Tremoille has fallen," said the marshal, with 
 significant emphasis. 
 
 De Metz nodded, while his eyes shone with triumph. 
 
 " The vengeance of God overtakes her enemies," he 
 said. " Still it delays its full accomplishment." 
 
 " I have something further and more particular to 
 relate to you on this subject," said the marshal, look-
 
 34 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 ing about him furtively. " Here we are too public. 
 Come to my lodging this evening, and sup with me. 
 I shall remain in this neighborhood until the morrow." 
 
 De Metz agreed, his eager interest in the subject 
 overcoming his antipathy to the man. 
 
 At this moment a new speaker came forward to 
 address the assembly. It was Friar Martin, the supe 
 rior of the little convent a tall, spare man, with 
 sunken cheeks and hollow eyes, and the unhealthy 
 color of one who seldom breathed the out-door air. 
 He seemed as much out of place in the smiling May 
 meadow as a blinking owl driven forth unwillingly 
 into the sunshine. By reason of his taste for seclu 
 sion, the prior had the reputation of a learned man, 
 to support which character cost him little effort in 
 the station where his lot was cast. 
 
 " It was a thousand years ago, my friends," he be 
 gan, " that the great Merlin in his prophecy declared 
 that the signs of the zodiac should enter into war, 
 and that a virgin should tread underfoot the bearer 
 of the bow, that is to say, the English. An ancient 
 book, which I have heard of, but not seen, gives it as 
 part of his prophecy that the virgin will come from 
 the Bois Chenu, on the borders of Lorraine. This 
 has been singularly fulfilled. We are here on the 
 borders of the Bois Chesnu, yonder forest, which shel 
 ters us from the wintry blast, and gives us the wood
 
 THE VILLAGE FESTIVAL. 35 
 
 which cooks our food and warms us in winter. With 
 much trouble I have obtained for this occasion a copy 
 of a Latin poem made by a learned monk in the city 
 of Orleans, at the time when the English besiegers 
 were at the gates, and no one knew where to turn 
 for aid. He had fallen asleep in his cell one evening 
 with the words of Merlin's prophecy in his mind ; 
 and in his sleep he seemed to see an angel, who pre 
 sented him with a scroll, the legend of which he wrote 
 out when he awoke, as I will now give it to you ; " 
 and the prior repeated the following lines, regardless 
 of the fact that they were unintelligible to the greater 
 part of his hearers : 
 
 "Virgo puellares artus induta virili 
 Veste, Dei monitu, properat relevare jacentem 
 Liliferum regemque ; suos delere nef andos 
 Hostes praecipue qui nunc sunt Aurelianis 
 Urbe sub, ac illam deterrent obsidione 
 Et si tanta viris mens est se jungere bello 
 Arme sequique sua, quae nunc parat alma Puella, 
 Credit et fallaces Anglos succumbere morti, 
 Marte puellari Gallis sternentibus illos, 
 Et tune finis erit pugnae, tune foedera prisca, 
 Tune amor et pietas et caetera jura redibunt, 
 Certabunt de pace viri, cunctique favebunt 
 Sponte sua regi, qui rex librabit et ipsis 
 Cunctis justitiam quos pulchra pace fovebit, 
 Et modo nullis erit Anglorum pardiger hostis 
 Qui se Francorum praesumat dicere regem." 
 
 " You will give us the meaning in good French, I 
 hope, father," said De Metz.
 
 36 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 " I hope the angelic visitant is not quoted verbatim," 
 said the marshal with his cynical smile. " I should be 
 loath to believe that the heavenly inhabitants converse 
 in Latin so barbarous as this." 
 
 "As to that you may form your own conclusion," 
 said Friar Martin with dignity. " The meaning in 
 common speech is this : 
 
 " The virgin, her maiden limbs clothed with manly 
 garments, hastens to relieve the prostrate lily-bearing 
 king. She will destroy the wicked foe, especially 
 those who are now under the walls of Orleans, and 
 keep her from the siege. If there is courage enough 
 in the men to join the war and follow the arms which 
 now the blessed Maid prepares, she believes that the 
 perfidious English will fall a prey to death, the French 
 scattering them under the martial lead of the Maid. 
 Then there will be an end of fighting; then will re 
 turn the ancient covenants and love and piety and 
 other laws. Then will they contend for peace ; all to 
 gether of their own accord will they favor the King, 
 who will dispense justice to all whom he cherishes in 
 beautiful peace. Then there will no longer be an 
 English foe who presumes to call himself king of the 
 French." 
 
 " Another unfulfilled prophecy," said the marshal, 
 rising and stretching himself with a yawn. " But 
 enough of prophecy and psalm-singing. Here comes
 
 THE VILLAGE FESTIVAL. 37 
 
 a train of the nymphs of the forest. Let us follow 
 where they lead." 
 
 A company of young girls dressed in white, with gar 
 lands in their hands, walked slowly up the winding 
 path that led from the village ; and at their approach 
 a general movement took place among the crowd, who 
 were waiting for this signal to seek the rendezvous of 
 former May -day festivals, the fairy spring in the forest. 
 A few rods within the woods an open glade made a 
 centre for converging foot-paths, which ended where a 
 spring bubbled out of the earth at the foot of a gigan 
 tic beech. The natural fountain was furnished with 
 a stone coping, and a paved channel for outlet. The 
 water was so clear that the movement of the sand at 
 the bottom under the impulse of the bubbling waves 
 could be plainly seen. The branches of the tree 
 decked with the fresh leaves of early summer lightly 
 swept its surface as the wind swayed their elastic 
 tips. 
 
 "This is where the fairies used to dance on moon 
 light nights," said Robin to Des Armoises, whose side 
 he had regained after having been for a time unwil 
 lingly left behind. "I mind well that my godmother 
 told me that when she was a girl she saw a lady all 
 in white rise out of the water, and float through the air 
 into the forest; and Mother Suzette will tell you that 
 in her day voices have been often heard about the
 
 38 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 tree ; but since the priests blessed the fountain and 
 sprinkled the beech with holy water fairies have not 
 been seen. Every one knows that the water has a 
 miraculous power to cure the sick. Folks with rheu 
 matism and palsy will come to the Fountain of the 
 Branches from miles around. You must taste the 
 water before you leave, Messire. And if you are tired 
 you will forget it ; if you have an ache or a pain, it 
 will leave you." 
 
 "So this is the fairy beech," exclaimed the Mar 
 shal de Retz. "I have heard that the enemies of 
 Jeanne Dare made use of her mention of this tree to 
 assist them in formulating the accusation of witch 
 craft against her." 
 
 "Thus they attempted to distort all the facts of her 
 life," said Jean de Metz. " It was formerly the custom 
 in the village to hold the Festival of the Fountains 
 here on the fourth Sunday in Lent; and Jeanne with 
 her companions would sing and dance about the tree, 
 and hang garlands on the branches. Since her death 
 the Lenten festival has been given up ; but on this 
 day of commemoration her former companions repeat 
 the dance and the song in her memory." 
 
 The group of young girls had begun a dance with 
 slow pacing feet and swaying arms about the fountain 
 and the tree. They sang a mournful song in a minor 
 key, in which the name of Jeanne often recurred ; and
 
 THE VILLAGE FESTIVAL. 39 
 
 when they had thrice made the round they hung their 
 garlands on the branches, and departed, pausing as 
 they went to dip their fingers in the spring, and moisten 
 their lips with the water. 
 
 The gathering now broke up, each in departing tak 
 ing a drink of the fairy spring. Des Armoises, Jean 
 de Metz, and the marshal descended the hill together. 
 
 "Some day," said the marshal, " I will give a festival 
 in honor of the Maid of Orleans which shall be worthy 
 of her. I shall have the scenes of her life acted out 
 by trained players in a mystery where all shall be seen 
 exactly as it occurred. Angels with gilt wings shall 
 appear on the scene. The French and English shall 
 fight before the eyes of the spectators. Hippocras 
 shall flow as freely as the water of your village spring. 
 All France shall take note of the affair, while the 
 report of your celebration goes hardly beyond the 
 nearest town." 
 
 " Ah, that could be done by a great lord like your 
 worship, if you had the will," said De Metz. "Would 
 that it might help to hasten the day of her rehabilita 
 tion." 
 
 " The future may have a surprise in store for you," 
 said the marshal. " What would you say, Master 
 Jean, if one told in your ear that Jeanne never suffered 
 the death at Rouen? that at this hour she lives and 
 is well?"
 
 40 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LTS. 
 
 Both De Metz and Des Armoises started. The mar 
 shal laughed as he observed them. "Meet me, both 
 of you, at sunset," he continued. " I will then explain 
 my meaning, and entertain you with a story you will 
 be glad to hear." 
 
 He left them with these words, as if unwilling to 
 be questioned, and went to rejoin his attendants, who 
 were waiting with the horses near the church door, 
 a centre for the curious and admiring gaze of the small 
 boys of Domre"my, who had never had the luck to see 
 accoutrements so splendid as the embroidered housing 
 of the marshal's gray charger and the richly fashioned 
 garments of his men.
 
 IN THE COTTAGE. 41 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 IN THE COTTAGE. 
 
 you think he speaks truth?" asked 
 Des Armoises eagerly, when he was 
 left alone with his fellow towns 
 man. De Metz shook his head with 
 a sigh. "It is an old story," he 
 said. "It has been maintained from that day to this 
 by those who loved Jeanne and refused to credit the 
 fact of her death as something too horrible to be true. 
 Alas, I have learned that nothing is too sad to be 
 possible. Only in an imaginary world does right 
 triumph, and the just cause prevail." 
 
 " If it were true, the first to be told of it should 
 be that grief-stricken household yonder," said Des Ar 
 moises, pointing to the cottage whose roof was visible 
 among the trees. " I shall never forget the look of 
 that mother's face." 
 
 " Come with me, and you shall learn to know her," 
 said De Metz. " Do not mention what you have heard, 
 for false hopes must not again disturb her. For a year 
 or more Isabel Romee refused to believe that Jeanne
 
 42 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUK-DE-LIS. 
 
 was dead. Every flattering rumor started by the credu 
 lity of the common folk kept her in an agitation which 
 was worse than settled despair. Now she accepts the 
 truth. Father Ambrose has seen Jeanne in visions, and 
 has had words of consolation from her for her family. 
 He is a man of wonderful spirituality. He fasts and 
 mortifies the body until he is often nearer to the other 
 world than this." 
 
 " Perhaps the family will not permit the intrusion of 
 a stranger to-day," said Des Armoises as they neared 
 the cottage. 
 
 " I like your face," said De Metz. " I noticed the 
 sympathy you gave to all that was said in praise of 
 Jeanne. I will present you to the family as a friend ; " 
 and urged by the pressure of De Metz's hand upon his 
 arm, Des Arrnoises found himself within the cottage 
 and the centre of the group before the hearth. 
 
 Isabel and Jacques, with their sons near them, sat on 
 either side of the wide fireplace, whose smoldering em 
 bers had lately cooked the dinner of which the guests 
 who crowded the farther room, relatives of near or dis 
 tant degree, were even now partaking, and none the 
 less heartily that the family of Du Lis refused to break 
 their fast on this anniversary of their greatest sorrow. 
 
 Isabel nodded to De Metz, and stared with lustreless 
 eyes at his companion. 
 
 " This is a gentleman who is a native of my own city
 
 . IN THE COTTAGE. 43 
 
 of Metz, and is now on his way there," De Metz ex 
 plained, while Pierre hastened to bring seats for the 
 guests. " He has taken part in our festival, and wishes 
 to pay his respects as a friend to the family of Jeanne 
 Dare." 
 
 " I have learned to measure your grief by my sym 
 pathy for it," said Des Armoises. " It has touched me 
 deeply." 
 
 Isabel's thin lips quivered into an incredulous smile. 
 
 " What can you or any one else know of it ? " she 
 said. " Our grief is measureless. First Jeanne, then 
 Jacques, then Catherine ; burned, wasted, and drowned. 
 Jacques used to sit where you are sitting, and look with 
 horror at the flame there on the hearth. ' Mother,' he 
 said, ' I could live if I did not have to see a fire.' One 
 day near the last of his life, I found him sobbing with 
 anguish. He had burnt his hand in the hot coals. 
 'Foolish lad,' I said; ' if so careless, canst not bear the 
 pain ? ' ' Ay, the pain in the hand, but not in the 
 heart,' he said; '1 held it there in the flames on pur 
 pose, and thought of Jeanne.' " 
 
 Isabel spoke in a monotonous voice, without emo 
 tion ; but at her words a burst of grief arose from those 
 within the room, whose number had been reinforced by 
 some of those at table. The old man opposite her bent 
 forward in his seat, and tore his scanty gray locks with 
 a frantic gesture.
 
 44 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 She looked at him with some concern. " I did not 
 know he would understand," she murmured. 
 
 " Control yourself, mother," said Pierre, the younger 
 son, advancing with a frown. " Of what use is it to 
 bring up these miserable thoughts? The dead are 
 dead. Consider those who remain, whose lives are 
 still precious." 
 
 " Why, then, have this day of prayer and preaching 
 and visiting to urge the dead upon our remembrance? " 
 asked Isabel with calm incisiveness. " Ask Master 
 Jean de Metz why he comes here to disturb us. Why 
 cannot he leave us in peace, and let us forget? But 
 when all are bent upon remembering Jeanne, let them 
 give a thought to Jacques and to Catherine. He was 
 the best lad ; a heart of gold. He never gave me 
 trouble. He was the one I could best lean upon ; and 
 he is the one who must be taken. Then, when all 
 praise Jeanne, let them not blame Catherine because 
 she saw no angels, and was not elected to be a saint. 
 She was a good girl, and did her duty in her station 
 as maid-servant to the duchess. It is a station as 
 high as many. For she was well liked and trusted ; 
 and when she came last to visit us, she showed rne a 
 ring that the wife of Duke R^n^ had given her. She 
 little thought she was to wear it to her death. It was 
 that day fortnight she disappeared. 
 
 They found her hood on the river-bank at Nancy.
 
 IN THE COTTAGE. 45 
 
 She was drowned, they say; and we must believe it, 
 and ask no questions. There is no justice for those 
 who are born as peasants, even when they are made 
 noble by the gift of the king." 
 
 " Heavens, mother ! " cried Pierre, " what evil spirit 
 possesses you to torture us with these senseless sus 
 picions ? If there had been proof of foul play, justice 
 would have been done our family as soon as the best 
 in the land, for the king is bent upon honoring us. 
 But nothing could be learned of Catherine's disappear 
 ance. She was drowned by accident no doubt, a 
 false step in the darkness. Why talk of it now when 
 our hearts are sore and heavy ? " 
 
 " Oh, ay," said Isabel, " that is all the comfort I can 
 expect. You are young, and can forget. Old people 
 must remember the children they have borne and 
 nourished when they are lost to them." 
 . " I am sorry you find her thus," said Pierre, turning 
 to his guests. " Some days she will sit like my father, 
 without opening her mouth ; but the service at the 
 church to-day, and the sight of the crowd, excited her. 
 Perhaps it would be well, Master Jean, to let this 
 matter drop out of remembrance for a time. This 
 yearly commemoration can only renew our grief ; and 
 to what purpose ? " 
 
 "No wonder France is ungrateful, when Jeanne's 
 own family wish to forget her," cried De Metz in deep
 
 46 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 displeasure. "It is the purpose of my life to do 
 justice to the fame of the Maid of Orleans. You 
 know my mind, Pierre ; I have often told you of 
 it." 
 
 "Ay, and I thank you for your good-will," said 
 Pierre ; " but time will work its own cure. When the 
 English are once driven from the land, when our cruel 
 distractions are healed, the people will remember 
 Jeanne and what she did for them. The present 
 concerns me more than the past. What is the use of 
 burdening it with all the grief of yesterday ? " He 
 rose and set the door ajar to let in the breeze and 
 sunshine. The small, low room was oppressively 
 close. 
 
 De Metz followed him with a silent bow of farewell 
 to the others. " They tell me, Pierre," he said, "that 
 the king has promised to give you a rich grant of land 
 as a reward for your services in the war. You will 
 soon be a great man. Already you show the tokens of 
 it. But remember to whom you owe nobility and 
 promotion." 
 
 Pierre flung back his head with an angry frown. 
 "It is not those who protest the most who have the 
 deepest feelings," he said. " I need no one to instruct 
 me in my duty to my sister's memory." 
 
 De Metz sighed heavily as Des Armoises rejoined 
 him outside.
 
 IN THE COTTAGE. 47 
 
 " I fear my pains have been vain," he said. " My 
 heart was set upon this festival ; yet what has it ac 
 complished ? " 
 
 " Believe that you contrived it for my pleasure, and 
 take my thanks for it," said Des Armoises. " I have 
 been deeply interested and impressed. In no other 
 way could I have learned so intimately the history of 
 your famous heroine as by the scenes of this day, which 
 have brought her character so vividly to mind." 
 
 Des Armoises spoke from the heart. He was sur 
 prised to find to what an extent the subject had en 
 thralled his imagination. The image of the Maid of 
 Orleans took form and color, gained in verisimilitude 
 and proportion, until it stood like a life-endowed Gal 
 atea in the inmost shrine of his fancy. Womanhood 
 must henceforth pass comparison with this eidolon in 
 order to win his admiration. Indeed, the young man 
 had always had a yearning for moral beauty in the 
 feminine type, remembering an idolized mother; and 
 he had scorned the lesser good while accommodating 
 himself to it, feeling the thorn pricks of conscience in 
 every relinquishment of his ideal. He felt stirred with 
 the enthusiasm of a new devotion, and happily agitated 
 by the thought that it was perhaps possible to en 
 counter the object of it alive and in the flesh ; for who 
 could prejudge the marshal's story without hearing its 
 evidence ? He would not encounter De Metz's skepti-
 
 48 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 cism by a discussion of the subject ; but he parted with 
 his melancholy companion with the understanding that 
 they should meet at sunset at the inn. This rendez 
 vous was punctually observed.
 
 THE SONG OF JEANNE DARC. 49 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE SONG OF JEANNE DARC. 
 
 [HE inn yard was deserted, except for 
 a few gaunt pigs and stray hens 
 that were engaged according to their 
 several habits in making a meal 
 out of the scattered fragments of 
 the dinner flung within their reach. As the two 
 young men approached, Robin ran out of the rick- 
 yard with a heavy sack of provender flung over his 
 shoulders. 
 
 * " No chance for supper here," he called to Des 
 Armoises. "A pest on the marshal of France, who 
 has put all upside down. You may house yourself, 
 and sup on bare boards, if you can find a crust in 
 the cupboard. The inn and its keepers are turned 
 out of doors." 
 
 He continued to run towards the river-bank, where 
 it would appear that the household of Ribaut had 
 betaken themselves with all their possessions ; for 
 there the phlegmatic Jean and the indefatigable Mari 
 anne were to be seen, surrounded with goods and
 
 50 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 chattels of various sorts, engaged in superintending 
 their ferriage to an island at no great distance from 
 the shore, where the walls of the ruined chateau of 
 Domremy still maintained an appearance of dilap 
 idated grandeur. 
 
 " Bad luck fall upon the Marshal de Retz ! " cried 
 Marianne, as Des Armoises approached her with a 
 good-humored inquiry as to the cause of her unusual 
 occupation. " Our inn is not good enough for his 
 high mightiness, and he must needs lodge with bats 
 and rats in the chateau. Worse than that, we must 
 upset all to serve him with bed and board there, where 
 none but ghosts have walked these twenty years. He 
 has the evil eye, and has bewitched us, or else we are 
 gone crazy to do his bidding. I liked not his look 
 when first I saw him ; but he is free with his gold, and 
 comes from the Court, and therefore Jean Ribaut wttl 
 crawl in the dust to please him." 
 
 The burly Jean, whose portliness of frame contra 
 dicted this bold metaphor, frowned at his wife, and 
 laid his finger on his lips. 
 
 " Hold thy tongue," he said, jingling the coins in 
 his pocket with an air of contentment. " For this 
 cask of wine and the labor of moving it, I get more 
 than Josson and Andre* and the rest would have paid 
 me in months for the price of their mugfuls, reck 
 oned with interest at usury. There is no haggling
 
 THE SONG OF JEANNE DARC. 51 
 
 about my charges ; and for all that we suffer by flood 
 or field, the marshal shall pay double and treble." 
 
 "Have a care to thyself, friend, if attempting to 
 cheat my master," cried a voice in his ear; and the 
 innkeeper started to see one of the marshal's men close 
 at his side, his halberd over his shoulder. " Belike, 
 thou takest me for a common soldier; but I may as 
 well tell thee that I am a man of the church, a priest, 
 though on occasion I doff my gown. I am also a 
 wizard of no mean repute. The ghosts of the castle 
 shall haunt thee to-night, if the beds provided for our 
 use are no better than those I see yonder. Bring out 
 thy own geese-feather mattress ; and if there are any 
 extra bottles of a choice vintage kept in the cupboard 
 whose key hangs at thy girdle, thou shalt not sleep 
 unless they grace my master's table." 
 
 So saying, he strode forward and sprang into the 
 heavily loaded boat in which the ferryman was making 
 ready to push out from shore. 
 
 Jean Ribaut grew pale, and crossed himself. " How 
 did he know of the chimney cupboard ? " he whis 
 pered to his wife, who stood aghast. "It must be he 
 is a wizard, as he says. More wizard than priest, I 
 warrant. Run, get the bottles, Marianne, and tell 
 Jacquard to bring the feather bed, and add a roast 
 pullet for the marshal's table ; for already my blood 
 runs cold, and I feel a strange weakness in the calves 
 of my legs."
 
 52 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 " Thou art a fool, Jean Ribaut," retorted Marianne. 
 "A good Christian, whose conscience is clear, has no 
 cause to fear the devil ; " but as she spoke she thrust 
 her thumbs inwards, and secretly made the sign of 
 the cross, resolving that the marshal should taste the 
 best of her stores. 
 
 The two flat-bottomed barges which served for ferry 
 across the river-shallows went back and forth many 
 times before the Marshal de Retz was installed, com- 
 formably to his whimsical wish, in the one remaining 
 tower of the ruined castle. Des Armoi'ses and his 
 companion, as soon as their presence was observed, 
 were bidden to make part of his company for the night. 
 
 The chateau of Domremy had been uninhabited, as 
 Marianne had said, for twenty years, and comfort with 
 in its walls was out of the question; but the warm 
 summer night made a canopy of star-bespangled sky 
 more desirable than the low smoke-begrimed ceilings 
 of the inn, and Des Armoises rejoiced in the sweet 
 breath that came across the river meadows, and in 
 the picturesque effect which the deepening shadows 
 lurking under arch and buttress gave to the ancient 
 pile. 
 
 The drawbridge had fallen to decay. The rusty 
 portcullis hung awry in its frame. The gradual fall 
 ing of the walls had filled the moat with piles of 
 rubbish. Grass grew over the untrodden courtyard,
 
 THE SONG OF JEANNE DARC. 53 
 
 as it did over the greater part of the island, kept 
 green and luxuriant by the mists that rose from the 
 river. The cows and goats of Domremy and Greux, 
 when astray for many days, were searched for and 
 often found upon the island where the peasants and 
 their flocks sought refuge in times of danger, the 
 sweet taste of the herbage lingering as a memory 
 in bovine minds. 
 
 The marshal stood in the doorway of the tower, 
 and gave a hand to Des Armoises and De Metz in turn. 
 
 "You are welcome," he said. "Jean de Novelonpont, 
 or De Metz, is an old comrade of mine, though he 
 fails to remember me as a friend. You, Sire Des 
 Armoises, come riding from the East in quest of ad 
 ventures, like Guyon and the rest of the knights of 
 chivalry of whom my jongleur will sing to you till 
 you are weary enough to sleep in even such a fox 
 hole as this. Then I will tell you, as I promised, my 
 story of the Maid, which is as strange as a page from 
 a romance." 
 
 His restless eyes, which turned from side to side 
 without the power to give or to encounter a steady 
 gaze, met and crossed Des Armoises 's look. The young 
 man felt a shudder of instinctive repugnance. Many 
 people experienced this uneasy consciousness of anx 
 iety or repulsion in De Retz's presence, and mur 
 mured a charm against the evil eye.
 
 54 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 A couple of bats frightened by the torches whirled 
 in a sudden flight across the marshal's face, flapping 
 it with their leathery wings. The contact aroused 
 a fury in the man; and forgetting to play the be 
 nignant host, he drew his sword with a quick im 
 precation, and cleft the air right and left, up and 
 down, with the agility of a practiced swordsman. The 
 devious Sittings of the bats and the flashing sword- 
 cuts made intersecting circles here and there, until 
 at last one of the intruders met the blade and fell 
 before it. 
 
 "A dead bat," cried De Retz with a hollow laugh, 
 " a noble foe, for perhaps it embodied the soul of 
 the churlish Lord of Domre'my, who resents our in 
 trusion of his domain. Take it, Francois, for the 
 nightly bubbling of thy wizard's caldron." 
 
 He lifted the body of the bat by the tip of the 
 wing, and flung it at his attendant, who looked up 
 with an angry frown. 
 
 " He is a wizard, but a benevolent one," continued 
 the marshal. " He will tell your fortunes better than 
 the best astrologer. He is a better prophet than 
 Christan de Pisan. Build up the fires, my men. The 
 dampness of a tomb is in these moldy walls. Seat 
 yourselves, gentlemen ; for the supper is ready, and 
 our landlord's sour wine will be grateful if it has 
 strength to warm our veins."
 
 THE SONG OF JEANNE DARC. 55 
 
 Although the marshal made a show of cheerful 
 hospitality, a gloomy constraint had fallen on his 
 guests, which a tolerable supper and Jean Ribaut's 
 best wine could not enliven. 
 
 " Something of the chill of the place has touched 
 our spirits," said De Retz. " Francois, call my jon 
 gleur, and bid him string his guitar, and sing us one 
 of his old chansons de geste" 
 
 The musician thus introduced entered the circle 
 with a bow to each in turn. He was a man between 
 forty and fifty ; but his snow-white hair and thin, bent 
 frame suggested a greater age. His eyes were bright, 
 and their look keen and intelligent, but at times anx 
 ious and full of an uneasy suspicion, which was con 
 tradicted by the assumed gayety of his manner when 
 he talked or sang. His hands were slim and white 
 as those of a woman ; and the delicacy of his features 
 suggested refinement and distinction, ideas ludicrously 
 at variance with his costume, the parti-colored gar 
 ments, slouch hat, and wide-sleeved mantle of a min 
 strel. 
 
 "Noble lords and ladies fair, though here I err, for 
 there are none of the latter, God give you his bless 
 ing," he began, running his fingers over the strings for 
 prelude. "What shall I sing? Will you have the 
 tale of the noble Gui de Bourgogne, or do you pre 
 fer the famous combat of the peerless Oliver with
 
 56 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 the noble giant Fierabras ? Or would this young 
 knight with the fair countenance like better to hear 
 of the loves of Doon and Nicolette? All are at the 
 tip of my tongue. The peers of Charlemagne are 
 better known to me than the noble knights and men- 
 at-arms who follow our royal master, Charles of France, 
 in his illustrious wars against the ancient enemies of 
 our country. The trouvere who is to write of their 
 renown has not yet appeared. Poetry, alas ! has taken 
 flight from our unhappy land; and only in the south, 
 where the barbarous langue d'oc vexes the ear, do 
 they still make pretense of verse-making. We must 
 turn to the past, the golden age of chivalry, to find 
 the models of all knightly virtues embalmed in 
 melody like a fly in amber. Choose, then, my masters, 
 and the best efforts of my art shall be at your com 
 mand." 
 
 "David's tongue runs like the clapper of a mill- 
 hopper," said De Retz. "Give him a subject for his 
 song, that we may have less of his speech. What shall 
 it be, a love ditty for our young knight-errant from the 
 East, whose face was made to please the women ? " 
 
 " No, " exclaimed Des Armoises ; " love and I for 
 ever parted company a twelvemonth since. Sing us a 
 tale of war and carnage, blood running to the saddle 
 bow, some of the wondrous deeds of Oliver or Roland." 
 
 " There is none better than the old song of Fiera-
 
 THE SONG OF JEANNE DARC. 57 
 
 bras," said the minstrel; and, touching his guitar, he 
 began to sing : 
 
 " Fierabras d'Alixandre fist moult a redouter ; 
 La ou voit Olivier sel prent a apeler ; 
 ' Olivier, or vien avant, si me venras armer, 
 Savoir se te porroie de bataille tourner.' 
 Et respont Olivier, ' Oserai m'i fier ? ' 
 ' Oil,' dist Fierabras, ' ne t'en estuet douter, 
 Ja ne serai traites tant com puisse durer.' 
 
 Et li doi baron brocent, si ont esperonne; 
 De plain eslais s'encontrent du tout abandonne. 
 Mirvilleus caus se donnent, bien se sont encontre, 
 Ha Diex ! com rice jouste ! mainte gent 1'ont loe." 
 
 "Not that antiquated Picard jargon of a century 
 ago," cried De Retz impatiently ; " my ears already 
 ache with the barbarous phrases they have been tor 
 tured with to-day. Sing us your song of Jeanne Dare, 
 David; it will serve as a prelude to my tale." 
 
 David flushed quickly, and looked shyly about him, 
 as he said, " I told you, gentlemen, that poetry was 
 dead in France ; but I was like a maiden who denies 
 her love while caressing some jewel that is its token. 
 I myself have made a changon de geste on the subject 
 of our heroic Maid. My master encourages me to 
 believe that it will live on the lips of singers long 
 after my bones are dust ; but as yet he alone has heard 
 it. I am loath to give it to an unsympathetic world. 
 Grant me indulgence for all shortcomings, and I will 
 sing it to you ; but first, let me explain that, in order to
 
 58 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 construct the framework of the piece, it was necessary 
 to falsify history according to the amiable habit of the 
 trouvere, who exalts imagination above fact. Jeanne, 
 like Charlemagne in the songs that praise him, 
 must absorb in her own person all the glory of the 
 time ; and, to make her end effective, it must be left 
 shrouded in mystery. She disappears : is it to die, 
 or to reappear in triumph to the discomfiture of her 
 enemies ? Judge from the song." 
 
 In a mellow voice he began to sing to the accompani 
 ment of his guitar the words of the last chanson de geste. 
 It was marked by a beauty of versification, a vigor of 
 action, and a strength of construction, which placed 
 its merit far above the similar compositions of a former 
 age. It was an epic of the times, having for its central 
 object the figure of the Maid, exaggerated into the pro 
 portions of a heroine of romance. History was sacri 
 ficed to poetical necessity. The trouvere could not 
 picture Jeanne dejected by the perfidy and indifference 
 of her allies, weeping at the retreat from Paris, betrayed 
 to her enemies at Compiegne. The Maid of the song 
 was invulnerable and omnipotent, a serene image of 
 victory, riding from conquest to conquest. By turns 
 she besieged and took Bordeaux, Bayonne, Dieppe, 
 Paris, Harfleur, Caen, and all the cities of Normandy, 
 except Rouen, before whose walls she disappeared, 
 without leaving a trace. A prophecy of her reappear-
 
 THE SONG OF JEANNE DAKC. 59 
 
 ance might be gathered from the closing lines. David 
 held the attention of his auditors from first to last. Des 
 Armoises was struck by the art of the composition. The 
 tedious recurring rhyming syllables were varied by the 
 skill of the poet, who avoided monotony of accent, 
 while preserving the prescribed form of the verse. 
 The dialogue of the personages, in which the trouveres 
 delighted, was employed by David in scenes of genuine 
 dramatic power. A vein of satire was displayed in the 
 delineation of the royal puppet, who was moved about 
 at the will of the Maid whose generosity restored to 
 him a kingdom. 
 
 De Retz and Des Armoises applauded loudly at 
 the close. De Metz sat lost in thought. 
 
 "It is well done," he said, "but it is not the truth. 
 Jeanne suffers at the hands of her friends. I beg 
 you will not give this to the world, good minstrel, 
 until the reality of her life is more clearly sifted from 
 the chaff of envy and detraction. For your clever 
 verses would further obscure her genuine character, 
 which was that of an inspired saint, rather than a 
 conquering Amazon." 
 
 David laughed, and gave no promise. Neither he 
 nor De Metz could foresee the singular fate that 
 awaited the poem. 
 
 ' After the minstrel's untimely end, the forgotten 
 manuscript was found by a pompous courtier given
 
 60 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 to the pursuits of literature, and eager for a fame 
 which was beyond his acquirement, since he was 
 handicapped by a heavy wit and slow performance. 
 He dared not pose as a po'et; but he chopped David's 
 graceful rhymes to pieces, and reunited them with 
 clumsy prose which hardly served to obscure their 
 original metrical form, while forever distorting them 
 and obliterating their merits. He added an account 
 of Jeanne's death and burial in a costly sepulchre, 
 which was equally at variance with the facts of his 
 tory and the purpose of the poet; and concluded with 
 a sycophantic reference to a royal patron, by describ 
 ing the marriage of Charles VII., and mentioning that 
 king's descendants to the third generation. 
 
 In this form the so-called " Chronicle of Lorraine" 
 has been a thorn in the side of historians from that 
 day to this. They have gravely considered it from 
 all points of view except the true one, deprecating 
 its inconsistencies, amazed at its statements, and 
 never beholding in its mangled and distorted shape 
 the chanpon de geste of the last trouvere. 
 
 The shadows deepened beneath the arches of the 
 tower; and the full moon, an hour high, sent shafts 
 of light through loophole and doorway, discovering 
 each crevice which Time's battering-ram had made 
 in the crumbling walls. 
 
 " Come," said De Retz, " since David has finished
 
 THE SONG OF JEANNE DARC. 61 
 
 his song, I will tell you my tale. Let us walk upon 
 the terrace while we talk." 
 
 The two young men willingly followed him into 
 the fragrant night. The eastern faQade of the tower 
 gleamed in the moonlight, as if built of white mar 
 ble ; and the marshal's shadow was cast like a blot 
 upon the dazzling sand where he stood, thoughtfully 
 regarding his companions, who had seated themselves 
 upon a fallen pillar in expectation of the promised 
 narrative. 
 
 "I was, as you know, the companion at arms of 
 Jeanne Dare," lie began. " I rode at her side when 
 we entered Orleans, and shared the welcome that was 
 given her on that memorable occasion. I was one of 
 the most honored assistants at the consecration of 
 the king at Rheims. In reward for my services I 
 was that day made marshal of France ; and I was 
 one of the four knights deputed to bear the sacred 
 vial from the abbey of Saint-Rdmi to the church of 
 Notre Dame. The abbe bore the holy vessel on a 
 fringed cushion ; while De Bossac, Graville, the ad 
 miral, and myself, on horseback, armed at all points, 
 with our banners in our hands, served as his escort; 
 
 and rode thus into the church as far as the choir, 
 
 
 
 and back again to the abbey when the service was 
 ended. It was a notable time. Jeanne, as she stood, 
 standard in hand, beside the altar, was a figure never 
 to be forgotten.
 
 62 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 " I remember a different scene, when the messenger 
 brought the news from Rouen to the king. La Tre*- 
 moille had taken pains that the tidings should not 
 reach the king's ears till after he had supped, and 
 was taking his ease, engaged in a game of cards with 
 some of the lords and ladies of the court. It may 
 be, messire, that in the distant East you have never 
 seen a pack of cards, and know not what study it 
 requires to understand them and the games that are 
 played with them. In the first place, there is an em 
 blematical and allegorical significance in every color, 
 heraldic device, and floral design. Then there is a 
 historical and poetical meaning in the figures and 
 their names which only the initiated can discover. 
 Thirdly, there are to be considered the number and 
 value of the spots, of various forms, croissant or car- 
 reau, trefle, pique, and cceur, and the different com 
 binations to which they can be put. 
 
 " The king sat at a table with Gerarde Gassinel at 
 his right, and Etienne Chevalier at his left. La Tre- 
 moille leaned familiarly upon Charles's shoulder. The 
 messenger entered the anteroom. A chamberlain took 
 the word from his lips, and repeated it in a loud voice, 
 forgetting ceremony in excitement. ' Jeanne Dare 
 has been burned at Rouen,' he cried without prelimi 
 nary. Charles grew pale, and would have risen in 
 disorder ; but La Tre'moille gently detained him by
 
 THE SONG OF JEANNE DARC. 63 
 
 the pressure of his hand upon his shoulder, while 
 with the other hand he gathered up the cards which 
 the king's trembling fingers would have let slip. 
 'Remember, Sire,' he said, 'that in the game of piquet 
 the king of spades outranks the queen of diamonds.' 
 You should know, messire, in order to understand 
 the aptness of the allusion, that the king of spades, 
 whose name is Apollin, represents Charles VII., and 
 the queen of diamonds, whose device is En toy te fie, 
 stands for Jeanne Dare. 
 
 " Charles sank back into his chair without uttering 
 a word ; and La Tremoille played his cards to the 
 end of the game, though the king no longer lent 
 it his attention." 
 
 Des Armoises uttered an exclamation of incredulous 
 horror, and Novelonpont started in angry excitement. 
 
 " Is it for this you have brought us here ? " he cried, 
 "to relate the stale gossip of the court, where more 
 than one disgraceful scene has been enacted that 
 would better be forgotten. Answer me these ques 
 tions, Lord de Retz. Who shut the gates of Com- 
 pie"gne in her face, and left Jeanne to be taken by 
 her enemies? Who stood aloof, and made no sign 
 for rescue or ransom when she was held a prisoner 
 at Beaurevoir? Who allowed the completion of the 
 devil's pact by which she was sold to the English 
 fiends? Who ignored the lingering agony of her
 
 64 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 trial, and made no protest against the deed at Rouen, 
 the most heinous crime that blots the annals of history, 
 saving only the greater crime at Calvary. Charles 
 the King must answer to each accusing question at 
 the bar of God's judgment; though to each La Tre*- 
 moille also must plead guilty as the instigator of 
 the villainy, and the king as wax in his hands." 
 
 "These are bold words, Novelonpont," said the 
 marshal. " Spoken to another than a friend, they 
 might be construed as treasonable. I admit the apathy 
 of the king, but your censure of it is founded on 
 ignorance. He knew, as I did, that Jeanne was not 
 burned at Rouen. She escaped death and prison. She 
 still lives and is well." 
 
 " You have contrived a pleasant fiction to entertain 
 us with, Sire de Retz," said De Metz, with an ironical 
 smile. "It is, however, not a new one, for I have 
 heard it in all forms from the credulous common 
 folk. A learned priest once told me that every na 
 tion has its buried champion, whose death the people 
 refuse to credit. These heroes sit in their sepulchres 
 in a living but unbroken sleep, awaiting the hour 
 which fate has decreed for their return in triumph to 
 the rescue of their beloved land. But why should 
 you mock us by this extravagance ? The event is 
 still too near, and our hearts too sore to bear the 
 jest."
 
 THE SONG OF JEANNE DARC. 65 
 
 " Jean de Novelopont, or De Metz," said the marshal 
 impressively, " listen to me. When the prisoner was 
 led to execution at Rouen, you may remember, any eye 
 witness will tell you, that her face was hidden from 
 view by an enormous mitre which concealed the greater 
 part of her countenance ; and a huge frame covered 
 with insulting phrases was carried before her which 
 completely hid her figure. When the disfiguring flames 
 had done their work, the body was exposed to the view 
 of the populace, to assure them that a woman, unrecog 
 nizable then, had really suffered death, so quickly was 
 the conviction spread in every mind that at the last 
 moment Jeanne had escaped her foes. By many this 
 has been maintained, as you have said, from that day to 
 this ; but not till La Tre'moille fell from power could 
 those in whose hands Jeanne has trusted herself declare 
 the secret, and then only in confidence to a few trusty 
 friends. The hour has not yet come when the truth 
 can be made known to all. Political considerations of 
 the greatest importance forbid her appearance at this 
 time. She must wait until she can receive the welcome 
 of a united France. You need not doubt my informa 
 tion when I tell you that within a year Charles and 
 Philip of Burgundy will meet as brothers. There will 
 be no more talk then of Dauphinois or Bourguignons. 
 All will be Frenchmen, banded together against a com 
 mon foe. Then the time will be ripe for Jeanne Dare
 
 66 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 to arise, like your buried heroes from their tombs, and 
 lead the way to the final victory over the English, 
 which she often foretold as the end of her mission." 
 
 " What a glorious idea ! " exclaimed Des Armoises. 
 " Your minstrel must weave that ending into his 
 romance before he gives it to the world." 
 
 "Alas, that it should be romance and not truth," 
 said Novelonpont. "If Jeanne were alive, we, her 
 friends, would know it. Her brother would not have 
 died of grief at her loss. She would have found some 
 way to convey the joyful tidings to her stricken 
 family." 
 
 De Retz drew himself up haughtily. " You attack 
 my honor, by questioning my word," he said. "You 
 shall see Jeanne Dare and speak to her a twelvemonth 
 hence." 
 
 "Are you willing that I should tell the news at 
 once to her unhappy parents ? " asked Novelonpont 
 ironically. 
 
 "As I have told you, imperative reasons of state 
 demand delay," replied the marshal. " I do not forbid 
 you to reveal what you have heard ; but remember that 
 the burden of proof will rest on you, and the ills that 
 result to France, to the king, to Jeanne herself, will 
 be the work of your blundering zeal. She is safe in 
 the hands of friends diplomatic enough to arrange all 
 for her good ; men who are deeply conversant with the
 
 THE SONG OF JEANNE DARG. 67 
 
 politics of the time, who feel the pulse of the nation, 
 who unravel the devious lines of contrary policies and 
 guide them to their end. I have told you this freely as 
 to trusted comrades. I can add no more, but bid you 
 wait patiently, but with hope. When next we meet 
 the Maid may be of our company." 
 
 " Will it be within a year ? " asked Des Armoises. 
 
 " I fancy it will prove so," replied the marshal. " I 
 follow the court or the army ; you, I believe, go to 
 Metz ; Novelonpont here has a post at Vaucouleurs, 
 where he serves his king and country as collector of 
 imposts. But when Charles and Philip join hands we 
 will meet again, shall we say at Metz, your native 
 town ? Ay, let us fix the rendezvous there ; a year 
 hence if God wills, two years it may be, in Metz, 
 to welcome the Pucelle." 
 
 "With all my heart," cried Des Armoises. "I would 
 give all I own to meet that glorious being in the flesh." 
 
 " You shall do so at a less price," said De Retz ; 
 " but yonder comes a messenger I have been expect 
 ing. I will receive him, and return to you again." 
 
 He waved his hand in farewell, and strolled to the 
 farther end of the terrace, where, after gazing steadily 
 for a while across the rippling current of the river as if 
 engaged in watching the approach of a boat invisible to 
 the others, he made a turn, and disappeared behind the 
 wing of the chateau, on that side a mass of ruins.
 
 68 
 
 IHE SHIELD OF THE FLEUii-DE-LIS. 
 
 CHATTER V. 
 
 FAREWELL TO DOMREMY. 
 
 alone together, the young men regarded 
 each other seriously, as if divining a 
 possible difference, and girding them 
 selves for the argument. 
 
 " If it were true," began Des Ar- 
 moises, " it would be an atonement for 
 the cruelest injustice that has ever been done to our 
 faith in the ultimate triumph of virtue. It would 
 reconcile me to the possibilities of life." 
 
 "It is not true," said Jean de Metz seriously. 
 " What could be the marshal's object in inventing 
 so serious a deception, and one so easily disproved?" 
 asked Robert. 
 
 " I cannot answer for that ; but he is like his father, 
 the devil. To speak a lie is easy to him. You do not 
 know the man as I do." 
 
 " What evil do you know of him ? " 
 "The sort that is whispered in corners. He is a 
 powerful nobleman and highly connected ; he is rich, 
 wellbred, and well educated ; he can write Latin like
 
 FAREWELL TO DOMREMY. 69 
 
 a priest. He keeps a choir of boys educated in music 
 at his expense for the service of his private chapel, 
 and carries them in his train when he is to be long 
 from home. He endows convents, and gives rich gifts 
 to the church." 
 
 "These things are not to his discredit," interposed 
 Robert. 
 
 " But," continued De Metz impressively, " they say 
 he has sold his soul to the devil." 
 
 Robert laughed heartily, glad of an occasion for 
 merriment; but nothing could move his companion's 
 solemnity. 
 
 " I hope you may always be able to laugh," said De 
 Metz. " Most of those who meet him feel the effect 
 of liis companionship sooner or later in a misfortune 
 that comes they know not how; but come it does, 
 and from him." 
 
 ".Pardon me, my friend," said Des Armoises ; "but 
 as I lack your previous acquaintance with the subject, 
 I am unable to understand the ideas which may sup 
 ply you with bridges across the gaps in your logic. 
 As it appears on the surface, your argument has no 
 more force or consistency than an old wife's tale." 
 
 " You may ask any who know him," said De Metz. 
 " He is abhorred and feared. They say the vaults of 
 his castles could reveal terrible secrets. He has twice 
 narrowly escaped the accusation of murder."
 
 70 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 "How could he escape if guilty?" asked Robert. 
 
 " You do not know the state of France, or you 
 would not ask that question," said De Metz. " The 
 great nobles are like robber chieftains. They torture, 
 kill, exact tribute, pillage, and burn. Their own 
 relatives, father or brother, are sometimes starved or 
 poisoned within their walls. People speak of these 
 crimes with bated breath. There is no power to aid 
 when the king is powerless and the church divided. 
 France has slain her Messia*h, and she must endure 
 the sword." 
 
 "This, indeed, is serious if true," exclaimed Robert; 
 "but it furnishes me with no certain reason for dis 
 trusting the marshal's story. I believe that Jeanne 
 Dare lives, that I shall meet her, and vow my sword 
 to her service. That would give an object to my 
 life, which at present it sadly lacks. Did you ever 
 love, De Metz, and suffer betrayal in the midst of 
 your paradise? " 
 
 " I love no woman but my sister," replied Novelon- 
 pont. 
 
 " Then you are invulnerable," said Robert. " Love 
 alone caa debase and ensnare the will of a man. 
 Independent of that foolish passion, he is a reason 
 able being, capable of fulfilling the conditions of his 
 nature, and existing in harmony with the ruling will 
 of the universe."
 
 FAKEWELL TO DOMREMY. 71 
 
 " You talk oddly for a soldier," said De Metz. 
 
 " I am a soldier, as any gentleman of rank must be 
 who has nothing with which to justify his useless 
 existence but his sword. When I return to Metz I 
 suppose I shall marry, raise a family, and become a 
 peaceful citizen in that district. I own a castle at 
 Thichiemont." 
 
 "It is near my ancestral place," said De Metz. 
 "My sister is now in Metz at the house of an aunt. 
 I wish that you might see**her. Eudeline is as beauti 
 ful as an angel." 
 
 " Heaven grant I may meet with her," said Robert. 
 
 " It is because I trust you that I have named her 
 to you," said De Metz. " I can see that you are dif 
 ferent from most young men of your station. You 
 would not wrong a woman." 
 
 " No, by Saint Sophia," replied Robert. " Not even 
 to revenge the wrong a woman has done me." 
 
 " Eudeline, though not of noble birth, is worthy of 
 the highest alliance," continued Novelonpont. "She 
 has been carefully educated, and will receive a rich 
 dowry from the aunt she lives with." 
 
 "God send her a good husband," said Robert. 
 " Seriously, Novelonpont, I have no idea of marriage. 
 I mean to seek this Maid of France, and fight under 
 her leadership. I contrive to enjoy life, for I am 
 young; but I should not feel great concern if I knew
 
 72 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUK-DE-LIS. 
 
 that the next day that dawned was to be my last. 
 There is a deep, unhealed wound within my heart." 
 
 "Made by a woman, a woman will be able to heal 
 it," replied De Metz. " But do not count on meeting 
 the Maid of France on this side of the grave. The 
 marshal cannot raise her from the dead. You may 
 be sure that he has some evil purpose to serve in con 
 triving this story." 
 
 " The future must settle that question," said Rob 
 ert. " Do you ride to-morrow back to Vaucouleurs ? " 
 
 " Yes ; and shall be glad of your company so far, if 
 it suits you," replied De Metz. " I will make you wel 
 come as long as you choose in my quarters there, and 
 perhaps in return you will do me the favor to carry 
 a dispatch to my sister." 
 
 "With all the pleasure in life," said Robert. 
 
 " Then we part to meet in the morning," said De 
 Metz, rising. " Make my excuses to the marshal, if 
 he inquires for me. My spirits suffer from being so 
 long in his company. A night spent beneath the roof 
 that shelters him would be penance to me." 
 
 They parted on the river-bank, and Des Armoises 
 returned to the tower, where a comfortable bed \vas 
 prepared for him. The further events of the even 
 ing were somewhat confused in his memory of them, 
 Jean Ribaut's wine proving to be of unusual potency. 
 There was more of David's music, light ProvenQal love-
 
 FAREWELL TO DOMREMY. 73 
 
 songs for-the most part; and the marshal, growing gen 
 ial and expansive, told much gossip of the court. Des 
 Armoises had a vivid recollection of a picture that De 
 Retz had drawn of a new court beauty with wonder 
 ful blue eyes and dazzling shoulders, which, following 
 the latest fashion, she exposed with a freedom which 
 shocked the imagination of the young man, trained 
 in the decorous customs of the East. He had lis 
 tened to a dramatic account of the scene in the Castle 
 of Chinon when La Trdmoille was betrayed to his 
 enemies. Gilles de Laval recounted' this event with 
 the glee of satisfied hatred. 
 
 " The great man was in his bed," said the marshal, 
 "when Rosnieven and the other Bretons came upon 
 him with drawn swords. Pouf ! and Rosnieven ran 
 him through as he would a wild boar caught at an 
 advantage ; but the Sire de Beuil interposed. ' No 
 more,' he said; 'my uncle surrenders to me. He is 
 my prisoner. I shall be answerable for his safe con 
 duct.' So he was packed off to Montre"sor under the 
 very eyes of the king, who was in bed in the next 
 room, and kept calling out piteously, 'Treason! Mur 
 der ! To the rescue ! ' Charles D'Anjou had taken 
 pains there should be no rescue; for the doors were 
 locked on the side towards the post of the guards, 
 and only the outer postern was left open by the con 
 trivance of the governor. Never was a plot so well
 
 74 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 devised; and would you believe it? the great man's 
 
 ribs were so well larded with fat, that the sword 
 
 \ 
 
 thrust that would have been mortal for another did 
 him no harm." 
 
 Des Armoises slept late, and awoke from dreams 
 in which Jeanne Dare and Agnes Sorel figured inter 
 changeably, to find himself alone within the tower. 
 The marshal and his company had departed. Upon 
 the deal table, covered with half-emptied flagons and 
 plates, a piece of paper lay with a jewelled dagger 
 thrust through it, directing the eye to these words: 
 " Rather than break your tardy sleep, I leave my fare 
 well unsaid. Accept this dagger as a token of my 
 friendship. Let it be a reminder of my promise and 
 of yours that we shall meet, if God wills, when the 
 Pucelle appears in Metz." 
 
 Outside the sunshine was radiant over hill and val 
 ley. The peasants were at work in the fields. The 
 smell of the loam freshly turned in the furrow arose 
 from the dewy earth. Near the inn door a company 
 of idlers stood to watch the second departure of the 
 morning. Jean de Metz sat on his horse as motion 
 less as a sentinel on guard. By his orders the Ara 
 bian had been saddled and bridled, and stood awaiting 
 its masters coming, which it recognized from afar by 
 tossing its nose with a shrill whinny of welcome. 
 
 " I am ready, as I promised," said Jean de Metz in
 
 FAREWELL TO DOMREMY. 75 
 
 answer to Robert's apologies, " but I am in no haste. 
 We have the day before us, and I am as easy in the 
 saddle as on a cushioned seat." 
 
 Robert protested that he had no other business than 
 to settle his score, which he presently did, refusing the 
 offers of refreshment which Marianne and her husband 
 pressed upon him ; and the two young men started on 
 their journey, accompanied by the officious Robin, who 
 bestrode a rawboned horse that he was taking to pas 
 ture, and hatless and coatless, without saddle or bridle, 
 he served as their escort till they were well out of the 
 village. The jolting of his steed was emphasized by 
 the uneasy motions of his body, and the position of 
 his elbows alternately raised to the level of his ears 
 and depressed against his sides ; but although this in 
 terrupted, it did not check the flow of his eloquence. 
 He begged the worshipful gentlemen to remember him 
 if an occasion presented itself when a trusty man was 
 to be sought for ; he was conscious of a soul above the 
 drudgeries of his station, and was sure that if his merit 
 were rightly known, he might secure a place as squire 
 or armorer, or even as seneschal of a castle. If Jeanne 
 Dare had lived he had had hopes of rising through her 
 influence. 
 
 " I cannot be a priest, like my friend Pierre of Toul, 
 now Ambrose," he continued ; " for I have it not in me 
 to master the alphabet. Some men are born with a
 
 76 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 taste for letters, others for arms. But why should 
 Pierre rise higher than I? He is nothing better as a 
 man. And that reminds me to inquire of your worship 
 if you happen to know why he went last night at dusk 
 alone in a boat to the island? and why he met the lord 
 marshal there and talked with him ? " 
 
 Des Armoises declared his ignorance of the fact, 
 which somewhat excited his curiosity. " The marshal 
 left me for a time to welcome a messenger," he said ; 
 " it may have been the priest." 
 
 " It has an ill look," said Robin ; " what message 
 should he have for a great lord? Take my word for 
 it, Father Ambrose has something on his conscience ; 
 else why should he wear an iron chain for penance 
 beneath his clothes ? " 
 
 "Does he so? " asked Robert. 
 
 "Ay; I saw it once by chance when he threw off 
 his frock to pull out my cousin's child from the mill- 
 pond, where it was like to drown, a heavy iron 
 chain that wore the flesh." 
 
 " Be sure he is a holy man, who is as far above thy 
 comprehension as the stars of heaven," said De Metz 
 severely. " What does the croaking frog know of the 
 thrush's song?" 
 
 Des Armoises was surprised at this imaginative utter 
 ance from his silent companion. "You are right, De 
 Metz," he said. " Envy has always a carping tongue.
 
 FAREWELL TO DOMREMY. 77 
 
 You will not recommend yourself to either of us 
 by speaking against a man in every way your su 
 perior," he added to the open-mouthed Robin. 
 " Take this silver piece for your trouble, and leave 
 us here." 
 
 Robin dejectedly obeyed, for he had reached the 
 open field where his errand led him. The gentlemen 
 had not waited to hear the justification of his position 
 which he had at his tongue's end; for they had spurred 
 their horses, and were in a moment beyond the reach 
 of his voice. He watched them pause at the top of 
 a hill and turn to look behind them, as if bidding 
 farewell to Domre'my; then descending on the farther 
 side, they were soon out of sight. 
 
 The hostler took the halter from his horse, and 
 watched him as he began eagerly to crop the herbage. 
 
 " There is no justice in this world, Dapple," he 
 said. " It is the fault of the stars we are born 
 under. Thou art a raw-boned cart-horse, and can 
 never serve a gentleman as does that pink-nostrilled 
 foreigner, that could not draw a plough or do any 
 useful work, yet is promoted and daintily served. But 
 I do not feel it in me to submit as contentedly as 
 thou dost. Perhaps some happy turn of fortune may 
 place me yet in the position I deserve." 
 
 Cherishing these high thoughts, the hostler walked 
 homeward, swinging in his hand the halter, the
 
 78 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUK-DE-LIS. 
 
 release from which Dapple celebrated by rolling over 
 on the grass with all his hoofs set skyward, every 
 ambition satisfied in present contentment, thus illus 
 trating the contrast so pointedly drawn by Robin to 
 prove the innate superiority of man.
 
 JEANNE DARC LIVES. 79 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 JEANNE DAKC LIVES. 
 
 INCE it had first gained the notice of 
 the world, Domre'my had been swept 
 at various times by tidal waves of 
 emotion, and the souls of its inhabi 
 tants bore traces of the experiences 
 they had gone through, as rocks show the course of 
 prehistoric glaciers. Sensitive natures like Jacques 
 Dare were crushed and overwhelmed ; others like 
 Father Ambrose developed a tendency to religious 
 ecstasy ; but the greater number proved themselves 
 as hard and coarse as they had been before, but with 
 a new greed for sensation, and an overweening sense 
 of their own importance which made the gossip of 
 the village firesides, and especially of the inn at Greux, 
 the chief relish of their lives. 
 
 The news of the outside world was full of interest 
 during the two years succeeding the visit of the Mar 
 shal de Retz. The treaty of Arras, which reconciled 
 Burgundians and Dauphinois, and put an end to the 
 long civil war, was celebrated with rejoicings in Lor-
 
 80 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 raiiie and Champagne, as it was in all the provinces 
 of France. None but statesmen grumbled that the 
 king had bought peace with Duke Philip at too high 
 a price by humiliating concessions and great sacrifice 
 of estates and treasures. Now that France was united, 
 the English would soon be driven from the land ; and 
 when in the spring of 1436 Paris opened her gates 
 to the representatives of her lawful sovereign, the 
 people remembered the promise of Jeanne Dare that 
 " a greater gage than Orleans " should be given to 
 the king. 
 
 At the time of the Council of Arras the Duke of 
 Bedford died in the castle of Rouen, where his victim, 
 the Maid of France, had suffered the agony of her 
 imprisonment. Isabel of Bavaria, too, died in pov 
 erty and humiliation ; and it was recalled that it was 
 she who had shamefully fulfilled the first clause of 
 the prophecy, "A woman shall betray France, and a 
 maid shall save it." 
 
 Thus the thought of Jeanne Dare was in the air. 
 In the hour of triumph the heart of France turned 
 with yearning to the memory of its Messiah ; and as 
 if in answer to the appeal, there came the report, 
 sounded first in Lorraine, and echoed with tumultuous 
 joy in Orleans, " Jeanne Dare lives ! Another suffered 
 in her place at Rouen." 
 
 To the circle about Jean Ribaut's hearth, these
 
 JEANNE DARC LIVES. 81 
 
 tidings brought an intense excitement, which sur 
 passed all previous sensations ; but it was news of 
 a sort which could not be discussed within four walls. 
 Those who heard it rushed into the open air to tell 
 it to the first they met, and to inquire for more assur 
 ance of its truth. 
 
 No less a messenger than Jean du Lis had brought 
 the news from Vaucouleurs ; and he stood in the 
 market-place of Domre'my, his horse white with foam 
 and spent with fatigue, the centre of an eager crowd, 
 to whom he found it impossible to utter another word 
 than his first breathless declaration. 
 
 His brother Pierre led him aside, and drew from 
 him what he knew of this amazing piece of fortune, too 
 strange to be true, yet too well authenticated to be 
 denied. There were those who had seen Jeanne and 
 had spoken to her; and she had sent word to her 
 brothers to meet her in the city of Metz, where she 
 was at present residing. 
 
 With the brothers, the most important considera 
 tion was the need of communicating the news to 
 their mother. Pierre would have kept it from her, 
 fearing the shock of so great a joy, and fall of un 
 easy doubts as to the truth of the matter; but the 
 clamorous rejoicing of the populace was not to be 
 restrained. Robin climbed into the belfry of the 
 church and rang the bell, which had been given by
 
 82 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUK-DE-LIS. 
 
 the Duke of Lorraine as a memorial to Jeanne, so 
 loudly and wildly that Isabel flung her door open 
 to inquire the cause of the commotion. 
 
 Jean and Pierre hastened into the cottage, followed 
 by the curious eyes of all Domremy. Those who 
 pressed nearest to the door heard a muffled shriek ; 
 and Marianne Ribaut, from a point of vantage on an 
 overturned tub by the casement window, called out 
 in an agitated whisper, " She's fallen in a faint, and 
 they are undoing her bodice, and dashing water in 
 her face ; but old Jacques sits still in his chair by 
 the fire, and does not look nor listen. The house 
 might fall about his ears, and he would not heed 
 it." 
 
 Pierre shut the casement, and excluded all but the 
 nearest relatives, who could not be denied. Durand 
 Laxart, his uncle, frantic with joy, had followed Jean 
 to reinforce his statement. Jeanne Aubery, the god 
 mother of Jeanne Dare, and Aveline Voyseul, Isabel's 
 sister, had left their household work undone to share 
 the rejoicing of the family of Dare as they had shared 
 its mourning. 
 
 Isabel lay white and motionless upon the bed where 
 they had placed her ; but her eyes turned eagerly upon 
 each speaker, the group sitting, as she insisted, close 
 beside her, so that she could catch every word that 
 was spoken. Little by little excitement overcame her
 
 JEANNE DARC LIVES. 83 
 
 dizzy faintness ; and she rose with Jean's help, and 
 resumed her accustomed seat by the hearth, where 
 Jacques had remained all the while in silent quies 
 cence. 
 
 Isabel cast a scornful glance at the bowed figure of 
 her husband. " He knows nothing of what passes," 
 she said ; " well, let him be. It may be best for him. 
 I thought my heart would burst when Jean told me ; 
 and Pierre said, ' Mother, take it quietly. It may not 
 be true ; ' and with that I fell like a stone. How could 
 you say that, Pierre ? It must be true." 
 
 "Yes, yes," cried Durand Laxart, "my girl, my 
 own good Jeanne, would have escaped the flames if 
 there was a God in heaven. I once told Father Ful- 
 bert that since her death I had no more belief left 
 in me than a heathen ; and he bade me think of all 
 the martyrs, and do penance for my doubt." 
 
 " It can be easily determined," said Aveline. " Jean 
 and "Pierre must set out at once for Metz, and bring 
 Jeanne home; or if she is too busy in the wars to 
 come to us, bring back word how she does and what 
 she says." 
 
 "You will go, will you not, Pierre? " cried Isabel. 
 
 " Oh, yes," he said. " I will go at once, and make 
 proof of the truth of the mattgr with my own eyes." 
 
 " And I also," said Jean ; " not that there is room 
 for doubt, but we must have word from Jeanne's own 
 mouth of all that has passed."
 
 84 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 "What are ye chattering about, idle varlets," said 
 old Jacques, looking up suddenly from his revery. 
 "There are the cows to be milked, and the sheep 
 to be tended. No one works now-a-days. All goes 
 uncared for. It was jiot so when I was able to be 
 about. Then there was a rod for the back of the 
 slothful, and he who idled at his task went without 
 supper. To work, to work, every one of you." Say 
 ing this with a threatening glance about the circle, 
 he leaned his chin upon his hands, which were folded 
 upon the top of his staff, and relapsed once more 
 into silence. 
 
 "There is a wreck of a man," said Jeanne Aubery. 
 "Yet my brother is ten years younger than I, and 
 I never thought to live to see him like this. But 
 ever since Jeanne's death he has failed, ah, what 
 am I saying? Jeanne is not dead. How do you 
 make it out, Isabeau? It wearies my poor old brains 
 to puzzle over it. If my namesake and god-daughter, 
 Jeanne Dare, is alive and in the flesh, how comes it 
 that her father is but a senseless dotard with grief 
 at her loss, and your fine son Jacques is dead of 
 sorrow ? " 
 
 " Qh, it is cruel," cried Isabel with a sudden wail, 
 " to think that Jacques n*ed not have died. Oh, Jean, 
 think of that. Why was it so? Why could we not 
 have known? In all these five years was there no
 
 JEANNE DARC LIVES. 85 
 
 way thy sister could have sent us word, only a word 
 or a token to let us know the truth? Reproach her 
 with that when you meet her, Jean, and let her know 
 that we cannot take it kindly that she let us be so 
 deceived." 
 
 "A pack of silly women," muttered Durand Laxart; 
 "you would blame Jeanne for what you have suffered 
 when she herself has suffered tenfold. No doubt she 
 has been kept strict prisoner these five years, with 
 no way given her by which she could send the smallest 
 token to her friends, unless she could get a bird of 
 the air to carry it. I know my Jeanne's loyal heart 
 and her courage. Fear of death would not keep her 
 from ye if she had been free." 
 
 " Tis true ! " cried Isabel. " God's judgment light 
 on those who have so injured her. Who were they, 
 according to your opinion, Durand?" 
 
 " Only a wise man can unravel the politics of this 
 sad time ; but a guess may hit the mark," he answered. 
 "The Duke of Bedford has but lately died in the 
 castle of Rouen, and at the same time Jeanne is 
 returned to us. You can put two and two together 
 as well as I." 
 
 Durand's position in the family was that of an oracle 
 
 * 
 
 on all questions too high or too deep for common 
 minds ; since it was he who had believed in Jeanne 
 when all others doubted, and he had been the direct
 
 86 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUK-DE-LIS. 
 
 instrument of her success. Even Pierre, who had 
 fought beside his sister in the wars, and had been 
 made prisoner with her before the gates of CompiSgne, 
 was considered inferior to his uncle in the retrospective 
 judgment of the affairs in which he had borne an active 
 part. 
 
 . After Durand's answer the three women sat silent, as 
 if they found the subject beyond them. Pierre and 
 Jean were talking together apart from the rest. Pres 
 ently Isabel rose with tremulous energy, and began 
 to make preparations for her sons' departure 
 
 "You will take Jeanne some of my potted cheese," 
 she said; "and I wish you might carry her some of the 
 honey mead they make so well at the convent on the 
 hill. To be sure, she was never one to eat or drink ; 
 dry bread or black pudding was all the same to her; 
 and on Fridays in Lent I had much ado to make her 
 swallow enough for health. If it were Catherine, now, 
 she would wish for the best in the house. I remember 
 how she made our mouths water with stories of the 
 Duke's table, roast peacocks and herons, soups of all 
 kinds, pears and grapes and Orleans marmalade, with 
 spiced wine as free as water. She was always one to 
 enjoy herself." The mother heaved a sigh of regret, 
 and wiped a tear with the corner of her apron. "Now 
 that I have Jeanne back, it seems as if I must have the 
 others, Catherine and Jacques, to rejoice with me," she 
 added.
 
 JEANNE DARC LIVES. 87 
 
 " Surely, sister, you can't expect miracles to be done 
 for you alone," said Aveline scornfully. "I've buried 
 three children, and not one has come back to me." 
 
 "Those who have much want more," said Durand. 
 " Isabeau can never realize how the matter stands in 
 the eyes of the world. Who cares for Catherine or 
 Jacques except the few who have known them? All 
 France welcomes Jeanne Dare, and all England trem 
 bles before her." 
 
 Against the rhetoric of this speech Isabel was power 
 less. She continued packing a small chest with the 
 best offerings which affection could suggest, feeling a 
 bewildered sense of her own insignificance as compared 
 with the glory and greatness of her child. 
 
 When, on the following day, her sons set out on their 
 journey, the yearning of the mother's heart eclipsed 
 all other considerations. She clung to Jean's hand, 
 detaining him while she gave him a dozen messages 
 to deliver. " Wait, wait, Jean ! " she cried. " Tell her 
 I must see her. I will walk barefoot to Metz, if only I 
 can see her. Why did I not plan to go with you ? It 
 is I who should be the first to meet my child. Tell her 
 I must come to her, or she must come to me. Make 
 her return with you, Pierre. Do not leave her in peace 
 till she promises to come to me first of all." 
 
 Father Fulbert stopped the brothers at the church 
 door to give them his blessing, with his palsied hands
 
 88 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 laid upon their heads as they knelt before him. Tears 
 streamed from the old man's eyes. 
 
 "Tell Jeanne that I am going fast," he said; "and 
 that I can depart in peace and joy like Simeon if my 
 eyes may behold her once more before I die." 
 
 Half the population of the villages followed the two 
 as they started on their way. Robin remained until 
 the last, walking by Pierre's side as he rode slowly 
 to accept the farewell greetings of his friends. 
 
 " All happens by the will of God," said Robin. 
 " One is taken and another is left. You are noble 
 gentlemen, who will share half the estates of France 
 with your illustrious sister now she's alive and come 
 to her own again. The king in gratitude can do no 
 less than make you dukes and princes or marshals of 
 France, while I must remain as hostler at Greux. If 
 you find there is a vacant place as chamberlain or 
 seneschal, or any station that is dignified and with 
 good emoluments, I beg you'll use your influence to 
 get it for me, for old times' sake." 
 
 Jean laughed good-humoredly. " Our greatness is 
 still in the clouds," he said. 
 
 " I wish I might be as sure of my supper every 
 day as you are of the king's good-will," said Robin ; 
 " then I might sit down and fold my hands. Fare 
 well, Jean and Pierre. Remind your sister that once 
 when she was a child I carried her over a brook
 
 JEANNE DAE.C LIVES. 89 
 
 that she need not wet her feet. For that I think 
 she should in gratitude give me a place as governor 
 of a castle." 
 
 When the brothers had ridden onward and were out 
 of sight, Robin muttered to himself, "It was Cathe 
 rine, not Jeanne, I carried over the brook. No matter, 
 if the story will serve its turn. I would have done it 
 as willingly for Jeanne, though she was always shy, 
 and held herself apart. Well, Robin, thou hast not 
 yet come into a fortune. The day's work is still un 
 done, and I'll wager that by this time the pigs have 
 broken again into the barley-field. Mistress will be 
 in a rage. Well, I would risk more than that for 
 a good fat place at court, where I could serve the 
 king by eating and drinking." 
 
 " Thank God we are rid of that chattering fool," 
 said Pierre, when their road turned from the village 
 and plunged into the forest. As he spoke, he bared 
 his head to the breeze, which stirred the hoary branches 
 of the oaks and set their young leaves quivering. 
 The sunbeams, slanting among the roughened boles 
 of ancient trees and the slim saplings ranged be 
 tween, sent broken shafts of light across the road. 
 The horses' hoofs on the soft wgt earth made hardly 
 noise enough to scare the wild creatures of the wood 
 that peeped and rustled in leafy coverts. The 
 freedom of the wilderness, and the exuberant vitality
 
 90 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 of the springtime, touched Pierre's spirit with a sym 
 pathetic exhilaration, and relaxed the strain of his 
 nerves. 
 
 "I am glad we are on our way," he said. "I 
 have not eaten nor slept since we heard the news. 
 No wonder my mother frets her life out, shut up 
 within the four walls of her home. Give me action 
 and movement, a horse and a sword, and the world 
 before me, and I can endure everything." 
 
 u You talk as if our errand were not a joyful one," 
 said Jean. 
 
 Pierre shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " It's a fool's errand most likely," he said ; " but 
 who is that strange figure waiting yonder at the cross 
 roads ? It reminds me of the picture of Death on 
 horseback." 
 
 The junction of four roads was marked by a way 
 side shrine. A crucifix, roughly designed and crudely 
 painted, rose out of the violets and grasses into the 
 transparent air, crossed by bird flights and darting 
 butterflies. It set itself as a contradiction to the 
 scene about it, for nature teaches no heavenly truth; 
 but the figure on horseback was even more a discord 
 ance and a blot on the landscape. 
 
 Death could hardly look more pale and gaunt than 
 the human form whose vitality was attested by the 
 glowing eyes sunk in hollow sockets, and shaded by
 
 JEANNE DARC LIVES. 91 
 
 the cowl of a friar's mantle. The hands that held 
 the bridle were emaciated and transparently white. 
 
 " It is Father Ambrose," said Jean in surprise ; 
 and both young men mechanically crossed them 
 selves. 
 
 The two years succeeding the village festival when 
 he had addressed the people of Domre'my had brought 
 to Father Ambrose popularity in such a sort that he 
 had been obliged to withdraw from public contact in 
 order to escape its inconvenient manifestations. The 
 report of his asceticism, and the intolerable penances 
 which he set himself to perform, had gained him the 
 commendation of, the Archbishop of Toul, and the 
 offer of the richest charge within his diocese. When 
 the young priest chose instead a hermitage in an in 
 accessible wilderness, the people of Greux were con 
 tent to be pastorless that they might have the honor 
 of claiming for their nominal head a saint whose oc 
 casional presence at the high festivals of the church 
 lent them a fervor of mystical devotion. 
 
 Ambrose of Greux bade fair to rival Jeanne of 
 Domremy. A miraculous power was claimed for his 
 touch. Stories of his visions obtained currency in dis 
 tant provinces. 
 
 When the brothers came up with him they saluted 
 the priest respectfully, and he returned the greeting 
 with a smile. The sudden illumination of his face
 
 92 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUH-DE-LIS. 
 
 gave it for the time a likeness to his former self; and 
 the tones of his voice had the old melody as he said, 
 " If my company is welcome, I will join you on your 
 journey." 
 
 " What ! you will go to Metz ? " exclaimed Pierre. 
 
 " Yes. To welcome your sister." 
 
 " You believe, then, that it is Jeanne ? The event 
 seems credible to you?" urged Pierre, anxious to 
 silence his own doubts by another's assurance. 
 
 Father Ambrose evaded a direct reply. " When we 
 arrive at Toul, I shall receive special dispatches, the 
 contents of which I will make known to you," he said. 
 " They relate to the history and present prospects of 
 Jeanne du Lis, your sister." 
 
 " By Saint Re'mi, that name sounds odd in my ears," 
 cried Pierre. " The world will not know Jeanne Dare 
 under the new title which she long ago refused." 
 
 "Times are changed," answered Father Ambrose. 
 " You will greet her by the new name." 
 
 "But what is your opinion of the matter, father ?" 
 asked Jean. " What is your explanation of her long 
 silence and sudden reappearance ? " 
 
 " When we leave Toul, I will tell you all that I 
 know," he answered. " Till then conjecture is useless. 
 Let us defer the discussion of the subject." 
 
 With this the brothers were forced to content them 
 selves ; and the three journeyed amicably together dur-
 
 JEANNE DARC LIVES. 93 
 
 ing the day, the priest proving a pleasant companion. 
 He showed an almost childish interest in the scenes 
 about him, and a modest desire to win the confidence 
 of his fellow travellers, not as their spiritual superior, 
 but as one of their own age and station thrown by 
 chance into a temporary intimacy with them. 
 
 Something of the whimsical humor of Pierre of Toul 
 appeared in his conversation, chastened and refined by 
 the experiences through which he had passed as through 
 the flame of a furnace. 
 
 Jean and Pierre could not forget that this young 
 man of their own age was reported to bear at times on 
 his person the stigmata that marked his likeness to the 
 crucified Christ. They could not throw off their awe 
 of him, unbend as he might in encouragement of their 
 friendship. If in the course of conversation an oath 
 slipped from Pierre's lips, he "felt the rebuke which 
 Ambrose failed to administer even .by a look. Jean 
 was conscious of derelictions of principle which never 
 troubled his conscience except at the Eastertide con 
 fession when he prepared for the Mass. 
 
 When at nightfall they made a resting-place in the 
 forest, Father Ambrose having stipulated that the stages 
 of their journey should be arranged in avoidance of 
 towns or hostelries, the brothers lay awake in awe- 
 stricken silence, aware that their companion, who had 
 retired to a distance, was keeping a vigil of prayer, and
 
 94 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUIl-DE-LIS. 
 
 accompanying his confessions by the use of the flagel 
 lant's whip. 
 
 " Horrible ! " whispered Pierre. " I wonder how 
 many strokes I should have to give myself to square 
 the account with my conscience, if such a holy man 
 deserves so much." 
 
 A sunny morning brought them within sight of 
 Toul. Its housetops and chimneys and the spires 
 of its cathedral were visible from a distance ; and 
 Ambrose, leaning forward in the saddle, gazed with 
 a strained vision. 
 
 " It gleams in the sun like the city of the New Jeru 
 salem," he murmured. "Just so I saw it years ago 
 when I rode in the pride of youth along this path with 
 Jeanne Dare at my side." He pressed his hand upon 
 his heart with a gentle sigh. The brothers could not 
 know that with the movement three needle-shaped 
 points entered the flesh. 
 
 "Thank God! we shall soon reach a tavern," said 
 Pierre. " The heat and dust have dried my throat 
 into a condition of intolerable thirst. Hasten on, 
 Jean, to the Golden Lion just within the gates, and 
 bespeak the best in the house in advance of our com 
 ing. My horse has cast a shoe, and you must find 
 me a farrier. Meantime I must travel slowly along 
 these cursed stony cart tracks." 
 
 "Your orders, noble knight, shall be obeyed," said
 
 JEANNE DAKC LIVES. 95 
 
 Jean, in ironical submission. " My brother," he added, 
 "presumes on his dignity. He is a belted knight; 
 and I, two years his senior, must hold his stirrup as 
 his squire. It is another instance of the inequalities 
 of fortune of which Robin so justly complains. What 
 errand shall I do for you, father, in the city ? " 
 
 "I was about to give you a commission," said the 
 priest. " I do not mean to enter the gates. Go to 
 the palace of the archdeacon near the cathedral, and 
 inquire for a packet bearing the seal of the Marshal 
 de Retz, and addressed to Ambrose of Greux. It 
 will be handed you without question, if you show 
 this cross as a token." He detached a silver crucifix 
 from his girdle as he spoke. 
 
 " Must we leave you alone ? " asked Pierre r though 
 reluctant to relinquish his visions of a comfortable 
 seat at an inn table with a trim damsel in attend 
 ance. 
 
 "I will seek a seat in the shade and await you 
 here," replied the priest. "I have a scanty mess 
 of oats for my horse left in the saddlebag. He can 
 better his dinner by cropping the grass along the 
 road. I want no food myself, for it is a fast to-day. 
 Be as leisurely as you please. There is no haste in 
 our journey. But bring me the packet with all care 
 and safety." 
 
 Jean promised ; and $\e brothers took leave, Jean
 
 96 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUK-DE-LIS. 
 
 riding in haste, while Pierre followed at the easy and 
 dignified gait which became a knight. 
 
 Left alone, Ambrose carefully fed his horse, led 
 him to drink at a brook, and tethered him by the 
 roadside ; then he sought a secluded spot within the 
 grove that bordered the highway, where he flung 
 himself upon the grass at the foot of a wide-spreading 
 chestnut-tree. 
 
 The relaxation of his weary muscles was such a 
 solace that at first the priest's overstrained scruples 
 were ready to oppose the indulgence ; but tired nature 
 asserted its claims, and he remained passive, his 
 mind alone alert with the pitiless energy of accusing 
 thought. 
 
 Birds fluttered from bough to bough within reach 
 of his hand. Squirrels darted near him, unmindful 
 of his presence. Through the fresh green of the 
 foliage he watched the fleecy clouds sailing from 
 one blue haven to another driven by a celestial im 
 pulse. 
 
 "All moves by the will of God," he said, "except 
 the motions of a man's soul. A hurricane may darken 
 the heavens, the creatures of the wood may perish; 
 but on the morrow the sky smiles again, and the 
 joy of earth renews itself. Only in the heart does 
 every storm of passion leave irremediable ruin behind." 
 
 He groaned, and laid his aching head closer to the 
 earth.
 
 JEANNE DARC LIVES. 97 
 
 "O Mother Earth, would I were the simplest of 
 thy offspring, part of the teeming life which thou 
 dost bring forth and nourish for the life of a moment, 
 a gnat, a droning fly, a cobweb, a mote in the sun 
 beam, and then nothing forevermore. Oh, the sweet 
 ness of oblivion, the sinking into and being ingulfed 
 by that vast ocean, thought at rest, soul and body 
 liberated, hell's torments and heaven's joys alike in 
 different. Sinful thoughts, to be added to my load 
 of sin." 
 
 He groaned, and then lay silent with closed eyes. 
 In a moment he was in the spirit, entranced above 
 time and place. 
 
 He was in the midst of a vast sea of light, part of 
 which came from above and was heatless and lam 
 bent as moonshine, but with a greater brilliancy ; and 
 part from below, with the glare and scorching breath 
 of a furnace. After a time he was able to discern 
 the shapes of the blessed above, and far beneath, the 
 forms of those who writhed in the flames of hell. 
 He avoided the sight of the latter, and turned his 
 eyes heavenward, but without discerning more than 
 dim outlines of those who walked in a radiance that 
 dazzled his eyes and prevented his seeing any object 
 clearly. 
 
 Soon he was aware that the level where he stood 
 stretched out in a billowy surface like the tops of
 
 98 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUK-DE-LIS. 
 
 summer clouds; and at his feet he saw a number of 
 men and women wrapped in white garments like 
 grave-clothes, and lying motionless in slumber except 
 for the regular breathing, which was like that of a 
 child in its cradle. 
 
 "Who are these?" he asked; and a familiar 
 presence answered, " They are those who have lost 
 heaven because they have sinned, yet have not 
 deserved punishment because they gave themselves 
 for others. They sleep, and know not grief nor pain. 
 They will awake only at the judgment." 
 
 "And after that?" he cried. 
 
 " They will be blown out like the flame of a candle," 
 said the voice. 
 
 Ambrose felt his tears upon his cheeks. " It is 
 what I have prayed for," he said. "But oh, Jeanne, 
 I hear your voice ! Why can I no longer see your 
 face in visions?" 
 
 "The heavenly vision is not for those who sleep," 
 was the answer. 
 
 Ambrose awoke. The dull light of day was about 
 him. The dusty road stretched like a white chalk- 
 mark between the fence rows and thickets ; and along 
 it a line of pack-mules were being driven, laden with 
 merchandise, while their owners filled the air with 
 noisy talk, oaths, and idle songs. 
 
 He was conscious of an overpowering craving for
 
 JEANNE DAEC LIVES. 99 
 
 food. The scattered oats in the bottom of the saddle 
 bag tempted him. The sight of a coarse wheaten 
 loaf, broken and munched by a couple of children 
 who were carrying bundles of fagots, filled him with 
 physical longing. 
 
 "I can resist no longer," he said; "my fast may 
 well end at noon ; ' ' and he gave one of the children 
 a piece of money for the half of the loaf which 
 remained. This he ate with a voracity which shamed 
 his delicacy. 
 
 " We are beasts on one side of our nature, fallen 
 angels on the other," he said, preparing to saddle his 
 horse. 
 
 A company of ladies and gentlemen returning from 
 a hunt rode by, and stared at the lonely priest with 
 a disordered cowl and a bridle hung over his arm. 
 
 " Too much drinking in taverns, good father, has 
 inconveniently approximated your vespers and matins," 
 called out one of the party; and the ladies laughed 
 at the witticism, as they rode on and disappeared in 
 a cloud of dust.
 
 100 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 FATHER AMBROSE'S CONFESSION. 
 
 'EAN and Pierre returned from the city 
 early in the afternoon, and the trav 
 ellers pursued their way until sunset, 
 when they halted for the night in a 
 spot which Ambrose had selected for 
 their bivouac. Every road and byway 
 within a day's journey of Toul was familiar to him ; 
 and his thoughts had dwelt from the start upon a 
 certain sloping hillside bounded by a brook which 
 crossed the road to fall into a mill-pond and turn a 
 creaking wheel. 
 
 Only this noise betrayed the neighborhood of 
 human industry ; but from a turning in the path 
 where the trees receded to form an open glade, a 
 distant view of Toul could be had. 
 
 " This is a place which I have loved from child 
 hood," said Ambrose. " It is connected with many 
 of the important events of my life, if thoughts and 
 emotions, and moods of intense feeling, are to be 
 accounted events. I have chosen it, therefore, as
 
 FATHER AMBROSE'S CONFESSION. 101 
 
 the scene of a confession which I am to make to 
 
 you." 
 
 "You confess to us!" cried Jean and Pierre in a 
 breath ; and the former added, " When I got the 
 packet from the archdeacon, he came himself to put 
 it into my hands, and asked me more than a dozen 
 times where the holy Ambrose was to be found, and 
 why he did not come himself to the palace that he 
 and my lord bishop and the rest might kiss his robe 
 and ask his blessing." 
 
 Ambrose looked up in frowning protest. "The 
 journey I take is not for my honor," he said. " After 
 this day there will be two upon earth, Pierre and 
 Jean du Lis, who know me as I am, a lost and mis 
 erable sinner." 
 
 His listeners stared aghast. 
 
 " Sit down at ease," he said : " the story is a long 
 one, and how hard to put into words, God only knows. 
 I must tell you that as men judge, I have committed 
 no mortal sin, no act of villainy, no premeditated 
 crime. Penance and prayer have absolved me from 
 the faults of a wild and headstrong youth. They are 
 not those that most vex my conscience. But errors 
 of judgment, weaknesses of will, the idolatries of self- 
 seeking, may plunge a man into the- lowest hell be 
 fore he knows his danger. Promise me that you 
 will listen in silence, and that you will not quit 
 this spot till I give you leave."
 
 102 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 The brothers promised, full of an awe-struck curi 
 osity. 
 
 "All the world knows that I loved Jeanne Dare, 
 and sought to wed her against her will and contrary 
 to her vow," began Ambrose. " For that sin I do 
 daily penance ; but two only know that after her 
 death I loved and sought to wed her sister Catherine." 
 
 Jean and Pierre started with exclamations of sur 
 prise. 
 
 " It is a shameful thing," continued Ambrose in a 
 monotonous voice, " to so soon replace one affection 
 by another, yet men have done it without shame. 
 It was my fate to be forever at odds with the ordi 
 nary conditions of life. First I must set my passion 
 at war with Jeanne's vow, and suffer defeat and God's 
 judgment against me. Next I must discover that I 
 loved Catherine more madly than ever I loved Jeanne, 
 only after I had adopted the robe of a novice, and 
 promised myself to the priesthood." 
 
 He paused, and drew his hand across his brow 
 where drops of sweat were starting. The condemna 
 tion which he knew to await each disclosure was tor 
 ture to his sensitive spirit. He did not dare to meet 
 the eyes that watched him now with the keenness of 
 aroused personal consciousness foreseeing an affront. 
 
 " Catherine was like Jeanne in looks," he continued ; 
 " almost her very image ; but in her ways she was
 
 FATHER AMBROSE'S CONFESSION. 103 
 
 a being of another world. She had learned many 
 of the arts of the great ladies at Nancy ; and she 
 practiced them on me, on Robin at the inn, on any 
 man that crossed her path, but all with dignity and 
 high disdain, as who should say, * You may love me 
 from afar.' This is a challenge to a man's spirit, if 
 he be such a man as I was. I followed her to Nancy, 
 exchanging my monkish habit for the richest suit I 
 could afford. I hung about the castle, cringed, sued, 
 suffered rebuffs, to be rewarded sometimes by a meet 
 ing when she could steal a moment from her task; 
 but she would at no time give me any other assur 
 ance of her affection than the doubtful declaration 
 that if I had not been born the son of a cobbler she 
 might have cared for me. Meantime my pursuit of 
 the duchess's waiting-maid was talked about among 
 the servants, until it reached the ears of the guests 
 of the castle ; and in an unlucky hour this idle chat 
 ter drew upon Catherine the notice of a nobleman 
 who had come on a mission for the king to Duke 
 Charles. This was the Marshal de Retz, whom you 
 have seen. 
 
 " Catherine told me that he had declared to her 
 that she was the very likeness of her sister Jeanne, 
 in whose company he had entered Orleans; and for 
 the sake of Jeanne's memory he had offered her a 
 place to attend upon his wife at a high salary if she
 
 104 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 would leave Nancy, and go with him to Brittany. 
 I warned her what such offers might mean, and she 
 promised not to listen to them. 
 
 " One morning Catherine was missing. It was re 
 ported that she was drowned in the river. I went 
 to the marshal, and accused him openly of some vil 
 lainy. He laughed at me, and ordered me home to 
 my convent. Later he came to me in secret, and 
 told me a story stranger than my wildest imaginings. 
 I refused to credit him ; and he left me in anger, prom 
 ising that some day I would be glad to act as his 
 coadjutor. He threatened at the same time that if 
 I revealed his connection with the affair he would 
 accuse me of Catherine's murder, bringing one of 
 his servants to witness that I had been seen with 
 her near the river on the day of her disappearance. 
 I went home to Domre"my stricken at heart. I be 
 came a priest. I mortified the flesh. I lived as you 
 know. But Catherine's fate was never for a moment 
 absent from my thoughts. 
 
 " On the day of the May festival I once more saw 
 the Marshal de Retz ; and that night I talked with him 
 in secret ; and again he told me of the plan by which he 
 meant to secure the king's renown, France's glory, his 
 own reputation, and deliverance from pressing charges 
 devised by his enemies for his discredit. All this was 
 to be accomplished, as you may have guessed, by the
 
 FATHER AMBROSE'S CONFESSION. 105 
 
 substitution of Catherine Dare in the place and with 
 the character of her sister Jeanne." 
 
 Pierre sprang to his feet with a mighty oath. 
 
 " Patience,'' urged Ambrose. " Let me finish unin 
 terrupted as you promised. The marshal swore to me 
 upon the most sacred relics that Catherine's position 
 while in his castle had been that of an honored guest ; 
 and that during the two years which she had spent in 
 a convent, she had been treated with the distinction 
 that would have been accorded to Jeanne herself. The 
 dispatches which awaited me in Toul announce the 
 appearance of the false Jeanne at Metz." 
 
 He unrolled the sheets of manuscript, and translated 
 from the Latin in which language they were written, 
 the following sentences : " It is necessary that the 
 brothers of Jeanne should openly acknowledge her. 
 No skepticism could oppose itself to such a triumph 
 ant vindication of her claims." 
 
 "Death and damnation!" cried Pierre. "Do you 
 expect us to lend ourselves to such a dishonorable 
 scheme ? No, by Saint Re*mi ; a thousand times no. 
 I will denounce the imposture and the authors of it. 
 The marshal shall answer before the highest court in 
 the realm for his detention of my sister these two years 
 against her will." 
 
 " Listen," said Ambrose. " The marshal is a man 
 who stops at nothing. He writes that a company of
 
 106 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUli-DE-LIS. 
 
 soldiers are to lie in ambush on our road to Metz, and 
 that we pass safely only on my giving the signal agreed 
 upon in the event of your acquiescence." 
 
 "Your warning defeats his purpose," said Pierre 
 with a harsh laugh. "We need not continue our 
 journey to Metz." 
 
 " Moreover," added Ambrose, " he declares that your 
 sister's safety is contingent upon your decision." 
 
 " That is a straw in the balance against my honor," 
 said Pierre. 
 
 "Why, no honor is lost, if we welcome Catherine as 
 our sister," said Jean. " She is surely that ; and right 
 glad I should be to see her again. I loved her as well 
 as Jeanne ; better, perhaps. We owe it to her to de 
 liver her from the power of this wicked man." 
 
 " That we shall do by rousing all France to help us 
 cry shame upon the marshal," said Pierre. 
 
 " You will not live to do it," said Ambrose. " He 
 threatens more than I have told." 
 
 "Perhaps he has hired you to put poison in our meat 
 and drink," said Pierre. " Since you speak as his 
 mouthpiece, you are no doubt in all things his willing 
 tool." 
 
 "Willing?" said Ambrose, "ah, how unwilling; but 
 I bow to the power of necessity. My own honor, hap 
 piness, salvation even, must be imperilled to pay the 
 debt I owe to Catherine."
 
 FATHER AMBROSE'S CONFESSION. 107 
 
 " Be reasonable, Pierre," urged Jean. " Consider if 
 you have a right to plunge our mother into further 
 distress." 
 
 " Why, what would you have me do ? " asked Pierre, 
 turning angrily upon his brother. 
 
 " Wait, and be patient," answered Jean. " At any 
 moment it will be in our power to expose the marshal's 
 design; and we can do this the better when we are 
 more familiar with his plans. It will not do to oppose 
 our ignorance to his settled purpose. That would be 
 to fight unarmed, and in the dark ; but if by appear 
 ing to yield, we throw him off his guard, we shall be 
 in a better position to attack him later." 
 
 "You forget," said Pierre, with scornful emphasis, 
 " that you speak in the hearing of a hired spy, who 
 is ready to deliver our lives into the marshal's, 
 hands." 
 
 " I deserve your scorn, but not your suspicion," 
 said Ambrose meekly. "It is not for money that I 
 risk my soul. Catherine's happiness is the sole object 
 of my life. I am the unhappy cause of every hour 
 of grief that she has suffered. No reparation is too 
 great for me to make." 
 
 " We owe her something also, do we not?" asked 
 Jean, "and something to our mother, who would die 
 from such a disappointment." 
 
 Pierre strode up and down in moody reflection.
 
 108 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 "Say what you may, I cannot tarnish my honor as 
 a knight and a man by descending to the infamy to 
 which our friend the priest finds it easy to reconcile 
 his conscience," he declared. 
 
 Ambrose sighed heavily. " I struggled Avith all the 
 power of my soul," he said. "If there were a way 
 of escape I should have found it." 
 
 "A priest is only half a man," said Pierre. " It 
 was a soldier who cut the knot that no one else 
 could undo. Because you are frightened by this 
 man's threats I need not be." 
 
 " You do not know the marshal," said Ambrose 
 wearily. "No one whose heart is pure can realize the 
 depths of evil of which the human soul is capable, 
 or the strength of Satan's hosts when they are op 
 posed only by the feeble will of man." 
 
 " Of what use are your prayers ? " asked Pierre 
 tauntingly. " If they cannot help you, the offices 
 of the church must be a mockery." 
 
 "Spare me," pleaded Ambrose. "Do not make my 
 sin an argument against the estate from which I 
 have fallen. Let not man's evil cast discredit upon 
 God's goodness. ' For thou continuest holy, O thou 
 Worship of Israel.' ' 
 
 He raised his eyes, while his wan face shone for 
 the moment with a light of self-forgetful devotion. 
 
 " You are a strange man, Ambrose," said Pierre.
 
 FATHER AMBROSE'S CONFESSION. 109 
 
 "I know not whether you are a saint or a devil. 
 Tell me what you mean to do in Metz." 
 
 "I shall devote my life to the service of Jeanne 
 du Lis," he replied. "Catherine Dare will be known 
 henceforth by, that name. I will be her friend, coun 
 sellor, and spiritual adviser. The remorse that she 
 might suffer shall be mine. I will do penance to 
 atone for her fault against the truth." 
 
 " But are you so dull as to fancy that this absurd 
 imposture can for a moment succeed?" asked Pierre; 
 "not one in ten will be deceived by a false Jeanne 
 Dare." 
 
 "Then mine shall be the infamy of detection when 
 it comes," said Ambrose. "She must not be blamed 
 except as the tool of others. I will stand between 
 her and all the ills of her strange, unnatural position." 
 
 " You love her still, false priest that you are," 
 cried Pierre. 
 
 "Ah, not in the old way," answered Ambrose. 
 "The fires of earthly passion will never again burn 
 in the dead cinder that is my heart. I love her as 
 a father does his child." 
 
 Pierre disdained further conversation, and retiring 
 to a distance he wrapped himself in his cloak, and 
 slept or pretended slumber ; while Jean, full of a rest 
 less curiosity, asked the priest a hundred questions 
 concerning the strange events which he had related.
 
 110 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 Ambrose submitted to the interrogation, but his 
 answers were vague and unsatisfying. Like Pierre, 
 he was absorbed by a secret preoccupation ; and soon 
 he excused himself, and stole away into the deeper 
 recesses of the woods. 
 
 " Pierre," said Jean, flinging himself down beside 
 his brother, "tell me what you are plotting and plan 
 ning so silently. What is it you mean to do?" 
 
 Pierre raised himself upon his elbow, and placed 
 his mouth close to his brother's ear. 
 
 " I shall have revenge upon the Marshal de Retz," 
 he answered, " and rather than allow Jeanne's fame 
 to suffer traducing, I will kill Catherine with my 
 own hands." 
 
 " That would be to choose one evil for another," 
 replied Jean. " How would it serve Jeanne's fame if 
 the noble knight, Pierre du Lis, should be executed 
 as a murderer, after exposing his sister as an impos 
 tor, and bringing eternal infamy upon his name and 
 hers?" 
 
 Pierre sighed impatiently, but made no reply. 
 
 " I have no sympathy for those who run full tilt 
 at everything that opposes their fancy, like a mad 
 bull at a rag," said Jean. " A wise man takes the 
 world as he finds it. Let Catherine and the marshal 
 divide between them the guilt of the imposture ; and 
 let it be our part to save what vestige of credit
 
 FATHER AMBROSE'S CONFESSION. Ill 
 
 there may remain to our family out of a ruinous sit 
 uation." 
 
 " 'Po palter with disgrace is to share it," said Pierre. 
 
 "It is not disgrace, if known only to yourself," 
 answered Jean. " At present the country is ringing 
 with Jeanne's praises. The tide of popular favor runs 
 so strong that it will force the Pope to grant rep 
 aration for the church's sentence against her, and re 
 habilitation of her fame. A living Jeanne will have 
 more power than a dead one. If sentence was not 
 executed against her, it was because it was not 
 rightly confirmed, so it will seem. As for the result 
 of the matter, leave it to those who are responsible 
 for it. We need not meddle with it." 
 
 "The result will be shame and dishonor, reason it 
 how you will," groaned Pierre. 
 
 " I do not know that," said Jean. " Let us hope 
 for the best." 
 
 " There have been pretenders known before in the 
 world's history," said Pierre, " but never one that 
 was not exposed." 
 
 "Do not, at any rate, hasten the inevitable," replied 
 Jean. " A good knight bides his time, and does 
 nothing with a rashness that offers advantage to the 
 enemy." 
 
 " Your voice is like that of the tempter in my 
 ears," cried Pierre impatiently. " Take yourself off, 
 and leave me in peace."
 
 112 THE SHIELD OF THE FL,EUK-DE-LIS. 
 
 " Not until you promise me to be prudent," an 
 swered his brother. "Acknowledge the false Jeanne 
 as your sister, and await the result." 
 
 Pierre muttered an oath, pulled his hat over his 
 eyes, buried his head upon his arms, and remained 
 silent. 
 
 " Peace to your dreams," said Jean. " I will go 
 bid Father Ambrose pray that you may be led into 
 a more reasonable state of mind."
 
 RECOGNITION. 113 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 RECOGNITION. 
 
 RLEANS was in a tumult of rejoicing; 
 and, jealous that Metz should first 
 enjoy the honor of Jeanne's presence, 
 sent poursuivants in hot haste to urge 
 her immediate return to the city 
 which cherished the most intense devotion to her 
 memory, and where the news of her reappearance 
 had awakened boundless enthusiasm. In the churches 
 throngs of worshippers gave thanks for the marvellous 
 deliverance wrought by the hand of God. Work was 
 suspended throughout the city; and the doors of the 
 chamber where the council held protracted meetings 
 were besieged by eager crowds seeking information, 
 which none could give, as to the particulars of the 
 wonderful event. 
 
 In other cities of France triumphal processions and 
 services of rejoicing were held. The soldiers in camp 
 and field once more felt themselves invulnerable, as 
 if led by the sheltering pillar of fire, which on the 
 side of their enemies became a cloud of darkness.
 
 114 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 The English felt the sudden presage of defeat which 
 had so often seized them with panic fear when they 
 had beheld in the distance the gleaming banner of 
 the Maid. 
 
 La Tremoille, in his exile, learned of Jeanne's resur 
 rection, and felt that he had not yet known the keenest 
 irony of fate. 
 
 Jean de Ligny heard the news ; and in the depths of 
 his recreant soul he hoped it might be true, and that 
 the stain upon his name might henceforth be forgotten. 
 
 Richemont and Dunois and other honest hearts re 
 joiced. 
 
 La Hire, the Ecorcheur, soldier and marauder, swore 
 one of his furious oaths to prove his satisfaction. 
 
 What Charles, the king, thought and felt when the 
 tidings reached his ears, none knew unless it were the 
 Marshal de Retz who carried the news to Loches. 
 The king was busily engaged in designing a new 
 parterre for his castle. He talked much of landscape 
 gardening. Duke Rene* had lately sent him a dozen 
 new varieties of roses. 
 
 Queen Yolande received the report with pleasure, 
 though she wondered what would be the result of a 
 new element introduced at this time into the maze of 
 court policy. Agnes Sorel protested with lively grati 
 fication that the miracle had been wrought for her 
 especial benefit, since it had always seemed to her
 
 RECOGNITION. 115 
 
 that she had lost the three best years of her life by 
 coming to court too late to meet the heroine of France. 
 She sent Jeanne a medal which had hung upon her 
 own white neck; and the dowager of Sicily sent a 
 golden chain. Queen Marie, like her husband, com 
 mitted herself to nothing ; but, as usual, no one thought 
 to ask her opinion. 
 
 De Retz was content that the king had given him 
 a full-blown rose as a token of favor. Charles D'Anjou, 
 in evidence of a happy turn in his fortunes, showed the 
 marshal an accusatory letter from the Bishop of Nantes 
 in regard to the crimes of the Sire de Retz, including 
 the mention of a forced entry of one of his churches. 
 
 De Retz made answer by tearing the letter to frag 
 ments ; and the prince laughingly protested that it was 
 the easiest way to answer it. 
 
 Thus the marshal, by a daring which surpassed 
 another's dreams, justified himself by that most potent 
 argument, success, and fortified himself against his 
 enemies. 
 
 In Metz, all went well for him. The free city, which 
 owed nothing to king or emperor, showed itself a 
 generous host, and lavished honors upon the guest 
 whose presence was a distinction. Splendid banquets 
 were given to Jeanne du Lis ; shows and pageants, 
 mock combats and mysteries, were arranged as if for 
 the entertainment of a royal visitor. The Duchess of
 
 116 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 Luxembourg, anxious to remove the stigma from that 
 name, sent a pressing invitation to the Maid of Orleans 
 to visit her in her castle of Arlon. Nobles and 'princes 
 vied with each other for the honor of her acquaintance. 
 Gifts were lavished upon her ; and a frenzy of popular 
 enthusiasm greeted the Maid wherever she showed 
 herself. 
 
 One bright May morning a pushing, hurrying throng 
 horsemen, armed soldiers, dusty pedestrians, dashing 
 knights, ladies in litters or on pillions, barefooted friars, 
 children, prelates of the church on ambling palfries, 
 street beggars, mountebanks, the whole population, it 
 would seem, of the city of Metz discharged itself in 
 a constant stream from the eastern gate of the city; 
 and passing under the guns of the frowning fortress 
 which protected the district on this side, took their 
 way along the highroad in the direction of the village 
 of Marville. 
 
 A contagious enthusiasm was in the air. Under its 
 impulse the heterogeneous multitude moved as one 
 body. 
 
 " Jeanne du Lis is to meet her brothers to-day at 
 Marville." This was the rumor that set the crowd in 
 motion. It was not only an occasion to satisfy the 
 curious, but many worthy people had appealed to it as a 
 crucial test of the truth or falsity of the claims of the 
 Maid.
 
 RECOGNITION. 117 
 
 Those who came first into the village were able 
 to secure the most desirable positions about the open 
 square or on the housetops, steps, and porticoes that 
 overlooked it. Daring boys bestrode the branches of 
 the trees that lined the road. The provost of Mar- 
 ville, swelling with dignity, rode up and down on a 
 white palfrey housed with an azure cloth worked 
 with three fleurs-de-lis. The stone steps of his house, 
 which fronted on the square, were spread with an 
 Indian carpet, and a group of honored guests were 
 seated here, the lords of Thichiemont and Villette, 
 and some ladies and gentlemen of their company. 
 
 On the opposite side of the green, the house of 
 Jean Gugnot made an even more imposing appear 
 ance. Every door and window was hung with ban 
 ners, pennons, cloth-of-gold, and embroideries, bearing 
 witness to the enviable distinction which had befallen 
 it in being chosen for the dwelling-place of the Maid. 
 The rich silversmith owed this honor to a former 
 acquaintance with the Marshal de Retz, and an 
 unscrupulous zeal in his service which counter-bal 
 anced the odium connected with his name as a 
 money-lender and usurer. 
 
 His fellow-townsmen grumbled, and took unfriendly 
 note of the lavish expenditures incurred on this occa 
 sion, remembering how his coffers had been filled. 
 They counted the sheep, calves, and oxen that had
 
 118 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 been slaughtered for the feast to which all comers 
 were invited; the capons, herons, geese, and ducks, 
 vats of butter and cheese, and casks of wine and 
 mead, which promised to reimburse the victim of 
 past extortion to the extent of his appetite if he 
 were willing to lay aside the grudge of years and 
 sit at Jean Gugnot's table. 
 
 " His house is chosen, no doubt, because it is large 
 and commodious. He has, besides, a very pretty 
 daughter," said Jean de Thoneletil, Lord of Villette, 
 in reply to a severe remark from the provost's wife, 
 who could not bear to look at the decorated fagade 
 of the house over the way. 
 
 " I have three daughters," she replied, straightening 
 her portly form, and glancing into the background, 
 where three heads of tightly plaited reddish hair, 
 surmounted by tall white head-dresses, might be seen 
 eagerly extended from the buttery windows. 
 
 " As if the pretty daughter were of the least 
 concern in this case," said the beautiful young Lady 
 de Villette with a frown. Her husband did not 
 observe the remark; but Des Armoises, who was her 
 neighbor, felt called upon to answer it. 
 
 " Beauty always makes itself felt," he said. 
 
 "In proof of which my husband has not taken 
 his eyes from the charming young bourgeoise of 
 Metz, who came in your company," she answered 
 discontentedly. " Tell me who she is."
 
 RECOGNITION. 119 
 
 " Eudeline de Novelonpont," replied Robert. " Her 
 brother is my friend, the tall man yonder." 
 
 " Who stands like a hound straining at a leash," 
 said the lady. " His sister's hand on his arm is all 
 that keeps him from imitating the crowds who press 
 to the edge of the pavement, thinking to see better 
 if under the very hoofs of the horses. She is pretty, 
 too, but not remarkably so. Her mouth is too wide, 
 and her lips a trifle too full. But perhaps, my Lord of 
 Thichiemont, your heart and eyes are engaged there." 
 
 "No," answered Robert. "Beauty delights my 
 eyes wherever they meet it; but my heart is a dull, 
 stony thing, that never beats the faster for the 
 touch of a woman's hand." 
 
 "Delightful insensibility," said she. "I wish Jean 
 could imitate it. But it does not seem to me that 
 you are of so calm a nature as you would have me 
 believe. You have been this half hour as restless as 
 a hawk, starting at every sound. Is it the Maid 
 of Orleans to whom you have vowed your fancy ? " 
 
 "Aspiration there would be as hopeless as longing 
 for a star," answered Robert evasively. 
 
 " Yes ; I hear that . Count Ulric of Wiirtemberg, 
 who came on a mission to her, straightway forgot 
 it, and declared himself her suitor; and that he 
 follows her everywhere she goes, like a captive led 
 in chains. But now, how cross you look ! Neither
 
 120 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 you nor Jean has given me a smile to-day. Unless 
 I can make myself a round-faced bourgeoise, with a 
 velvet cap and silk-lined kirtle, or wear armor and 
 ride astride like a man, I can please neither of 
 you." 
 
 Robert was spared the necessity of a reply, for at 
 this moment a distant shout caused every one to start 
 into eager attention. The crowd pushed and elbowed 
 for a better position, until the provost's guard, bear 
 ing down upon them, cleared the way in advance of 
 a company of mounted soldiers, who clattered into 
 the village. They were men long of limb and broad 
 of chest, with fierce, scarred faces, and hands that 
 could deal deadly blows with mace or battle-axe ; a 
 picked band of troopers led by a lieutenant of the 
 Marshal de Retz. They bore his pennon and the red 
 flag of France. 
 
 Behind them came a figure clad in shining armor, 
 and riding a stately horse whose golden housings swept 
 the ground. It was a woman ; for her head was bare, 
 and her soft chestnut hair brushed back from the face 
 fell in ringlets upon the gleaming cuirass. A squire, 
 who rode close behind, bore a white banner with golden 
 fringe, upon whose surface was displayed the figure 
 of God in glory and two saints each with a fleur-de- 
 lis, and in golden letters the inscription, Jhesu Maria. 
 At this sight, which was a resurrection from the past,
 
 RECOGNITION. 121 
 
 a mighty shout burst from the throng : " Noel, Noel ! 
 Long live Jeanne Dare ! " The people, frantic with 
 joy, flung their hats into the air. They gave thanks 
 to God. They wept and prayed, and prostrated them 
 selves that they might kiss the fringes of her saddle 
 cloth. Mothers crowded about her, holding young 
 children in their arms to beseech her blessing for 
 them; the sick and the infirm dragged themselves 
 into the path that they might beg healing at her 
 touch. 
 
 The soldiers, at the command of their leader, halted 
 in a motionless column at the farther end of the 
 square, while the bright vision, upon whom all eyes 
 were fixed, rode slowly around the green, her prog 
 ress everywhere impeded by the crowd, whose frantic 
 demonstrations could not be restrained. 
 
 "She is coming," said Eudeline, trembling with ex 
 citement, as she clung to her brother's arm. " Soon 
 she will be near enough to touch us if she should put 
 forth her hand. Now you can assure yourself, brother, 
 with your own eyes whether she is indeed Jeanne 
 Dare." 
 
 Jean de Metz made no reply. His whole being was 
 concentrated into the single faculty of sight. The 
 scene was so like a vision from another world that he 
 could not be sure that he were not in some strange 
 state of trance. Surely his doubt had been the weak-
 
 122 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 ness of a timorous spirit, unable to believe that which 
 it most desired. Should he obey the impulse that 
 urged him to shout "Noel" with the rest, and to 
 prostrate himself at her feet? 
 
 Jeanne rode on until she came before the provost's 
 house. Here her attention was attracted by the group 
 in the doorway, made noticeable by the glowing colors 
 of the Indian rug, the satin and velvet of the pro 
 vost's wife, and the fur-trimmed, jewel-bespangled gar 
 ments of the Lady of Villette and her sister. 
 
 The noble war-horse, descendant of a long line of 
 thoroughbreds, picked his way through the crowd un- 
 guided by spur or rein ; stopping with arched neck 
 and pawing hoof, if the throng pressed too closely, 
 and resuming his course with high-bred dignity when 
 it opened before him. 
 
 For a few moments the Maid sat thus motionless 
 regarding the provost's guests, unmindful of de Metz 
 and his sister who stood below and close beside her 
 among the crowd. Suddenly her glance brightened 
 into recognition. A quick blush colored her cheek. 
 She shook the reins ; and her horse, obeying the mo 
 tion, sprang forward regardless of obstacles. 
 
 " It is you, Des Armoises, who were honored by her 
 smile," said Villette, leaning forward, and placing a 
 heavy hand upon his friend's shoulder. 
 
 " I had the joy of sitting beside her at a banquet
 
 RECOGNITION. 123 
 
 which the captain of the city gave her in Metz," an 
 swered Robert. "It cannot be that she remembers 
 me!" 
 
 "Oh, you are not one that is easily forgotten," said 
 the Lady of Villette. " Your mirror, if you look into 
 it, will tell you that." 
 
 "A barefaced compliment," said Villette. "Marie 
 does not praise my face." 
 
 "It is too seldom turned towards me for that," re 
 torted his wife. 
 
 Eudeline, watching her brother, saw his look change 
 quickly. 
 
 " What is it, Jean ? " she asked, conscious of a 
 sudden pang, and wondering if his thought were 
 hers. 
 
 " She is an impostor," he said. " It is all witch 
 craft and delusion. Let us go to church, Eudeline, 
 and pray that God may restore our senses." 
 
 Des Armoises left his seat, and joined the brother 
 and sister in response to a piteous look from Eudeline. 
 Her eyes were made for soft appeals to the chivalry 
 of man. 
 
 "She did not see you, Jean," said Robert. "I felt 
 for your disappointment. What glory it would be 
 to clasp her hand with the world looking on in envy. 
 That will come later; at the banquet to-day, perhaps. 
 I will see that you have a place at the provost's 
 table."
 
 124 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 Jean turned his head aside. 
 
 " It was a bitter disappointment," he said; "but not 
 as you imagine. For a moment my heart gave a leap, 
 and I cried, ' Thank God ! ' The next I humbly be 
 sought God's mercy upon us, for we all are ensnared in 
 a trap of the evil one. This woman is an impostor." 
 
 Robert seized his friend by the arm. " Do not dare 
 to -speak that word aloud," he said. "Keep your 
 insane suspicions to yourself. As well might that 
 blind man yonder deny the sunshine, and declare that 
 we who behold it are deceived. Much brooding over 
 this matter has made you mad." 
 
 " I feared he would be ill," said Eudeline, " for the 
 week he has been home with me in Metz he has 
 hardly eaten or slept." 
 
 "My health is good, and my judgment sound," said 
 De Metz. " I see only too clearly that this is a device 
 of the Marshal de Retz, who has used the power of 
 enchantment he has long been credited with possess 
 ing to make another woman take for us who have 
 known her the form and features of Jeanne Dare." 
 
 Des Armoises regarded his friend with compassion. 
 
 "Surely you are beside yourself," he said; "but let 
 us hasten, and we shall witness the meeting of the 
 Maid and her brothers. That may well be the test 
 of her truth." 
 
 As he spoke, he pushed his way across the green
 
 RECOGNITION. 125 
 
 to the open space before Jean Gugnot's door, where 
 the leisurely progress of the Maid had brought her. 
 At her approach, two young men, who had been wait 
 ing beneath the pavilion of cloth-of-gold in front 
 of the house, advanced to met her as she descended 
 from her horse. Robert was near enough to observe 
 the radiant delight that shone upon her face. 
 
 " Jean ! Pierre ! " she cried, embracing them with 
 tears, while they kissed her in return with expres 
 sions of affection. 
 
 "Are you convinced, doubting Thomas?" asked 
 Des Armoises, turning in triumph to his friend. 
 
 " They have conspired together in a dishonorable 
 scheme to foist a pretender upon the world," said 
 De Metz. " I can no longer endure to witness its 
 success. I will return to my home, and take counsel 
 what it is best to do." 
 
 " You will not stay to the banquet ? " 
 
 " Food would choke me." 
 
 u And your sour looks would spoil the feast. Go, 
 since you must; but leave your sister in charge of 
 the Lady of Villette. I will answer that she shows 
 her every attention." 
 
 " Eudeline will not stay without me," replied Novel- 
 onpont. 
 
 " It is a pity she should miss the banquet and the 
 dance," said Robert,
 
 126 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 "She is no happier than I," said Jean. "I notice 
 that she can scarce keep back her tears." 
 
 " Some one may have wounded her thoughtlessly," 
 said Robert with quick concern. 
 
 "She is, like me, amazed and confounded by the 
 success of this imposture." 
 
 " Fie upon you, for an obstinate unbeliever ! " cried 
 Des Armoises. "No heretic was ever burnt for a 
 more persistent delusion." 
 
 " It is you who are deluded," retorted De Metz. 
 " The look of love the enchantress gave you has turned 
 your head. It was that which opened my eyes ; and 
 at that moment I saw her as she is, a lying impostor, 
 decked out to ape the looks and manners of an angel 
 of light." 
 
 " Heaven mend your wits ! " exclaimed Robert. " It 
 is useless to reason with you. A look of love do 
 you say ? Would it were possible ! " And following 
 his friend, he rejoined Eudeline, protesting against her 
 early departure, and declaring that he had hoped to 
 dance with her that night. 
 
 Eudeline hesitated how to answer, and looked regret 
 fully towards her brother, who was making hurried 
 preparations for the return. 
 
 " Do not listen to him," said Jean over his shoulder. 
 "He speaks from the heart; but he can no more 
 ans\ver for his actions than the sailor who hears the
 
 RECOGNITION. 127 
 
 siren's song. If that bright-eyed witch should smile 
 at him again he would leave all else and follow 
 her." 
 
 " Once you are home, Eudeline, call the surgeon 
 and see that he bleeds your brother, and gives him 
 a soothing draught," whispered Robert. "He talks 
 like one distraught." 
 
 Eudeline made no reply, and only gave a down 
 cast glance in answer to Des Armoises's farewells ; 
 when, having assisted her to mount behind her brother 
 on the tall gray horse which was accustomed to the 
 double burden, he kissed her slim fingers, waved a 
 smiling farewell, and stood to watch them out of 
 sight. The two dejected travellers, with their faces 
 set towards Metz, went slowly towards the setting sun, 
 which flung long shadows across the path, and sent 
 a sheaf of arrow-like rays darting skyward from the 
 bosom of a silver-lined cloud. 
 
 " It will be dark before we reach the city," said 
 Eudeline. 
 
 "No matter. There is a moon, and the stars are 
 bright. Do you sit at ease, sister?" 
 
 " Very comfortably," she answered with a sigh. 
 " It is a tedious road." 
 
 " But when we are at home, you will be glad. It 
 is pleasanter than a lodging among strangers." 
 
 "Yes," said Eudeline, wiping her eyes. "They
 
 128 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 say the plates for the banquet were to be of solid 
 gold." 
 
 "No better than pewter for taste," answered Jean. 
 
 " They were to have twenty horns to make music," 
 she remarked. 
 
 " And all blowing in a different key, no doubt," 
 he answered. " Seeing how freely the wine ran, I 
 doubt if one of the servants or musicians has a steady 
 head by night." 
 
 " If the Sire Des Armoises had danced with me, I 
 should not have noticed the music," she said. 
 
 " It would have been precisely as I warned you," 
 answered her brother. " Did he have eyes for you 
 to-day when we watched the procession? You might 
 have been in Metz for all thought he gave you then." 
 
 " He came directly I looked at him," said Eude- 
 line with trembling lips. 
 
 " He is kind and friendly," said Jean ; " but do 
 not set your heart upon him, sister." 
 
 " How can you think of such a thing ? " cried 
 Eudeline with energy. " He is less than nothing to 
 me." 
 
 " So much the better," rejoined her brother in a 
 tone of relief. " Sit steady now, and we will gallop 
 along this piece of level road. See, there is the 
 tower of the cathedral, and the spire of St. Seglenne. 
 It will not be long before we are at home."
 
 RECOGNITION. 129 
 
 Eudeline, looking back, saw the glare of the bon 
 fires that illuminated the village, redly reflected on 
 the cloud of fog which hung above the swamps of 
 the valley. On the other side, the evening star 
 throbbed in the golden west. Its radiance, too, was 
 dim and wavering, veiled by tears.
 
 130 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 BLUEBEAKD'S CASTLE. 
 
 [HE dance was ended, the crowds dis 
 persed, and darkness and silence fell 
 over Marville. The bonfires burned 
 themselves out, and the stars sank in 
 the eternal order of their progress one 
 by one behind the hill. Slumber put its seal on many 
 records of shame, and released the weary conscience 
 from its Ixion's wheel. The oblivion which all wel 
 come nightly, though holding it the menace of joy at 
 the end of life's day, fell impartially upon the just 
 and the unjust. 
 
 In the high window of the silversmith's guest-cham 
 ber a light was burning at midnight. The sentinel 
 who kept watch in the square below felt its compan 
 ionship, and turned his eyes towards it as often as he 
 came within range of its feeble beam ; the light sug 
 gesting waking human thought and neighborhood. 
 
 Four people sat together in the centre of this illumi 
 nation, which was made by three tall candles in the 
 sockets of a branching silver candlestick, placed on a
 
 BLUEBEARD'S CASTLE. 131 
 
 carved oaken table, near which chairs had been closely 
 drawn. The room was full of ponderous furniture, 
 and hung with faded arras which was black in the 
 shadow and only showed here and there traces of color, 
 and figures whose inventor's purpose must remain 
 unguessed. The curtained bed was a vast cavern of 
 shade, relieved only by the glimmer of the gilded 
 fringe of the counterpane. High-backed settles with 
 upright cushions of a forbidding hardness occupied 
 either side of the fireplace. Heavy oak chairs were 
 set squarely against the walls, as if it was never meant 
 that they should be displaced. The only sign of dis 
 order in the room consequent upon its occupancy was 
 that upon one of the settles a trailing ermine-lined 
 robe was carelessly flung, supplemented by a pair of 
 shining red leather shoes with extremely long and 
 pointed upward-curving toes. On the other side, a 
 heap of armor lay upon the floor. 
 
 The four who sat about the table were absorbed in 
 conversation of a sort that has a double meaning for 
 the ear and the heart, the emotion behind it being of a 
 kind not translatable in words. The only medium for 
 the communication of the intensest feeling is the lan 
 guage of the infant or the brute ; cries, gestures, and 
 muscular contortions which the orderly conventionali 
 ties of life forbid. Pierre du Lis, with rage in his heart, 
 hid a tiger's impulse beneath a cloak of gentlemanlike 
 indifference.
 
 132 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 Father Ambrose had long since learned to sink the 
 man in the priest ; and the gentle authority of his man 
 ner gave no hint of the lava flow of tumultuous feel- 
 
 O 
 
 ings that surged beneath the surface. Jean du Lis 
 showed a diplomatic reserve in the presence of forces 
 suspectedly hostile to his own designs, and maintained 
 an attitude of serene impartiality. 
 
 The pretender, unmasked before those who knew 
 her, was neither abject nor defiant in her challenge to 
 their judgment. She had thrown aside her outer robe ; 
 and the tight-fitting undergown of blue silk, wrought 
 with golden fleurs-de-lis, defined her queenly figure, 
 leaving neck and arms bare. A golden circlet rested 
 on her floating chestnut locks, that curled at the ends 
 in heavy ringlets upon her shoulders. Her feet were 
 thrust into jewelled slippers. In this rich attire she 
 had all the dignity of a sovereign awaiting unjust 
 impeachment. 
 
 " Is that wrong which one does of necessity ? " she 
 asked, in answer to a sneering innuendo from Pierre. 
 
 "No," replied Ambrose in his soft measured utter 
 ance ; " necessity is a power against which we struggle 
 like a fly in a cobweb to our greater entanglement. 
 What is man, the creature of a day, that he should 
 make himself superior to nature of which he is a part? 
 Free will is a dream of the schoolmen. Yet as Chris 
 tians we strive for an unattainable perfection ; and the
 
 BLUEBEARD'S CASTLE. 133 
 
 heart will never be free from the consciousness of guilt 
 until freed from the burden of the flesh. All who have 
 tried it know the salutary power of penance to refresh 
 the spiritual part of man which languishes in its gross 
 material prison. Why should you, Pierre, blame a fault 
 which you have shared by raising no voice against it ? " 
 
 The pretender started. " The marshal trusts you. 
 You could not think of that," she said. 
 
 "No," answered Pierre; "not without giving you an 
 alternative, and coming first of all to a deliberate 
 understanding. Let us hear your story. Ambrose 
 has told us all that happened before you left Nancy, 
 and the marshal's letters which have been read to us 
 describe the manner in which he perfected his scheme. 
 It remains to be explained how the force of necessity 
 was applied so as to leave you no choice of refusal; 
 for in spite of what the holy Ambrose says, I feel 
 myself a free man, and able to refuse or accept, com 
 pelled by no one." 
 
 " If you feared for your life ? " she asked. 
 
 " I risk it daily," he replied. 
 
 " But as a soldier, in the heat of battle," she said. 
 " That is not as if you were threatened with murder 
 by a slow and torturing process, the fear of which 
 turns your blood chill." 
 
 "Give me proof of this," said Jean; "and the mar 
 shal shall hang as a felon."
 
 134 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUE-DE-LIS. 
 
 " There is no proof but my word," she replied, 
 "and that would not avail. The greatest men in 
 the kingdom have sought in vain for judgment against 
 him. He is a relative of the De Montforts, a terri 
 ble name. In his castles he is like a king command 
 ing an army." 
 
 " Tell us your story, sister," urged Jean. 
 
 "I will begin, then, from the day I reached Suze," 
 she said. " I was to serve the lady, his wife ; but I 
 found her absent, and learned that she had gone to 
 visit kinsfolk near Orleans with little prospect of 
 return, as she had quarrelled with her husband. This 
 gave me great uneasiness ; but until the marshal should 
 come I had no one to reproach for the deception, and 
 no choice but to remain. By his orders I was treated 
 with distinction, given a suite of apartments, allowed 
 a couple of waiting-women, a man-servant to attend 
 me when I rode out, and a minstrel to sing to me 
 when I chose. It is to David, the minstrel, that I 
 owe every cheerful hour in that miserable time. The 
 women were surly and hostile ; and the man-servant, 
 a spy set to watch my motions, and return me safe 
 to the castle after every excursion. David alone was 
 my friend. The others called him a madman, and 
 told me he had times of frenzy when he would de 
 clare that he was a great nobleman, who had been 
 murdered and brought back from the dead ; but this
 
 BLUEBEARD'S CASTLE. 135 
 
 I never believed, for well as I knew him he never 
 showed any signs of a diseased mind, but was always 
 the same cheerful companion, ready to amuse my 
 dullness, and relieve my anxieties. 
 
 " He taught me many things besides his songs. 
 He knew history and politics, and the manners of 
 the world, and all that was going on outside the 
 dull walls of Suze. I wondered how he learned it; 
 for we saw nothing all day long from the windows 
 but dreary stretches of level land fading into the 
 sky at the horizon; and the only moving objects 
 within view were the peasants who stalked over the 
 marshy fields on long stilts that made them look in 
 the distance like gigantic storks. 
 
 " When David was called away from Suze I was 
 desolate indeed, and was made more so by the news 
 of the marshal's expected return. I had learned to 
 fear him and dread his coming, even though it should 
 put an end to my tedious imprisonment. When he 
 came, I was ashamed of my fears ; for he treated me 
 with distant politeness, promised that his wife would 
 soon return, and gave me instead of David an Italian 
 priest for instructor. He taught me in reading for 
 an hour a day ; set me the task of embroidering an 
 altar-cloth, and for the rest, left me entirely alone. 
 I was not even expected to attend the chapel ser 
 vice ; though upon the marshal's return it was daily
 
 136 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 celebrated in a splendid manner with candles and 
 incense and the music of a choir of boys whom he 
 brought with him. 
 
 " Frangois, the priest, told me that these boys were 
 the children of wealthy parents, who were glad to 
 entrust them to the care and instruction of the Mar 
 shal de Retz, who was noted as the most devout and 
 religious nobleman of his time. He was so fond of 
 church music that he made it his business to encour 
 age it, as he did all arts and learning, for he was as 
 well-educated as he was religious. He had given 
 money to found several convents; and he was at vast 
 expense to secure the services of a teacher of music 
 who had lately been in the employment of the Duke 
 of Burgundy, and was now at Suze engaged in train 
 ing the marshal's choir of fifty boys. 
 
 "From my rooms in a wing of the castle I could 
 see the windows of the chapel; and in the evening I 
 loved to watch them when they were illuminated by 
 the light within, and shone in beautiful many-colored 
 patterns. Often I could hear the distant strains of 
 the music ; and it was so wondrously sweet that it 
 never failed to bring tears to my eyes. 
 
 " One cloudy autumn evening, the chapel windows 
 shone so enticingly through the mist, that they tempted 
 me to break the monotony of a dull day by attending 
 the service, as I had longed but never dared to do,
 
 BLUEBEAKD'S CASTLE. 137 
 
 since Frai^ois had sharply forbidden it. The inner 
 door towards the main part of the castle was always 
 kept locked as if to discourage my going beyond 
 bounds in that direction ; but on this day, as it 
 chanced, the key was in the lock. 
 
 " The corridor beyond led between long suites of 
 rooms, with many turnings and steps up and down ; 
 but the music guided me, and brought me at last to 
 the foot of a carved stone staircase where a curtain 
 hung in an arched doorway. I peeped between the 
 folds of the curtain, and stopped, dazzled by the light 
 of candles on an altar close before me. The vaulted 
 roof of the chapel was over my head, for I was in 
 a recess just behind the choir at the entrance used 
 by the boys in the processionals. They stood near 
 me in ranks like white-robed seraphs, singing as they 
 must in paradise. Frai^ois, the priest, presided at 
 the altar, and acolytes swung censers ; but the only 
 worshipper was the Marshal de Retz, who knelt in 
 front of the chancel. 
 
 " I was afraid to meet his look, and drew back be 
 hind the curtain ; and then for the first time I no 
 ticed a little choir boy in his robes of satin and lace, 
 crouching in a corner of the curtained alcove, and 
 watching me with frightened eyes that showed traces 
 of tears. 
 
 " ' What ails you ? ' I asked. ' Why are you not 
 in your place ? '
 
 138 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 '"I am so frightened,' he answered. 
 
 " ' What do you fear, poor child ? ' I asked. 
 
 '"The marshal,' lie replied with a sob. ' Every day 
 one of those who sing here goes away. I fear it 
 may be my turn.' 
 
 " ' Goes where ? ' I asked. 
 
 '"No one comes back to tell,' he whispered. 'The 
 marshal murders them I know. Go away, if you can.' 
 
 "A terror seized me in spite of myself. 'Come, let 
 us go together,' I said, holding out my hand. 
 
 "I dare not. I shall be missed,' he answered. 'I 
 must go back and sing those devilish hymns.' 
 
 " ' What do you mean ? ' I asked. ' They are so sweet.' 
 
 " ' But listen,' said the child. ' They are singing 
 the office for All Saints' Day ; but where we should 
 say the holy names we are forced to use those of 
 devils, Barren, Orient, Belzebuth, Satan, and Belial. 
 Listen, and you will hear them.' 
 
 " I had not noticed the words to which the sweet 
 sounds were put ; now I listened, and heard what I 
 could not have believed possible, an impious parody 
 of the holy office. It seemed a sin to be there ; and 
 I turned and rushed from the place, not daring to look 
 behind. 
 
 " At the top of the staircase, bewildered by fear, I 
 took the wrong turning, and entered a part of the 
 castle that was new to me. These were the rooms
 
 BLUEBEA11D S CASTLE. 
 
 in the donjon tower. They were all low and dark, 
 with rough stone walls, and heavy groined ceilings. 
 Candles burned here and there in iron sconces ; and 
 from the farthest room a bright light shone, illumi 
 nating the rest. Curiosity led me to this room, which 
 was so singularly furnished that I felt a chill of fear. 
 The walls were hung with crimson arras wrought 
 with strange characters in black. A great table 
 stood in the centre of the room, lighted by a red 
 lamp that swung overhead. On this table were 
 numerous sheets of manuscript, written in red ink. 
 As I leaned above them to examine the curious let 
 tering which was unlike any I had seen, my sleeve 
 that rested on the table showed a red stain. A pool 
 of the ink was on the black table-cover. I started, 
 for it looked like blood. At the same time, I heard 
 a noise in the room below so unearthly that I was 
 forced against my will to steal down the short flight 
 of stairs that led between to see what could be there. 
 "What I saw, brothers, I can never tell. The 
 thought of it brings back too plainly that hideous 
 moment. I turned and ran like a frightened deer; 
 and, led by some providence, I reached my room, 
 where I fell upon the floor in a swoon. 1 
 
 1 The story of the infamous Gilles de Laval, robbed of its worst 
 features, still terrifies the imagination of childhood in the guise of 
 the nursery legend of Bluebeard.
 
 140 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 "For weeks I lay in a fever, unconscious and 
 delirious ; and David, who watched beside me, feared 
 that my reason would never return. It was his 
 presence, and the sight of his kind face that restored me. 
 
 " The rest I can soon tell. My blood-stained sleeve 
 betrayed to the marshal my knowledge of his crimes. 
 He threw off his reserve, and told me plainly of his 
 plans for me ; promising me wealth, happiness, and 
 distinction if I would agree to represent my sister 
 to the world, and a fearful end if I refused. I had 
 no choice but to obey." 
 
 She sighed, and leaned back wearily in her chair, 
 as if shrinking from the expression of the thoughts 
 that were plainly to be read upon the faces of her 
 listeners, wrath and curiosity and horrified incre 
 dulity. Pierre began a series of eager questions, with 
 all the manner of an inquisitor zealous for judgment. 
 Jean drew his sword, and vowed by the cross upon 
 it to bring the marshal to justice if the tale were 
 true. Ambrose fell upon his knees, and prayed in- 
 audibly, with a white, stricken face. 
 
 "I have told you all I shall ever reveal, Pierre," 
 said his sister ; " urge me no further. But I can 
 tell you of a happier time that followed when I left 
 the Castle of Suze, each stone of which seemed 
 cemented with blood, and went to live at a convent 
 in Nantes. The abbess. was a kinswoman of the Mar-
 
 BLUEBEARD'S CASTLE. 141 
 
 shal de Retz ; and she would listen to no hint against 
 him, holding his honor dear to her as part of the 
 inheritance of the race from which she had sprung. 
 Her own virtues were known throughout all Brittainy ; 
 and she was everywhere loved and venerated. She 
 herself undertook the superintendence of my time in 
 the convent, and gave me a share in her intimacy 
 that fell to no one else ; and soon her slightest wish 
 became my law. I could have knelt and kissed the 
 pavement where she walked, so grea't was my admi 
 ration for her ; yet she dwelt removed in a cold 
 serenity that never allowed a near approach or an 
 expression of affection. 
 
 "The marshal had told her of his scheme; and she 
 accepted it and glorified it by the loftiness of her 
 mind, determining that the deception should serve 
 a religious purpose, and in this way reconciling it to 
 her conscience. She talked to me constantly concern 
 ing my mission, and gave me the highest motives for 
 it ; assuring me that the spirit of my sainted sister 
 would inspire me to finish the work which she had 
 left undone. When she found me loath to assume 
 the name of another, judging it in spite of her argu 
 ments to be a lie, she contrived a solemn service of 
 dedication that should reconcile my scruples, and at 
 the same time prepare me for my work. 
 
 "It took place in the chapel at midnight, when she
 
 142 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 and I were alone there together. I knelt at the 
 chancel steps ; and the abbess, laying her hands upon 
 my head, made a prayer to St. Michael, St. Catherine, 
 and St. Margaret to visit me and bless me. She 
 sprinkled my forehead with holy water, and gave me 
 the name of the Pucelle to be mine henceforth. In 
 the convent I had been known as Claude. 1 She 
 blessed me, and counselled me to go forth on my 
 mission cheered by the presence of the saints and 
 the favor of God. 
 
 " From that hour my conscience was at rest. When 
 the marshal's command sent me forth among strangers, 
 in the escort of rude soldiers, I thought of Jeanne, 
 prayed to the saints, and took courage. When I met 
 you, my brothers, arid you received me kindly, it 
 seemed that my prayers were answered. It was fear 
 of your denial that had made me tremble." 
 
 " I would gladly leave you with your flattering 
 hope, " said Pierre. " I pity you, Catherine, and no 
 longer hate you, as I did an hour ago, for your sin 
 against Jeanne. But a soldier's religion admits of 
 no such compromise with truth as your holy abbess 
 found it easy to make. I have no mind to aid you 
 further than to spare you open shame before the mul 
 titude to-day. You shall go quietly away before I 
 declare the imposture to the world." 
 
 1 By this name the pretender may be known to the reader.
 
 BLUEBEARD'S CASTLE. 143 
 
 The pretender trembled, and speechless with anx 
 iety, clasped her hands upon her heart. 
 
 Jean protested in her stead; and an angry argu 
 ment took place between the brothers, during which 
 Ambrose arose from his knees, and stole from the 
 room. 
 
 " There is only one alternative," said Pierre at last. 
 "I imperil my honor by admitting it; but the credit 
 of our family, for which Jean pleads, may be served 
 by it. So this I yield to you and to him. If you, 
 Catherine, will marry the German count, who sues, 
 they say, for your hand, and withdraw yourself at 
 once to Wiirtemberg, obliterating as much as may be 
 all traces of your past, and forever refusing public 
 notice, I will make no open scandal; I will keep your 
 secret. Forgive me, Jeanne, for this. " 
 
 He hung his head, and stood with downcast eyes 
 awaiting a reply. 
 
 "Agree, Catherine," whispered Jean. "I know Pierre 
 when he sets his teeth thus, like a bulldog. Torture 
 and flame would not move him. Promise all he asks. 
 It is your only safety the only escape of all of us 
 from shame." 
 
 "Must I marry where I cannot love?" she asked 
 with quivering lips. 
 
 " Fool ! " cried Pierre, stamping his foot, with an 
 oath. " Do you prate of love when hell's chasms
 
 144 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUK-DE-LIS. 
 
 yawn before you ? Have you neither eyes nor under 
 standing? I came into this room ready to strangle you 
 with my own hands. Decide at once. Time presses. 1 ' 
 
 " She will agree," said Jean. " I answer for her." 
 
 " I must have her oath," said Pierre. " Swear to 
 me, Catherine, that you will do this." 
 
 " I swear," she answered feebly, at the next moment 
 bursting into tears. 
 
 " Come away, Pierre, you brute ! " cried Jean. "She 
 is worn to death with all this talk. To bed, sister, 
 and sleep well. There are worse fates than to be a 
 Rhenish countess, lady of a rich domain, and safe 
 from the tyranny of the cursed marshal." 
 
 Claude ran to him, and clung about his neck. 
 
 "Love me, Petit-Jean," she said. "You are all I 
 have to love." 
 
 He kissed her, and awkwardly disengaged himself. 
 
 " But stay a moment, Petit-Jean," she urged, when 
 the door had closed on Pierre. " My heart is aching 
 for news from home. Seat yourself; and let us talk 
 awhile as brother and sister, long separated and 
 reunited. Tell me of my mother." 
 
 " She is well," answered Jean ; " and thinking you 
 to be her daughter Jeanne, she sent you many mes 
 sages and gifts." 
 
 "Have I 'no right to them?" asked his sister quickly. 
 "Indeed, I know she would send me quite as many
 
 BLUEBEARD'S CASTLE. 145 
 
 in my own person ; for I was always her favorite. 
 And my mother would not count me an impostor ; 
 my second name was Jeanne, though no one called 
 me by it. How is my father, and the rest, aunts, 
 uncles, nieces, and nephews?" 
 
 " There have been no deaths since that of Jacques." 
 
 "Would to God I could see Domre'my ! " 
 
 "Cologne is a finer place." 
 
 " I hate it ! " she cried with energy. " And I hate 
 the Rhenish count with his red hair and beard. He 
 swallows his words, and says them all in his throat; 
 and he follows me about with silly compliments, and 
 frowns at every man that shows me civility. It an 
 gered him that Sire Nicolle Lowe should give me my 
 beautiful war-horse, and Sire Aubert Boulay a helmet, 
 and my Lord Groignat a sword. The young men who 
 are noble in heart, as well as in name, welcome me 
 in the spirit of brothers, and are eager to join my 
 company, and fight for France in the wars. What 
 will they think of me if I give up my plans, and 
 break Jeanne's vow by becoming a wife?" 
 
 "You have given them no assurance as to the 
 future." 
 
 "No, I am to await the marshal's orders. He bids 
 me remain in Marville till John the Baptist's Day, 
 when he will make his wishes known to me." 
 
 "It will further his wishes to have you become
 
 146 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 Countess of Wiirtemberg," said Jean. "You could 
 never endure the test of 'Constant publicity. Who 
 knows if Orleans would continue to be deceived, or 
 that the king would not discover the imposture ? The 
 marshal must have this in mind when he chooses an 
 obscure border village for your residence, instead of 
 Orleans, Paris, or Loches." 
 
 "Must I give up my purpose of finishing Jeanne's 
 work ? ' ' she asked. 
 
 " That is a fantastic notion of your lady abbess," he 
 replied. "No one lives who could finish Jeanne's 
 work. None but a fanatic would attempt it." 
 
 " Then I have no longer an excuse to give my con 
 science," she said dejectedly. 
 
 " A noble alliance will be your best justification," 
 said Jean. " St. Catherine must have inspired our 
 hard-headed brother with the thought." 
 
 "Could it not be another than Count Ulric?" she 
 asked with a blush. 
 
 " Is there another? " queried Jean. 
 
 "If I must marry, there is one my heart would 
 choose," she answered shyly. " Though whether he 
 is of the same mind, I cannot say." 
 
 "Pierre will wait on no uncertainty," said Jean. 
 " Suppose he had denounced you as an impostor, where 
 would be your suitors now ? Count Ulric himself 
 would desert you."
 
 BLUEBEARD'S CASTLE. 147 
 
 "I had not thought of that," she said with a con 
 tracted brow. 
 
 " Nor do you realize that only the marshal's great 
 power and wealth, and his influence with the king, 
 aided by our co-operation, can save you from such 
 exposure by any one of a hundred conceivable chances. 
 We risk everything on an uncertainty." 
 
 " You torture me, brother." 
 
 "It is well that you should face the truth," he 
 answered, with little sympathy in his tone. 
 
 " I had hoped you would be kinder, Petit- Jean," she 
 said. 
 
 " I mean to be your friend and helper," he answered. 
 
 " But you do not love me as you used." 
 
 " Women count nothing of importance but kisses and 
 compliments," he rejoined impatiently. " It is for your 
 sake that I am willing to give up my honesty, and 
 burden my conscience with a heavy sin. Does that 
 count for nothing ? " 
 
 Claude answered with a sigh ; and when her brother 
 was gone she leaned her arms upon the table, buried 
 her face upon them, and found relief in tears from the 
 torture of a wounded spirit, suffering the wreck of its 
 dearest illusions.
 
 148 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 EEBELLIOUS LOVE. 
 
 ,ECAY had levelled the ancient castle of 
 Thichiemont ; but a tower of later 
 Gothic construction still remained, 
 and being added to and repaired 
 had served for some time as a 
 hunting-lodge. Many stories were 
 told of the scenes which had been enacted here during 
 the life-time of the late Charles des Armoises, father 
 to the present owner, and of a memorable season when 
 the Duke of Burgundy was his guest; and to hunting 
 and feasting had been added the gorgeous luxury in 
 which he delighted, and the frivolous diversions bor 
 rowed in his honor from the French court, politics 
 being ignored on this neutral soil. 
 
 The old steward, Nicole Pasquin, in moments of 
 confidence, would relate to a crony installed on the 
 opposite side of his hearth, the jests and scandals, 
 wild deeds and bursts of riotous passions, that had 
 set cheeks flushing and hearts throbbing that were 
 now cold in the grave. He kept a stock of memories,
 
 REBELLIOUS LOVE. 149 
 
 as he did of ancient armor and cast-off possessions, 
 that might be rubbed up and furbished into accept 
 ability ; but it was his habit to impose upon the vul 
 gar by a dignified silence which left his discretion 
 unimpeached. 
 
 Andre Gosson, the farm overseer at Haraucourt, 
 the modern estate which had long since withdrawn 
 the preponderance of wealth and social activity from 
 Thichiemont, was the one most often chosen as con 
 fidant by Nicole; for he it was who needed to be 
 reminded of the superiority of the past over the 
 present, a truth he was inclined in the face of all 
 the facts to dispute. 
 
 The arrival of the new lord of Haraucourt was a 
 subject of inexhaustible interest among his retainers, 
 from the wealthiest of his tenants to the swineherd 
 in the field. Nicole and Andre* must needs attempt 
 to fathom its significance by the aid of many a deep 
 potation. 
 
 Nicole maintained that a noble lord who rode into 
 Haraucourt unattended, and supped alone in his 
 castle, must be suspected of a leaning towards the 
 the church. None of the race of the Des Armoises, 
 so far as memory reached, had taken religious vows, 
 or distinguished themselves in any other profession 
 than that of arms. It was on the contrary reported, 
 under the rose, that Lord Charles had put the thumb-
 
 150 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 screws on a wealthy abbot to persuade him to yield 
 a share of the revenues of his property which Sire 
 des Armoises claimed. 
 
 Nicole's theory was supported by much circumstan 
 tial evidence. The new lord could read and write ; 
 he never swore unless it were in Greek, in which 
 heathenish language he had been heard to speak. 
 He had even been known to recite Greek poetry, the 
 chaplain at the castle vouching for the fact. He 
 showed an indifference to the condition of his exche 
 quer which encouraged all his agents in the falsifica 
 tion of their accounts. 
 
 Strangest of all, he made a speech from the church 
 steps one Sunday, to a reluctant body of listeners 
 whom the parish priest had succeeded in assembling 
 by threat and exhortation, and solemn assurances of 
 their lord's good-will. Lord Robert confided to his 
 unsympathetic listeners that he had been deeply 
 grieved to see that the news of his arrival had had 
 the effect of a rumor of invasion by the ecorcheurs. 
 
 Houses were vacated, ploughs were left standing 
 in the furrow, household treasures were concealed or 
 packed for transportation in a hurried flight. It was 
 a wild sauve qui pent to the shelter of swamp and 
 forest, more to be trusted than the tender mercies 
 of their liege. 
 
 He promised the peasants that he would in future
 
 REBELLIOUS LOVE. 151 
 
 deserve their confidence if they would give it to 
 him ; declared that he felt to them as a father ; and 
 capped the climax of their amazement by offering to 
 remit a year's rent from any one who had suffered 
 unjust extortion in the past. Not a hind within the 
 remotest quarter of the district but had his tale of 
 woe ready by next day to pour into his ears. 
 
 He would sit like Charlemagne in the public square 
 accessible to all, holding the scales of judgment 
 impartially where he could ; but, yielding at last to 
 the growing mass of evidence that his father had 
 been a dastardly oppressor, he called a conclusion, 
 remitted all rents for a year, and left Haraucourt 
 for Thichiemont where he was now installed. 
 
 The consciousness of his presence in the lodge 
 gave zest to Nicole's criticisms of his master. The 
 old man's face bore a triangular scar as evidence of 
 a blow received as a boy from the hilt of Lord 
 William's sword. The occasion of offense had been 
 the surly expression of countenance which he had 
 worn when standing by, as witness to his father's 
 flogging. 
 
 These were the good old days which Nicole re 
 gretted, scoffing at the effeminate notions which Lord 
 Robert had brought from the East, and challenging 
 his displeasure on the chance of a servant's tale-bear 
 ing.
 
 152 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUK-DE-LIS. 
 
 The summer had invaded Thichiemont. A climb 
 ing vine flaunted its streamers from the topmost 
 battlement to signalize its conquest, gained foot by 
 foot, of the solid masonry. Birds had built on ledge 
 and cornice, and upon the jutting gargoyles whose 
 grossly cynical faces had jeered at the joyous aban 
 donment of their twitterings and love-makings, re 
 newed with each generation, as if no other had been 
 or would be. The mother bird now taught her 
 young to fly, and soon the nests would be empty. 
 
 The lagoons of the marshes lay beneath the sun, 
 like burnished brazen mirrors set in a frame of reeds 
 and rushes and brightly colored flowers. On every 
 side stretched fields of waving grasses, golden yel 
 low, russet and red ; but the unwary traveller who 
 ventured to cross their level expanse might sink 
 in boggy pools or treacherous slime. The Lord of 
 Thichiemont occupied his leisure hours in consid 
 ering what might be required of wealth and mechan 
 ical skill to drain these sloughs, and convert them 
 into fertile fields inhabited by a happy and indus 
 trious population. 
 
 Thichiemont, in its past and present, was a chal 
 lenge to his conscience ; a wilderness purposely kept 
 waste, that game might multiply to afford its owners 
 the pleasure man takes more brutal in this than the 
 brutes in maiming arid killing ; leagues of forest
 
 REBELLIOUS LOVE. 153 
 
 untouched by the axe ; stretches of fertile ground 
 unbroken by the plough ; the peasants reduced to live 
 by poaching and thieving, or to work as beasts of 
 burden. 
 
 " Two years' rents from Haraucourt should work 
 the beginning of a change in Thichiemont," he mused, 
 finding satisfaction in the thought. 
 
 The heat of midsummer drove old Nicole from his 
 seat by the fire, to a bench under a plane-tree which 
 fronted the road over the drawbridge, and gave a 
 wide view to the west. Here he sat daily, direct 
 ing the work of kitchen, barn, and granary, as their 
 various attendants passed within his notice. 
 
 "Here comes Master home from Marville," said 
 Louis, the stable-boy, dropping the bag of hay which 
 he carried to run and hold the stirrup, the vision of 
 a silver-piece lending wings to his zeal. 
 
 " Ho, Nicole," called the Lord of Thichiemont, 
 the ring of a youthful excitement in his tone, "pre 
 pare the best in your stores for supper today. I am 
 to entertain the Maid of Orleans." 
 
 Nicole rose hastily, urged to an unaccustomed agi 
 tation. 
 
 "Run, Michael, run like mad," he said to the 
 greasy scullion loitering in the doorway, "and tell 
 Andre* Gosson to come hither. You will find him 
 at the mill, if he be not through with his business
 
 154 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 and gone home. Tell him to bring me all the pro 
 duce he has collected for Haraucourt. We have 
 guests coming. He shall be well paid." 
 
 Then the old steward made the tour of kitchen 
 and pantries; visited the cellarage, and tapped a cask 
 of ancient wine, religiously preserved in memory of 
 Lord William, in whose time the vintage was made ; 
 ordered slaughter in pen and poultry-yard; had dingy 
 stores of plate set out and polished, worm-eaten tres 
 tles mended, that they might stand firm enough to 
 support the boards of the table, lengthened to the 
 extent a banquet should require; and when all was 
 going forward as he planned, he welcomed Andre* to 
 a seat upon his bench and a share in his satisfaction. 
 
 " Well done, Gosson," he said, scrutinizing the 
 loaded sledge that stood before the door, drawn by 
 two panting peasants who wore over the neck and 
 about the chest a wooden frame like a yoke to which 
 stout ropes were fastened. " This will serve, I think. 
 I know not how many are to be in the company ; 
 but if half of those we saw at Marville should come, 
 we have not spits enough to roast for them, or 
 trenchers enough to serve from. No matter. I have 
 sent an order to Isaac the Jew at Marville for all 
 we shall require. I have not a crown to pay him ; 
 but he may get it from my lord, as he would not 
 from his father."
 
 KEBELLIOtJS LOVE. 155 
 
 The Lord of Thichiemont chanced to pass at this 
 moment, and noticing the group, drew near with 
 anger in his eyes. 
 
 " How is this ? " he cried, frowning at his ancient 
 servitor. "I have not before seen men harnessed like 
 beasts in my service. Let it not be seen again, here 
 or at Haraucourt." 
 
 Gosson shared the lightning of his glance. 
 
 "It is the easiest way for them," he stammered; 
 " far easier than to bear it on their shoulders." 
 
 " Are there no horses or mules to be had for hire ? " 
 asked Des Armoises. 
 
 " There is no money in this house to pay for them," 
 growled Nicole. 
 
 Robert flung him his purse. "That need be no 
 excuse," he said. "Pay the men each a crown, and 
 let them go." 
 
 The steward obeyed, fingering the gold as if it 
 burned his fingers. 
 
 "How many shall we count upon for the banquet, 
 my Lord?" he asked, willing to ignore the unpleasant 
 incident. 
 
 "You may lay a service for three," replied Des 
 Armoises, turning upon his heel to hasten across the 
 drawbridge, unconscious of the consternation which 
 he left behind him. The sound of horses' hoofs had 
 reached his ears, and soon the riders became visible,
 
 156 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 a woman in a crimson riding-gown, and her com 
 panion, a gray-robed priest. 
 
 "Is that the Maid of Orleans?" cried Andr star 
 ing. " She looks like any lady of quality with the 
 plume in her hat, and the fur trimmings on her petti 
 coat. I thought she went in armor with her squire 
 and page/' 
 
 "She will give up fighting the English now, I 
 suppose," said Nicole, hoarse with the effort to con 
 ceal his deep vexation by a tone of indifference. " She 
 is to wed a Rhenish count. I made sure he would 
 be with her, and a train of knights and ladies in 
 their company, some from Metz, and some from Lux 
 embourg. Times have changed. Never was I bidden 
 to serve for three in the hall at Thichiemont." 
 
 He retreated within doors, unwilling to witness the 
 arrival which had so overturned his expectations. 
 
 Gosson waited until his master had entered the 
 lodge with his guests, then he recalled his peasants 
 who dared enter no protest against an authority known 
 of old and not to be undermined on the instant, and 
 accompanying his sledge-load of provisions, he took 
 his reluctant way to Haraucourt, grumbling that 
 Nicole's folly had added a league to the distance. 
 
 The master of Thichiemont sat at table while a 
 tall clock fastened to the outer wall showed by its 
 single hand the hour of four. Nicole had been
 
 REBELLIOUS LOVE. 157 
 
 punctual to the supper hour, which in the old days 
 had been advanced or retarded according to the for 
 tunes of the hunt, sometimes extending to an all- 
 night revel. 
 
 Des Armoises was undecided whether to be vexed 
 or amused by the peculiarities which he noticed in 
 the service of the meal, and which he credited to 
 Nicole's long retirement, not in the least recognizing 
 the intended sarcasm. 
 
 The table, covered with dilapidated damask, stretched 
 the full length of the great hall, furnished on one 
 side with settles which would have accommodated a 
 hundred guests, and on the other with dressers heaped 
 with plate for the convenience of the servants who 
 handed the dishes in their order, presided over by 
 Nicole. One end of the board was occupied by a 
 roasted boar, and the other by an enormous pasty, 
 containing two goslings, three capons, six chickens, 
 and a dozen pigeons, boiled with savory herbs. Nicole 
 had given hours to the construction of this master 
 piece, and had found relief for his wounded feelings 
 in every extra span which he added to its height 
 and breadth. 
 
 For the rest, a few nuts, some native fruits, and the 
 superlative old wine, furnished forth the feast, supple 
 mented as it was by the steward's frequent apologies. 
 Lack of time and helpers skilled in the work, he made
 
 158 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 bold to declare, alone had prevented his serving such a 
 distinguished company as he had often done the Duke 
 of Burgundy and other dignitaries, with the best efforts 
 of the most accomplished cooks ; roasts gilded and cov 
 ered with sugar-plums and pomegranate seeds ; fish 
 cooked in parsley and rolled in powdered ginger; jel 
 lies of red and white formed to represent the crests of 
 every nobleman present ; plums stewed in rose-water, 
 and pies covered with gold-leaf. 
 
 Claude laughed in girlish enjoyment of the ludicrous 
 situation : her host's serious face ; the old major-domo's 
 rusty garments, wild hair, and neglected beard con 
 trasting oddly with the exaggerated dignity of his 
 deportment ; the dilapidated grandeur of the service 
 of plate and linen ; and the ineffectual efforts of the 
 three convives against the gigantic pasty, which re 
 mained like an impregnable fortress showing the scars 
 of an ineffectual attack. 
 
 At the conclusion of the meal, Des Armoises took 
 his guests to walk about the courtyard and terraces, 
 whence Father Ambrose shortly afterwards withdrew 
 himself in order to examine the ruins of the chapel 
 which had been built in Oriental style by Lord Raoul 
 Des Armoises, the Crusader, whose bones reposed in a 
 demolished crypt beneath. Robert willingly left these 
 reminiscences of the past to the solitary contemplation 
 of the priest, and returned with a sigh of relief to
 
 REBELLIOUS LOVE. 159 
 
 Claude's side, where she stood watching the level flight 
 of a heron that wheeled above the trees. The warm 
 wind brought the balsamic scent of the forest upon it, 
 and the transparent air quivered with the flight of 
 dancing gnats like golden motes in the sunbeams. 
 
 " This is a perfect day," said Robert ; " one perfect 
 day of life ; but, alas, how soon to be ended." 
 
 "It is always so," said Claude ; "a happy time flies 
 fast, and sad hours drag." 
 
 " All time is happy for you," he answered. 
 
 She sighed, and strayed onwards, plucking idly at 
 the bushes that thrust vagrant branches across the 
 path, as if forbidding progress along its unfrequented 
 way. The stoutest of these Des Armoises held aside 
 for her to pass, while he submitted to the blow of the 
 recoil as if indifferent to the smart, or welcoming it as 
 an offset to the pain in his heart. The sun was fast 
 slipping down the western slope, while the synchro 
 nous lengthening of the shadows of tower and tree 
 gave the measure of its decline. 
 
 The narrow, overgrown pathway led to an open rec 
 tangular plot of level greensward, set about with an 
 cient trees, and furnished at one end with a marble 
 bench which invited to repose, since it became evident 
 that the limit of progress in this direction had been 
 reached. This clearing marked the site of a former 
 tennis-court, long abandoned and forgotten.
 
 160 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUE-DE-LIS. 
 
 " I have never chanced upon this spot before," said 
 Des Armoises, looking curiously about him. "It is 
 like a bit of Arcady." 
 
 " It is as peaceful as Paradise," responded Claude. 
 "I wish I might be forever in such a place." 
 
 Des Armoises checked the reply that rose impul 
 sively to his lips ; and bending a troubled gaze upon 
 his companion, he said, " I have a confession to make, 
 Jeanne. Grant me pardon if it offends." 
 
 She seated herself upon the marble bench, removed 
 her hat, and allowed the sunbeams, as they filtered 
 through the oak-leaves, to fall in a golden shower upon 
 her hair. She inclined her head with a wan smile as 
 she replied, " I have no fear of your offending by any 
 thing you can say." 
 
 " I am predestined to do so," he answered ; " for 
 whether you are to marry the Count of Wiirtemburg 
 from choice or, as I have guessed, from motives of 
 policy forced upon you by others, my love for you, to 
 be guiltless of offense, should be unconfessed. I must 
 dare your displeasure, and take advantage of this pre 
 cious moment, which I know too well can never return, 
 to tell you that you are the one peerless woman in this 
 world for me, whom to love hopelessly is a happier des 
 tiny than to win another. I ask for nothing ; I will 
 not woo even a look of kindness, for I am no Tristan 
 treacherously seeking that which I can not openly 
 claim."
 
 REBELLIOUS LOVE. 161 
 
 He paused, meeting Claude's uplifted, smiling eyes. 
 
 "Do not speak, Jeanne," he added hurriedly. "Do 
 not tell me that you forgive me, for I feel my resolu 
 tion melting like the wings of Icarus in the sunshine. 
 If you should be too pitiful, I should forget your 
 name, your past, all that I most admire in you, and 
 degrade my adoration for you into a selfish human 
 passion that will have all and give all, defying God 
 and destiny. I have known the madness of such a 
 love, and have felt its thorns, and tasted the dust and 
 ashes of repentance. I must not now relinquish my 
 highest ideal, and yield again to Circe's enchantment." 
 
 Claude's look changed quickly as if the shadow of 
 a passing cloud had fallen upon her face ; and she rose, 
 saying with a mocking inflection, "If I am not to 
 answer, messire, I must not listen ; nor did I come to 
 Thichiemont for this." 
 
 "You remind me that I abuse your acceptance of 
 my hospitality," said Robert. " The despair I have 
 suffered since I heard of your approaching marriage 
 must be my excuse. I have fought as if with fiends 
 in this dreary solitude, which you have now conse 
 crated for me by your presence. But I am a man 
 again. Let us forget what I have spoken." 
 
 There were unshed tears in Claude's eyes ; but Rob 
 ert observed only the enigmatical smile with which she 
 regarded him, as she said, " Most willingly ; and in re-
 
 162 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUli-DE-LIS. 
 
 turn I will confide to you that my marriage is, as you 
 imagine, a necessity forced upon me. I have never 
 been free to follow the dictates of my own heart; 
 but in this I am happy, since I please my brothers, 
 and take the course that duty has marked for me." 
 
 Des Armoises sighed as he replied, " You will leave 
 France, and you will forget France ; Jeanne the Pu- 
 celle will be only a name, as if she had indeed died 
 at Rouen." 
 
 " Yes," said Claude ; " a breath of wind to stir men's 
 lips, and be forgotten. Another confidence I will give 
 you. Father Ambrose has promised me that, if at the 
 last my courage fails me, he will contrive that I shall 
 escape to the shelter of a convent. In any case, this is 
 our last farewell, messire. We shall not meet again." 
 
 " God bless you," said Robert, bending above her 
 hand, and kissing it fervently. " I will come here and 
 think of you and of this moment, which with all its 
 torment is happier than any that can follow." 
 
 A gray robe was visible through the trees; and 
 Father Ambrose came into sight, walking rapidly with 
 a preoccupied expression, which changed into a fur 
 tive smile as Des Armoises advanced to meet him. 
 
 " The day wanes," said the priest ; " and the horses 
 are being made ready for the return." 
 
 Claude stooped for a moment above the marble bench 
 to reassume her hat which lay there ; while at the same
 
 REBELLIOUS LOVE. 163 
 
 a 
 
 time she detached a silver medal from a tiny chain 
 which she wore about her neck, and placed it carefully 
 upon the seat which she quitted. It was a small sil 
 ver shield, bearing on one side the arms of the family 
 of Du Lis, and on the other the words Te Amo.
 
 164 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUK-DE-LIS. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 A MESSAGE. 
 
 >AUCOULEURS became a Mecca of 
 pilgrimage when it was learned that 
 Jeanne's brothers had returned, bear 
 ing letters and messages from the 
 Maid, to Orleans, to the king, and 
 to the people of her native place ; 
 and that the messengers were lodged on their way 
 to Loches at the expense of the governor of the town. 
 It was rumored that Jean du Lis had been promised 
 the appointment of Provost of Vaucouleurs; but the 
 intelligence which swallowed up all else in amaze 
 ment was that of the approaching marriage of the 
 Maid. 
 
 Domre'my stood aghast at the news. Isabel at first 
 vigorously denied it, and then immediately fell to 
 weeping to think that she had not been bidden to the 
 wedding. Father Fulbert, to whose dull ears the in 
 formation was imparted by a zealous neophyte from 
 the convent, astonished the pious youth by staring a 
 moment indignantly in his face, and then administering
 
 A MESSAGE. 165 
 
 a resounding blow which sent him staggering against 
 the wall. " Lies and villainy ! " cried the old priest. 
 "The world is full of slanders against the chosen of 
 the Lord." Then he fell into a violent fit of weeping, 
 which was the cause, it was commonly thought, of the 
 stroke of apoplexy of which he died the following week. 
 
 Isabel rode on a pillion behind Durand Laxart as 
 far as Petit-Bury, where Pierre's wife had been con 
 fined in his absence at the house of her uncle, and 
 where the whole family assembled on the occasion 
 of the christening, which had been fixed for the day 
 succeeding the father's arrival. 
 
 The event which called them together was almost 
 forgotten in the excitement of greeting, comment, and 
 question which filled the house with a hubbub as of 
 swarming bees. Pierre's wife, Jeanne of Prouville, 
 who sat propped up in state in the great bed of the 
 guest-chamber, noticed with indignation that the con 
 gratulations which should fall to her share were given 
 to Isabel, and that Jeanne, and not the latest addition 
 to the family of Du Lis, was the object of all thoughts. 
 
 When the priest in the midst of the ceremony 
 demanded the name of the child, an unexpected dis 
 cussion occurred. 
 
 "As to that, there is only one name possible," 
 cried Isabel. " She must be named Jeanne in honor 
 of my famous child."
 
 166 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUK-DE-LIS. 
 
 "I have no objection," replied the young mother, 
 " for it is the name I had meant to give her, being 
 my own. You may call Jeanne Dare her godmother, 
 if you choose." 
 
 "No," said Pierre. "I forbid it. She shall be 
 called Catherine." 
 
 " You cannot be serious, Pierre," exclaimed his wife ; 
 " we have one Catherine and two Jeans. Why repeat 
 another name in the family?" 
 
 "Call the child Claude," said Jean, regarding his 
 brother with significant displeasure. " Our sister 
 Jeanne took that name in the convent, and loves still 
 to be called by it. It is one that is new in our 
 family, a pretty name, and suitable as well for a man 
 as a woman. It commemorates our sister's reappear 
 ance better than any other title we could give a god 
 child of hers." 
 
 " No ; that, I think, the name of Catherine does," 
 answered Pierre doggedly ; " and that is the babe's 
 name or none." 
 
 With this, the service proceeded to a close, Pierre's 
 strange mood still clouding his wife's serenity. 
 
 " That was a kind thought of yours, my son ! " ex 
 claimed Isabel. " You have a fond and faithful heart. 
 No one else to-day has remembered your sister Cath 
 erine." 
 
 "Ask my brother Jean if she has not been often
 
 A MESSAGE. 167 
 
 in his thoughts," rejoined Pierre, regarding Jean as 
 he spoke with a sinister smile. 
 
 Isabel could not long allow her attention to wander 
 from the subject uppermost in her mind. "To think 
 that Jeanne is to wed a count," she said. "I must 
 go to the wedding if I have to crawl on hands and 
 knees. How far is it to Arlon, Durand?" 
 
 " It is twice as far as Metz," he answered. 
 
 " You could never make the journey," interposed 
 Jean quickly. " The roads are not safe. No one 
 knows where the Scorcheurs may next descend with 
 ravage and pillage. Wait till I come back with my 
 answer from the king. I will try then to arrange a 
 meeting." 
 
 Isabel wiped her eyes. "I have waited till I can 
 wait no longer," she said. "Unless I see her, I can 
 not yet realize that Jeanne is alive, and that you have 
 talked with her face to face. How did she look? 
 Was she pale? Had she fallen away in flesh? Was 
 she happy or sad ? " 
 
 " As happy as a lark," answered Jean ; " and looks 
 much the same as formerly. A trifle stouter and 
 more ruddy, perhaps." 
 
 "A little taller, too, I think," said Pierre gravely; 
 "and her hair a shade lighter." 
 
 Jean frowned fiercely at his brother, and, drawing 
 him aside, engaged him in earnest conversation, the
 
 168 THE SHIELD OP THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 result of which was declared in Pierre's relinquishing 
 the mission to Loches to his brother, while agreeing 
 to share its expenses. 
 
 The family gathering dispersed with expressions 
 of mutual good-will, heightened by the consciousness 
 that each was a sharer in a distinction contingent 
 upon his relationship to the famous Maid of France. 
 
 Isabel rode homeward deep in a project which she 
 did not dare to confide to her companions, but to 
 whose execution she addressed herself with the 
 shrewd pertinacity of a daughter of Lorraine. Meet 
 ing Robin of Greux in front of her house, she found 
 means to speak to him unnoticed. 
 
 " You are the man I had in mind," she said, " to 
 help me in a difficult undertaking, that will require 
 courage and discretion, and the ownership of two 
 stout horses. If you will .meet me at nightfall in the 
 hillside pasture yonder, I will tell you my meaning 
 with more particularity. Meantime, keep it secret 
 from every living soul." 
 
 Flattered by the confidence, Robin swore by the 
 holy rood to observe the utmost discretion and punc 
 tuality ; and, relying on this promise, Isabel stole 
 out-of-doors in the fragrant dusk of the late summer 
 night, walked through the long, rustling grass of the 
 churchyard, and up a winding path to a sloping 
 meadow set about with a fringe of thicket. Three
 
 A MESSAGE. 169 
 
 sheep huddled in a corner of the fence-rail were the 
 sole occupants of this inclosure, to which in the day 
 time a milch cow had entrance ; for the flocks of 
 the family of Dare had dwindled with the increase 
 of more permanent possessions, and since Isabel dwelt 
 alone with her husband in the homestead, a neighbor's 
 child was hired for a few deniers to drive the sheep 
 back and forth between brook and pasture, a neg 
 lectful attendance, which set old Jacques lamenting 
 the closely calculated industry of former days. 
 
 The animals, not knowing Isabel as their owner, 
 fled at her approach ; and she sank upon the grass 
 in the cover of the thicket and waited, listening to 
 their restless movements, to the crackling of a dry 
 twig here and there, the shrill voices of frogs in the 
 valley, and the hoot of an owl in the forest on the 
 hill. Although she strained her ears, she could dis 
 tinguish no other sound. Robin had failed her. 
 This she realized with a sense of bitter disappoint 
 ment; and rising stiff and weary from her cramped 
 position upon the dewy grass, she took her way 
 across the open square of starlit meadow. At the 
 same time a figure rose to meet her from the oppo 
 site shade. 
 
 "Why have you delayed? " asked Robin, stretching 
 his arms with a yawn. " I have been waiting here 
 for an hour under the hedge-row."
 
 170 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 "I could not come before," said Isabel, not admit 
 ting the futility of her wasted moments of strained 
 expectancy. " You have been fast asleep here upon 
 the grass." 
 
 " I may have had a wink or two, since I am seldom 
 out of bed at this hour," he answered ; " but I slept 
 with one eye open, expecting you every moment. 
 What do you want with me? " 
 
 " I want you to take me to Arlon," she said. " I 
 shall die if I may not see my daughter Jeanne. My 
 sons will not listen to my going ; and Durand believes 
 that I should wait until she sends for me. But go 
 I must, and at once." 
 
 "I am the man to serve you," cried Robin with 
 alacrity, slapping his thigh to give emphasis to his 
 words. " Ever since I heard she was to be a countess, 
 I have been cudgelling my brains to contrive how I 
 might gain the notice of Jeanne Dare. Nothing could 
 serve my purpose better than to go in your company ; 
 for when she gives you the seat of honor at the wed 
 ding feast, a place may be found for me above the salt; 
 and when she takes you to Cologne to live in her castle, 
 I may get the place of seneschal or chamberlain. When 
 shall we start?" 
 
 " At once," replied Isabel. " I have left word with 
 Aveline to visit my house early in the morning. When 
 she finds me gone she will stay and care for Jacques.
 
 A MESSAGE. 171 
 
 I have a purse of money in my belt which I have 
 hoarded 'piece by piece to pay for masses to be said for 
 my children who are gone ; bat Jacques and Catherine 
 will not grudge it to me if I use it now to see my 
 Jeanne, for the prayers we said for her when we 
 believed her dead may surely be placed to the credit 
 of the two who need them." 
 
 " It would take a wiser head than mine to settle the 
 debit and credit in such a case," answered Robin doubt 
 fully. " I cannot tell what a churchman's answer 
 might.be; but as a man of the world I commend your 
 decision, for money is the first requisite for our jour 
 ney. I will saddle Grizzle, and catcli Dapple who is in 
 the field, and meet you in the lane by the mill-pond 
 before the Wagoner is an hour lower." 
 
 This promise of dispatch was the sweetest satisfac 
 tion to Isabel's impatience ; but for all her eager haste, 
 she lingered a moment in the churchyard to bend above 
 the slab which bore the name of Jacques Dare. 
 
 A tear fell upon the stone. "Alas," she sighed, 
 " a mother's heart is torn by wounds as many in num 
 ber as the children she has borne ; but the living must 
 be put before the dead." 
 
 Two moving figures might have been seen at mid 
 night, if any had been abroad to observe them, climb 
 ing the dusty white highway till it met the horizon, 
 where for a moment their outlines were darkly defined
 
 172 THE SHIELD OP THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 against the broad luminosity of starlit sky, and then 
 lost from view in the shadows of the verdant valley. 
 
 The master of Haraucourt was weary of country 
 solitudes where ungrateful peasants thwarted his efforts 
 at reforming the condition of their lives by a stolid 
 indifference to his plans and an invincible distrust of 
 his purposes ; where his agents returned his confidence 
 by systematically defrauding him; and where Nature 
 herself had become unfriendly to his disenchanted 
 spirit. When the hay was harvested, Des Armoises 
 turned his back on Haraucourt, meaning to ride to 
 Metz by way of Villette, where he had a pressing 
 invitation to visit his friend Jean de Thoneletil and 
 his fair wife. He set forth on a day in early August 
 when the air was full of a languorous warmth which 
 drew forth spicy odors from thicket and forest, and set 
 the bees buzzing, embarrassed by the choice of sweets, 
 among a wilderness of flowers. The landscape in the 
 maturity of summer loveliness shone in the mellow 
 light as if seen through a golden veil. Robert felt his 
 heart expand, in spite of himself, with the joy of mere 
 existence. He thought of the seductive blue eyes of 
 the Lady of Villette, and in contrast to them recalled 
 the tender reserve of Eudeline's glance ; and half un 
 consciously he hummed the refrain of a popular pas 
 toral which ran :
 
 A MESSAGE. 173 
 
 " Si tu peux avoir ta bergere 
 Oserai-tu demander mieux ? " 
 
 " We ask too much of life," he said to himself, " Frois- 
 sart's shepherdess teaches the true philosophy: 
 
 " Et la bergerette 
 Disait en sa chansonette 
 
 Si je veuil estre ta miette 
 Oserai-tu demander mieux ? " 
 
 These words he sang so gayly that the woodland alleys 
 re-echoed with the sound ; and a traveller, lost in their 
 mazes, blessed his good fortune, and spurred his weary 
 horse to come up with the singer, meeting him at the 
 crossing of the roads where four corners marked the 
 points of compass. 
 
 " Praise God and St. Re*mi," said the newcomer. 
 " I have found you, Sire Des Armoises, when I hardly 
 hoped to live to reach your castle. My horse is on his 
 last legs ; my stomach is as empty as a bagpipe ; and 
 I tremble so with weakness that I can hardly sit up 
 right in the saddle." 
 
 This address came from the lips of Robin of Greux, 
 whose pinched and pallid features and weather-stained 
 apparel, as well as the jaded appearance of his horse, 
 bore witness to the truth of his words. Des Ar 
 moises looked with surprise at the unwelcome ap 
 parition, and cast his glance along the highroad as if 
 meditating escape ; but Robin, divining his purpose,
 
 174 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUK-DE-LIS. 
 
 pressed near him, and laid his hand upon the pom 
 mel of his saddle, while he said, " I have a message 
 to you from the Maid of Orleans." 
 
 A quick flush rose to Des Armoises's cheek, and 
 a sudden light to his eyes, as he cried, " Out with it, 
 man! Tell it in as few words as possible. I know 
 you of old, and have no mind to be deluged with a 
 flood of empty verbiage, out of which I must sift a 
 few grains of sense. Quick, deliver your message." 
 
 Robin folded his hands upon his stomach with a 
 grimace. " I cannot talk fasting," he said. " If you 
 will take me home with you and feed me, I will 
 tell you all you want to know." 
 
 " I am travelling to Villette," said Des Armoises ; 
 "but yonder lies the way to my hunting-lodge in 
 the forest. My steward will furnish you with meat 
 and drink, since I will give you an order upon him. 
 Meantime, here is a purse which is yours when you 
 shall have discharged your commission." 
 
 " Keep your money for the present," said Robin. 
 " My story includes the adventures of six long and 
 tedious weeks, and the wisest man in the world could 
 not tell it in ten words. If you have no time to wait 
 for it, let it go. The message was of no great impor 
 tance." 
 
 " Of that you are not fitted to judge," replied 
 Robert in vexation. "But since you value nothing
 
 A MESSAGE. 175 
 
 so much as liberty to prate uninterrupted, I will 
 humor you so far as to turn out of my way and 
 spend one night at Thichiemont." 
 
 " Ha ! " cried Robin, " that is one of the words of 
 my message. Jeanne made me repeat it a dozen times 
 for fear I might forget." 
 
 "For God's sake tell me the rest," urged Des Ar- 
 moises impetuously. " You shall have a gold crown 
 for each word." 
 
 Robin's small eyes shone covetously, but he shook 
 his head with obstinate decision. "When you hear 
 all, you will give me that and more," he said. " The 
 cathedral of Toul was not built in a day ; haste 
 makes waste ; and he who goes too fast falls over 
 the stile. There is a time to talk and a time to 
 keep silent; and hunger is a foe to wit." 
 
 " Follow at your leisure, then," said Des Armoises. 
 "It is a straight road, and you cannot miss it. I will 
 precede you to urge Nicole to instant attention to 
 your needs." 
 
 " You cannot do better, messire," responded Robin 
 with dignity ; " and I beg you will see that Grizzle 
 has an extra measure of oats, for the poor beast is 
 as nearly starved as his master." 
 
 An hour later Robin sat at table in a small arched 
 chamber of Thichiemont tower, an empty trencher 
 before him, and a full mug of wine at his side,
 
 176 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 while his face bore a look of beatific contentment, 
 expressed also in the mellifluous flow of his sentences. 
 Des Armoises paced the floor, his head bent and his 
 hands clasped behind him, listening, with an effort at 
 patient attention, to the leisurely progress of the nar 
 rative. 
 
 "When Isabel Rome'e had come to this decision, 
 nothing remained but to put it into execution," said 
 Robin bombastically. "And though I knew that the 
 road from Metz to Arlon was beset with dangers, and 
 liable at any moment to the attack of Scorcheurs and 
 retondeurs, I did not hesitate a moment to promise her 
 the protection of my company." 
 
 " Where did you gain your information ? " inquired 
 Robert. " Of late we of Lorraine have been spared 
 the visits of these robbers." 
 
 " Wait till you hear my story," said Robin. " I have 
 a piece of paper here that will cause you to open your 
 eyes. Isabel was so mad with impatience to see her 
 daughter Jeanne that fear of the devil could not 
 restrain her. It began pouring rain by noontime, and 
 as dusk came on we lost the way, as I did again to-day, 
 and we floundered through bog and mire, forded 
 brooks, and climbed slippery hills, till I thought we 
 both would die of weariness ; when at last a light 
 shone out of the forest, and we made our way towards 
 it, thinking it to be a house. Well, messire, in a
 
 A MESSAGE. 177 
 
 moment it was as if we had entered hell, and all 
 its fiends were let loose about us. They rose up 
 from behind bushes and rocks, armed with arquebuses 
 and arbalets ; and one tall fellow gave me a blow 
 which sent me sprawling on the ground, while another 
 pulled Isabel from her horse, stole her belt of money, 
 and was carrying her off in spite of her screams, when 
 with great presence of mind I called out, though flat 
 on my back in the mud with an arquebus close to my 
 mouth, ' Hold your hands, villains ! This woman is 
 mother to the Maid of Orleans, and I, a friend whom 
 she intends to honor with a high office under the 
 Count of Wiirtemberg.' This timely speech wrought 
 a change in our affairs. The bandits considered that 
 we might be worthy of ransom ; and they sent to ask 
 the orders of their chiefs, who were feasting together 
 in a house at no great distance, whose master they 
 had taken for ransom, and whose stores they had 
 broken into and distributed among their men. The 
 name of Jeanne Dare acted like a charm ; and we 
 were immediately treated by the chiefs' orders with 
 the greatest consideration. Isabel's money was re 
 stored ; for my damaged coat I was given a new one ; 
 and we were bidden to attend the chieftains at supper. 
 This honor I would willingly have dispensed with, for 
 I never cared to be of the company of rogues and 
 villains, and Isabel was well nigh fainting for fear ;
 
 178 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 but even the devil is not as black as he is painted, 
 and these two gentlemen, it proved, were very dis 
 tinguished soldiers, being no others, indeed, than the 
 famous Etienne de Vignolles and Pothon de Saint- 
 railles, who were no common bandits, as they assured 
 us, but were officers of the king's justice, as bailiffs 
 of Vermandois and Bourges. They had met on the 
 borders of Luxembourg, meaning to join themselves 
 to the command of the Maid of Orleans ; but, learn 
 ing of her intended marriage, they did not continue 
 their journey, La Hire declaring himself deeply dis 
 appointed at the failure of their plans. They had 
 meant to win credit by undertaking the siege of 
 Rouen, or some other great enterprise under the 
 leadership of the Pucelle. Meantime, they lived off 
 of the country, which they considered was no more 
 than their just reward for the services they had done 
 it; but no good Frenchman, I was told, had ever 
 suffered at their hands. For the mother of the Maid 
 of Orleans, their respect was so unbounded, that they 
 offered us an escort of soldiers for the rest of our 
 journey; and to make our return secure, they gave 
 me this slip of paper marked with their names as 
 passport. No one, they said, would dare to oppose its 
 authority. It has carried me safely through the coun 
 try as they promised me ; but it has neither clad my 
 back nor filled my stomach. No one has taken me
 
 A MESSAGE. 
 
 179 
 
 for an corcheur, though I had these two names to 
 show to my credit." 
 
 With this, Robin produced a crumpled piece of 
 parchment inscribed with the autographs : 
 
 AND 
 
 Des Armoises looked at these signatures with in 
 terest. "You had a fortunate escape," he said; "but 
 tell me how you met the Maid." 
 
 "It was a game of hide-and-seek," answered Robin. 
 "Isabel fell sick from the drenching and the fright 
 she had had, and I left her in a peasant's house on 
 the road to Arlon, promising to return with her 
 daughter, or to bring a litter to carry her the rest of 
 the way; but my horse was lame, and I was forced 
 to travel slowly, and when I reached the duchess's 
 castle I found that Jeanne had left it for Cologne, 
 and that my acquaintance with her secured me 
 neither money nor credit. So back I posted to take 
 counsel with Isabel ; and found her so ill with a
 
 180 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 rheumatic fever that she could not move in the bed. 
 'The devil has bound me hand and foot,' she said, 
 weeping. ' You must go without me to Cologne ; ' 
 and she gave me all the money she had left, trust 
 ing that when Jeanne knew of her state she would 
 send her a purse full. 
 
 "As I was not sure that Isabel would live to re 
 cover from so violent an illness, I found means to send 
 word of her state by a passing company of muleteers 
 to her friends in Toul, and from thence to Vaucou- 
 leurs ; and I set out again alone with the courage of 
 a knight-errant, and with constant ill-luck; for I met 
 with many delays and mishaps, which I will not now 
 take time to relate." 
 
 " Thank Heaven for that," interposed Robert. 
 
 " And if it had not been for a merciful providence 
 I should never have reached Cologne alive. I fell 
 in, however, with a party of merchants who were 
 travelling that way, and they made me welcome to 
 their company, and were useful to me in interpreting 
 the strange jargon of the people, and making me ac 
 quainted with their ways. When I reached Cologne, 
 I found that Jeanne was off again to the summer 
 residence of the Counts of Wiirtemburg, at a dis 
 tance from the city ; but as she was expected to re 
 turn, I determined to wait for her, and took lodgings 
 with a worthy apothecary, whose son was a cripple
 
 A MESSAGE. 181 
 
 and spent his time in carving wooden images of St. 
 Ursula, which he sold to pilgrims. I bought one 
 of them, and kept it always by me ; and to it I ascribe 
 my cure from a singular ailment which baffled the 
 skill of the apothecary, and did not yield to any one 
 of a dozen drugs which he tried on me in succession." 
 
 " You chatter as if possessed by the spirits of St. 
 Ursula and her eleven thousand virgins," exclaimed 
 Des Armoises. "Be good enough to confine yourself 
 to the main points of your story. When did you 
 meet Jeanne ? " 
 
 "I am coming to that, "replied Robin. "Luckily 
 for me, the apothecary's wife was a Frenchwoman, 
 and one who missed no news of the day. It was 
 through her that I learned of the miracle that Jeanne 
 was to do." 
 
 " A miracle ! " exclaimed Des Armoises. 
 
 " Yes. It was promised when Jeanne came to 
 Cologne that she would cure the sister of the count 
 of a mortal illness, and secure to him the succession 
 to a disputed inheritance ; and it was this which Count 
 Ulric had ridden to Lorraine to beg her to do, not 
 knowing he would fall in love and ask her to wife. 
 Well, it seems she had no sooner gone to Wiirtem- 
 burg than the count's sister died, and the emperor 
 adjudged the case of the succession against the count. 
 This made no difference in Count Ulric's love for her,
 
 182 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 and the wedding-day was set; but a rumor was started 
 by the enemies of France that Jeanne was an im 
 postor, and every one began to clamor for a miracle 
 to prove her claims. 
 
 " For a time this went unheeded ; but at last it was 
 determined that she should show her power by work 
 ing a marvel that would set all doubts at rest. The 
 place chosen was a public square in the city, where 
 a platform was built covered with cloth-of-gold, on 
 which Jeanne was to stand in the presence of all the 
 dignitaries of Cologne and its district. The guards 
 of the Count of Wiirtemburg escorted her with great 
 honor as she rode in armor with a squire and a priest 
 by her side. When I saw her and her companions, 
 my heart gave a leap, for I knew her at once, and 
 my old friend, Pierre of Toul, who was promoted to 
 be her confessor; and I made sure she would know 
 me as well when she had the opportunity. Ambrose 
 made a Latin prayer when she had come upon the 
 platform ; and then before the eyes of thousands, 
 Jeanne did a marvel that I would never have 
 credited if told me by another. First she broke a 
 crystal vase, and laid the fragments upon a table ; 
 then she took a silken napkin, and tore it in two. 
 After that, she raised her eyes to heaven, made some 
 motion with her hands, and Presto ! there were the 
 vase and napkin whole as at first.
 
 A MESSAGE. 183 
 
 "The people shouted with delight, and she went 
 back in triumph to the castle, where there was a 
 banquet and a dance in her honor; and Count Ulric 
 danced with her a dozen times it was said. But he 
 who is high must look for a fall. The very next 
 day the Inquisition brought against her the charge of 
 heresy and witchcraft, which they said she had escaped 
 at Rouen by the power of the devil ; and it would 
 have gone hard with her if she had fallen into their 
 clutches ; but, as it was, the count had warning in 
 time, and sent Jeanne off by night under a strong 
 guard to Aiion, while Count Ulric was shut up 
 against his will in the castle, where it took three 
 men to hold him and to keep him from doing him 
 self an injury, so great was his despair at parting 
 with his love. The old count, too, loved Jeanne well, 
 and loaded her with gifts ; but he had no mind to 
 have a daughter-in-law who might be cited at any 
 time before the Holy Office. I followed back again 
 to Arlon ; and there, after all this weary time, at last 
 I met with Jeanne. She was seated at table with 
 the duchess, when I managed to escape the notice 
 of the guards and enter the dining-hall ; where I fell 
 on my knees before her. As ill-luck would have 
 it, I chanced to overturn a trestle that held the 
 boards of the table, and spilled half a dozen soups 
 into the lap of the duchess, for which the duke
 
 184 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 would have clapped me into prison; but Jeanne en 
 treated my pardon, saying that I was a friend of 
 hers ; and afterwards she walked with me in the garden 
 as gracious as you please, and listened to my story, 
 and inquired for her mother, and sent her some 
 money, and gave me a gold chain, and made me 
 promise to go home by way of Thichiemont and ask 
 the Sire Des Armoises if he had found the token 
 which she had left for him upon the marble bench 
 at Thichiemont. ' He will pay you a hundred-fold 
 for this message,' she said." 
 
 " This is an amazing story ! " exclaimed Des Ar 
 moises. "I do not know how much of it I dare 
 venture to credit. Your last sentence, I doubt not, 
 is apocryphal; and as for the rest, I cannot judge 
 where truth ends and falsehood begins." 
 
 " I swear by all the saints that every word is gos 
 pel truth," said Robin. " How could I serve myself 
 by telling you a lie? Remember that you promised 
 me a crown for each word of the message, which 
 you should increase tenfold, considering that I have 
 risked my life to deliver it." 
 
 " You shall have all you ask, if you have told the 
 truth," replied Robert. "Wait for me here until I 
 return." 
 
 He hastened from the room, and ran rather than 
 walked to the marble bench under the trees of the
 
 A MESSAGE. 185 
 
 tennis-court, where upon the seat there still lay the 
 discolored silver medal which Jeanne had placed 
 there. Des Armoises took it in his hand, and scru 
 tinized its design and inscription with eyes upon 
 which a new light dawned. 
 
 On the morning of the next day, at earliest dawn, 
 Robin, with a heavy wallet and a light heart, resumed 
 his road; and Des Armoises, turning his back on 
 Thichiemont, made his way towards Arlon at the full 
 speed of his fleet Arabian, that had never known his 
 master make so severe a test of his strength and 
 courage since he had carried aid to the forlorn-hope 
 on the occasion of an ambushed attack by the Turks, 
 when many a brave knight bit the dust.
 
 186 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE ARCHIVES OF ORLEANS. 
 
 (EUR-DE-LIS, the herald of Orleans, 
 entered Arlon on a mission to the Maid 
 on the same day that Des Armoises 
 rode into the city; and the young man 
 following in the throng that surrounded 
 the famous messenger looked with interest at his 
 splendid attire, at the tabard of crimson silk worked 
 in gold with the arms of the city, and the porcupine, 
 the device of the house of Orleans, embroidered on his 
 shoulders. 
 
 Orleans was a name to stir the heart ; and Robert felt 
 with a pang of apprehension, that Jeanne's past, ren 
 dered vivid by this embodiment of its inspiring memo 
 ries, might prove at this juncture his most formidable 
 rival. He watched the gorgeous embassy enter the 
 castle, preceded by a flourish of trumpets that set the 
 echoes ringing; and feeling that his errand was hope 
 lessly retarded by the herald's presence, he whiled 
 away a tedious day at an inn, and towards evening set 
 out on foot for the castle, where he learned that a
 
 THE ARCHIVES OF ORLEANS. 187 
 
 grand festival was in progress. This was made evi 
 dent by the fireworks that, as soon as night came on, 
 flew sputtering above the tree-tops to the delight of the 
 crowd assembled to view them. 
 
 Mingling with the multitude, Des Armoises entered 
 the castle gardens, which, thus illuminated, appeared 
 as a labyrinth of winding paths bordered by tall box 
 hedges, and interspersed with fish-ponds, arbors, pedes- 
 talled statues, and bosky clumps of wildwood, the 
 whole arrangement bearing a designed resemblance to 
 the pleasure grounds of an Italian villa. 
 
 The people of the town were admitted to the ter 
 races whence the fireworks might be viewed, but 
 -guards wearing the badge of the house of Luxembourg 
 were placed at intervals to repel their intrusion upon 
 the walks immediately about the castle. These were 
 occupied by a throng of masquers, fantastically arrayed 
 as goddesses, troubadours, shepherdesses, and Saracens, 
 whose gay voices mingled with the sound of hautboys 
 and clarionets concealed among the trees. 
 
 Des Armoises strolled unchallenged among the rev 
 ellers, avoiding the more frequented alleys, until he 
 came to an inviting seat beneath an arbor, where he 
 placed himself to watch the corruscating shapes of fire 
 that blazed for a moment in the summer sky, like dev 
 astating comets, and faded leaving no trace behind; 
 until the end of the display was reached in a sheaf of
 
 188 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUII-DE-L1S. 
 
 arrows which darted to the zenith from the centre of a 
 crown, beneath which appeared in blazing letters, the 
 name Jeanne. This masterpiece of pyrotechnic art 
 was greeted by universal applause. 
 
 " How do you enjoy our illumination, messire ? " 
 asked a voice in his ear ; and turning hastily, Des Ar- 
 moises observed that the other end of his bench was 
 occupied by a shepherdess, whose crook bore a bunch 
 of roses tied with a knot of ribbons which fluttered also 
 at her shoulders and elbows, and were used to loop the 
 floating draperies of her dress. " And why are you 
 alone here in the shadow, when every other knight is 
 performing his devoirs as an escort of ladies ? " she 
 added. " Is it that you are ill or in love ? " 
 
 " The latter rather than the former," responded Des 
 Armoises. 
 
 " I had guessed it," she replied. " Love is of itself 
 a sort of malady, from which many recover, and none, 
 as far as I know, die. Has your lady proved false or 
 cruel, that you are left to mope alone ? " 
 
 " You will understand my condition when I tell you 
 that her name is that which lately shone across the 
 heavens like Constantine's cross, a miracle of light," he 
 answered. 
 
 " Jeanne du Lis ! " exclaimed the lady. " Who are 
 you, bold knight ? " 
 
 " I do not go like yourself, incognito," he replied.
 
 THE ARCHIVES OF ORLEANS. 189 
 
 "All may know me as the Sire Robert Des Ar- 
 moises." 
 
 The lady removed her mask, revealing clear blue 
 eyes, and a broad, thoughtful forehead, from which her 
 golden hair was tightly drawn back, and formed into 
 plaited loops behind the ears ; a severe style, then much 
 in vogue, and trying to a face not in the first bloom of 
 youth ; but in this case it served to emphasize the del 
 icate regularity of her features. 
 
 "I am Elizabeth de Goerlitz," she said. 
 
 " Duchess of Luxembourg," said Robert, making a 
 deep reverence. 
 
 "The same," she answered, smiling. "You are 
 thrice welcome to Arlon,- Sire Des Armoises, and 
 you are come at this time by the happiest chance; for 
 no more than an hour ago I would have given my 
 pearl necklace to have had speech with you." 
 
 "Is it possible?" he cried in surprise. 
 
 " I will explain my meaning," she continued. "An 
 informal council was held this evening by Jeanne's 
 friends most devoted to her service, her brother, her 
 confessor, and myself, to advise with her as to the 
 answer she should give to the petition brought by 
 CcBur-de-lis that she should immediately return to 
 Orleans. Since the untoward events of her stay in 
 Cologne, of which you have doubtless heard, she has 
 lost her buoyant spirits, and is oppressed with the
 
 190 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 fear of disaster'. Nothing seems to offer her such 
 peace and security as the seclusion of a convent ; 
 and in spite of all advice she has determined to enter 
 the religious life." 
 
 Robert exclaimed in dismay. 
 
 "When first she was in Arlon, she told me," con 
 tinued the duchess, "that her marriage with Count 
 Ulric was to be one of policy and convenience, dic 
 tated by the urgent insistence of her brothers. She 
 owned that her heart was otherwise engaged, and in 
 answer to my inquiries she revealed your name." 
 
 Des Armoises caught the hand of the duchess and 
 pressed it to his lips. "You give me new life," he 
 cried. 
 
 " You will now comprehend why I wished for your 
 presence to aid me in persuading Jeanne that France 
 and the world cannot consent to surrender their claim 
 upon her." 
 
 "She will listen to me," he cried eagerly; "only 
 contrive that I may have ten words alone with Jeanne, 
 and I will owe you a lifelong gratitude." 
 
 The duchess rose with a smile as she drew a 
 golden bracelet from her arm and flung it upon the 
 seat she. had quitted. 
 
 " I have dropped my bracelet," she said ; " and 
 Jeanne, knowing that I value it as the gift of the 
 duke, will come here at my request to find it."
 
 THE ARCHIVES OF ORLEANS. 191 
 
 Des Armoises left alone in the odorous darkness of 
 the garden which most of the masquers had quitted 
 for the dancing-hall, listened with strained ears to 
 each passing footstep, to the plashing of the foun 
 tain which fell from a Nereid's shell into a marble 
 basin at the end of the box alley, and to the far 
 away sound of the music borne in dying chords upon 
 the breeze. Each moment brought an alternating 
 hope and fear. It was past belief that fortune and 
 chance should so conspire to bless him; yet the 
 thought of disappointment now was not to be en 
 dured. 
 
 At last the footfall for which he waited fell upon 
 his ear, a light hurrying tread, which brought the 
 wearer of a white robe into view among the trees, 
 and led her in some trepidation to the spot where 
 he was seated. 
 
 " Pardon me," she murmured ; " the duchess has 
 lost a bracelet which she thinks you may have noticed 
 if she dropped it here." 
 
 "Yes; here it is, to be had at your own price," 
 he answered ; and breaking into a joyous laugh, he 
 caught her hand, and drew her to his side. " Jeanne, 
 you are mine," he said. " Nevermore shall you 
 escape me." 
 
 At the sound of his voice she gave a stifled scream, 
 attempting to repulse his encircling arm, though
 
 192 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUK- DE-LIS. 
 
 conscious that resistance was in vain, since her heart, 
 beating with tumultuous delight, cried out for sur 
 render. 
 
 " How could the duchess so forget her friendship 
 for me as to delude me so unkindly ? " she exclaimed ; 
 and the darkness hid the smile that was at variance 
 with the words. " What right have I given you, 
 messire, to address me thus ? " 
 
 "You are my future wife," said Des Armoises, 
 "and you are the mistress of my soul. Do not deny 
 the love you once confessed, or struggle against the 
 fate that has made you mine." 
 
 She resisted still, making a last stand for conscience 
 against passion. "I am unworthy of you," she fal 
 tered. 
 
 "You unworthy, Jeanne!" he cried. 
 
 " You do not know all," she said drearily. " You 
 never can know all ; but I must make such confes 
 sion as I may before I give you my promise. After 
 that, it may be you will cast me off." 
 
 "Is there anything you could do that I would not 
 forgive ? " he asked. 
 
 " Perhaps you have heard the story of that dread 
 ful time in Cologne," she said hurriedly, "when the 
 clamor of the people for a miracle suggested to the 
 marshal that they should be contented by the ap 
 pearance of one a juggling trick that Frai^ois had
 
 THE ARCHIVES OF ORLEANS. 193 
 
 taught me. He calls himself a wizard, but he is only 
 a clever juggler made bold by lack of conscience. 
 After that day at Thichiemont, I had determined that 
 nothing should make me false to you. Come what 
 might, I should never marry another." Robert kissed 
 the hand he held. " But when I found that I must 
 pose before the world as one inspired by a heavenly 
 power, when conscious of such bitter degradation, I 
 knew I could not look you in the eyes ; I could not 
 do you such a wrong " here her voice faltered and 
 she burst into tears. 
 
 " Jeanne, Jeanne," cried Robert in distress, " I do 
 not understand. There is more than you have told 
 me. How comes it that you could not defy the mar 
 shal, and refuse to do his bidding? Was not your 
 love for me stronger than your fear of him?" 
 
 " Alas ! I am caught in a net that fate has woven 
 about me," she said. "I cannot explain my fear of 
 the marshal. What he bids me, I must do. I have 
 no power to resist." 
 
 Robert by an effort repressed his anxiety. " All 
 that will be changed when you are my wife," he said 
 cheerfully. " My heart will shield you ; my sword 
 will defend you. You will forget the trials which 
 have weakened your courage. But Orleans shall have 
 no claim upon you. You are henceforth to bless my 
 home, and inspire my life. Is not that a mission
 
 194 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUK-DE-LIS. 
 
 worthy of you, Jeanne? and will you not be content 
 in it?" 
 
 " Do not call me Jeanne," she said, trembling and 
 distressed. " If I refuse the entreaties of Orleans, I 
 do not deserve to bear that name. Call me Claude. 
 It suits me best." 
 
 " Jeanne is the name of my love," said Robert. 
 "But your hands are cold and trembling. Are you 
 not happy, sweet ? " 
 
 " No ; for I still recall that moment when I stood 
 upon a platform before the eyes of all Cologne, and 
 the people applauded the marvel that I worked, and 
 Count Ulric almost knelt in reverence ; and the next 
 day I had to flee to escape arrest by the Inquisition. 
 Can you love an impostor, Robert?" 
 
 She asked the question with an intensity of empha 
 sis that gave a strange shrillness to her voice, and 
 she hung upon the answer as if it was to seal her fate. 
 
 Des Armoises felt a sudden pang; but the sound 
 of his name pronounced for the first time by her lips 
 stirred his heart with tenderness. 
 
 " Some day we will determine, as a question of 
 casuistry, how far you deserve the condemnation of 
 your conscience," he said. "This hour holds for us 
 too rare a joy. We are ungrateful if we trouble its 
 perfection." 
 
 Claude sighed, and remained silent with her hand
 
 THE ARCHIVES OF ORLEANS. 195 
 
 in his ; and as he talked with soothing words of cheer 
 and endearment, a load slipped from her heart. 
 
 " He loves me in spite of everything," she thought. 
 " He would love me as well if he knew the worst ; 
 for he would know that necessity has made me what 
 lam;" and her heart swelled with love and grati 
 tude. 
 
 A distant blast of trumpets announced the conclu 
 sion of the dance. " Let us go in," she said. " The 
 moon is down. It is late." 
 
 They rose ; and Claude, turning towards her lover, 
 flung her arms with an impetuous movement about 
 his neck, while their lips met for the first time in a 
 kiss. 
 
 " I love you, and I will be true to you," she said. 
 " I give you this kiss as a seal of faith." 
 
 In the archives of Orleans the following disburse 
 ments are recorded : 
 
 " On the 9th day of August, 1436 ; Letters carried from Jeanne 
 la Pucelle." (A payment made to the messenger.) 
 
 " To Jean du Lis, brother of Jeanne la Pucelle, Tuesday, 
 August 21st, 1436, 12 livres tournois ; because he came to the 
 Chamber and asked the procureurs to give him money to return 
 to his sister. The king had ordered a hundred francs to be 
 given to him ; they only gave him twenty ; he had spent twelve 
 and had only eight left, which was little to return with, seeing 
 that he was his fifth (day) on horseback."
 
 196 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 Later on, the following record may be seen : 
 
 " To Cceur-de-lis the 28th October, 1436, for a journey that he 
 made for the city of Orleans to the Maid who was at Arlon in 
 the Duchy of Luxembourg, and to carry a letter which he 
 brought from Jehanne la Pucelle to the King at Loches, in which 
 journey he took 41 days, that is to say 34 days in journey for 
 the Pucelle, and 7 days to go to the king. (He set out to go to 
 the Maid Tuesday last day of July, and he returned the 2nd 
 day of September following.)" 
 
 On the next page we read : 
 
 " To Jaquet Leprestre, the 2nd day of Sept. for bread, wine, 
 pears and nuts dispensed in the Chamber of the said city on 
 the coming of the said Coeur-de-lis who brought the said letters 
 from Jehanne la Pucelle, and for giving drink to the said Coeur- 
 de-lis who declared he was very thirsty, for this 2 s. 4 d. p." 
 
 The historic thirst of the messenger, and the festivi 
 ties with which his return was welcomed, are thus 
 recorded; but the clerk of the exchequer could not 
 incorporate in his account-books the amazing intelli 
 gence which the letters contained, the news of the 
 approaching marriage of Jeanne la Pucelle with the 
 Sire Des Armoises, an event which would render it 
 impossible for her to accept the renewed invitations 
 of her good friends of Orleans, whose welfare was 
 ever near her heart, and whose faces she would hope 
 to see when Providence should permit. The letter
 
 THE ARCHIVES OF ORLEANS. 197 
 
 to the king was of similar purport; and both were 
 signed with the well-known autograph which had 
 been the mark of the Maid : 
 
 A stupefaction fell upon the spirits of the people 
 when they learned these tidings ; an incredulous dis 
 may such as they had felt on hearing of the disaster 
 at Compigne. Some denied it, and blamed the 
 Burgundians for starting a lying rumor to the dis 
 credit of the heroine of Orleans. It could not be 
 that Jeanne was free to choose ; it must be by the 
 influence of the enemies of France that she was led 
 to desert its cause and renounce her mission. There 
 were murmurs of treachery and betrayal ; and it was 
 noted that to some of those high in the king's favor 
 the event brought neither surprise nor dissatisfac 
 tion. Charles himself appeared well content that she 
 to whom he owed his kingdom should win no more 
 battles for his cause. He returned no answer to the 
 letters sent from Arlon, though he received Jean du 
 Lis with a vaguely gracious smile, and ordered that 
 he should receive a hundred francs from the royal
 
 198 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 purse, a gift five times better in the promise than 
 the performance. 
 
 The dean of St. Thibaud, to whom we owe the 
 Chronicle of Metz, thus concludes the account of 
 the reappearance of Jeanne the Pucelle, " who called 
 herself Claude :"- 
 
 " And then she came to Arelon, and there was made the 
 marriage of messire Robert des Hermoises, knight, and the said 
 Jehanne the Pucelle ; and then afterwards came the said Siour 
 des Hermoises with his wife the Pucelle to live in Metz, in the 
 house of the said Sire Robert which was before Saincte Segoleine, 
 and there they stayed whilst it pleased them."
 
 LAMIA. 199 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 LAMIA. 
 
 V E METZ had become more than ever the 
 victim of a fixed idea which haunted 
 him waking or sleeping, casting a 
 shadow upon his life, and tinging all 
 his thoughts with bitterness. One au 
 tumn evening he entered the room 
 where his sister sat singing at her needlework, and 
 flinging a book upon the table he drew the candles 
 near and invited her inspection of it. It was a 
 beautifully illuminated folio containing the story of 
 Menippus Lycius of Corinth, who had been ensnared 
 by the love of a Lamia, a serpent sorceress, and 
 who died of despair when Apollonius the philosopher 
 effected his disenchantment. 
 
 Eudeline had been carefully educated; and it was 
 not difficult for her to read the French text, and 
 thereby very readily to understand the Latin context 
 which filled each alternate page. She was interested 
 in the story, which was new to her, and delighted 
 with the illumination, which was in the style of the
 
 200 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 masters of the art; and she was prepared to thank 
 her brother heartily for the gift, when he discon 
 certed her expectations by remarking, "I intend this 
 book as a warning to my unfortunate friend, Robert 
 Des Armoises, who still lives blinded by the fasci 
 nations of the Lamia who has seduced him. It may 
 serve to open his eyes." 
 
 Eudeline blushed, and hesitated for a reply; for 
 though her fancy was free from its early prepos 
 session, she feared her brother's probable misinter 
 pretation of the friendly interest she still took in 
 all that concerned Des Armoises. To conform with 
 the usual practice of romancers, Eudeline should be 
 credited with an undying devotion to her earliest 
 affection ; since it is an established theory that the 
 true woman can love but once ; that loving once she 
 must love ever with an irrational and spaniel-like 
 fidelity. The patient Griseldas of life support this 
 theory; but the maiden's heart bestows its homage 
 obeying a law as instinctive as that which draws 
 the flower to the sunshine and the bee to the flower. 
 Nature too often is party to a conspiracy whereby 
 this impulse tends to results which may be more 
 fitly compared to the encounter of the fly with the 
 cobweb, or the dancing gnat with the sundew's trap. 
 
 Eudeline had escaped heart-whole ; but she felt an 
 active good-will for Des Armoises which urged her
 
 LAMIA. 201 
 
 to interpose herself between him and her brother's 
 threat. 
 
 "What good can you do by opening his eyes, 
 brother, if thereby you end all his joy ? " she asked. 
 
 Jean gave his sister a look which deprecated the 
 weakness that could plead for the joy of a delu 
 sion in a world of stern realities ; and he began to 
 wrap the slim leather-covered volume in tissue paper, 
 tying it carefully with a ribbon, as he said, " I mean 
 this as a present to the bride. Des Armoises entertains 
 his friends to-night as Lycius did those of Corinth ; 
 and I perhaps can play the part of Apollonius, and 
 expose the impostor in the midst of her success." 
 
 "I can scarce believe her to be an impostor," 
 answered Eudeline, " she has so fair a face ; and 
 as for sorcery, I saw her in the church, where she 
 dipped her fingers in holy water and made the sign 
 of the cross." 
 
 " She appeared to you to do so," replied De Metz ; 
 " she casts a glamour on the senses. With Des 
 Armoises it is as if a circle were traced about his 
 path, and within it all appears by the light of en 
 chantment, and he can see nothing as it is, and 
 judge nothing reasonably ; but he sees and reasons 
 as she wills who has seduced him." 
 
 " It is a strange thing if that be true," said Eude 
 line ; " I wish you would not meddle with it, brother."
 
 202 THE SHIELD OP THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 "I must do my duty," answered Jean with the 
 exultant tone of a self-devoted martyr to a cause 
 worthy of the last sacrifice. 
 
 Eudeline when left alone resumed her needlework, 
 but not her song. With laborious care she drew the 
 crimson silk back and forth to outline a gaping 
 wound in the side of the hero of Roncesvalles, but 
 it was not the thought of Roland's fate that clouded 
 her brow. 
 
 With the closing in of the autumn night a heavy 
 fog had settled over the city, obliterating the dis 
 tance, and distorting the outlines of familiar shapes. 
 An occasional lantern, hung beside a doorway, served 
 to light a limited space, beyond which the darkness 
 was deeper in contrast. Few passengers were abroad; 
 and De Metz, as he hurried on his way, noticed in 
 spite of his abstraction the forms and faces of two 
 men, whom he overtook and passed in the lighted 
 space before the porch of Sainte Seglenne. They 
 followed him across the narrow street, and before 
 the porter could answer his summons for admittance 
 at the opposite house, they were close behind him ; 
 and the light of a blazing torch of pitch and resin, 
 which was set in a stone receptacle behind the grilled 
 door of the small inner courtyard, fell full upon their 
 faces, revealing Frangois, the priest, and David, the 
 minstrel, whose visit to Domre'my, De Metz dis-
 
 LAMIA. 203 
 
 tinctly remembered. The minstrel, as usual, adver 
 tised his calling by the guitar which he wore slung 
 over his shoulder ; but the singular priest, defying 
 custom and precedent, had discarded his gown and 
 cowl for the rich garments and plumed hat of a 
 man of fashion. De Metz had first seen him in the 
 costume of a halberdier; but the strongly marked 
 features, swarthy skin, and glittering, deep-set eyes, 
 had impressed themselves upon his memory; and the 
 foreign accent with which he spoke helped to com 
 plete the identification. 
 
 " Well met, gentlemen," said De Metz, obeying a 
 sudden impulse of curiosity; "how fares your master, 
 the noble Marshal de Retz, since last we met in 
 Domre'my ? " 
 
 "What impertinent chatterer have we here who 
 claims acquaintance on the chance of year-long re 
 membrance ? " exclaimed Francois with a scrutinizing 
 glance. 
 
 "I am Jean de Novelonpont," was the reply. "The 
 marshal knows me well." 
 
 "Then I will bear him your greetings," responded 
 Frangois flippantly. "He will be glad to hear of your 
 estate. As for himself, he is well and prosperous. 
 The king has lately made him a count." 
 
 " Are you not also called Jean de Metz ? " in 
 quired David.
 
 204 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 "Ah, by that title I remember you," said Fran- 
 9013. " You are an early friend of the Pucelle. Let 
 us not detain you. No doubt the banquet waits for 
 your tardy arrival." 
 
 "I am no friend of Jeanne Des Armoises," an 
 swered De Metz; then fearing that he had betrayed 
 too much, he entered at the porter's invitation, and 
 ascended the stairs in advance of his companions, 
 who lingered on the threshold. 
 
 " I will accept your advice, David," said Fran9ois, 
 in a low voice. " You can best do our errand alone ; 
 since Jeanne counts you a friend, while she hates me 
 as she hates the devil. Contrive to give her the 
 letter at once, assure her of its pressing importance, 
 and bring me her answer at the earliest possible 
 moment. I will wait for you in the church yonder. 
 My devotions are long in arrears." 
 
 Des Armoises and his bride sat side by side at the 
 head of the table, which was filled with a merry 
 company of guests assembled to do them honor. 
 Claude's face was glorified by the light of an inward 
 joy, and Des Armoises wore the beatific expres 
 sion of the happy bridegroom, for whom the universe 
 exists only as affording place and occasion for the 
 perfections of his beloved. 
 
 The entrance of the two late comers occasioned 
 a stir among the guests. De Metz was greeted by
 
 LAMIA. 205 
 
 those who knew him; and Robert, with pleased con 
 fusion, welcomed his friend, and presented him to 
 his wife, who had only a wandering attention to be 
 stow upon him, since the minstrel engrossed her eyes 
 and thoughts. " David, dear David ! " she cried, ris 
 ing to give him both her hands, while a burst of 
 applause from the ladies greeted the sight of his 
 be-ribboned guitar. 
 
 " Now we shall have some chansons and rondels," 
 said the Lady of Villette. " There is nothing I love 
 so well. The horns that have blown so sweetly in 
 the farther room while we have been eating and 
 drinking, have made us feast like princes ; but noth 
 ing so carries me to the seventh heaven of delight, 
 as a love-song sung to a guitar in my ear." 
 
 " No one can sing so well as David," said Claude, 
 smiling at the minstrel, who, after kissing her hands 
 respectfully, had taken his place on a cushion at her side. 
 
 "It is a friendly thing in you to come unasked, 
 De Metz," said Des Armoises in a low voice. "Only 
 my doubt of your willingness to accept left you un 
 bidden." 
 
 " I have brought my present to the bride," an 
 swered De Metz, laying the volume open upon the 
 table as he spoke. " This book contains the story 
 of the Lamia, the serpent sorceress, who seduced 
 young Lycius of Corinth to his ruin."
 
 206 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 Des Armoises regarded the speaker keenly as he 
 replied ; " For all that is friendly in your intention, 
 I thank you. Take a seat here, and do us the honor 
 to eat and drink with us." 
 
 The book at which Claude had hardly cast a glance 
 was being handed about among the guests, who ex 
 pressed their admiration of the valuable gift, uncon 
 scious that it hid a sinister intention. The Lady 
 Des Armoises was absorbed in a murmured conver 
 sation with the minstrel, to whom she inclined her 
 lovely head in the effort to catch his whispered 
 sentences, rendered inaudible to any other by the 
 fragments of brilliant melodies which his fingers drew 
 forth in quick succession from his instrument. De 
 Metz was not disconcerted by the bride's averted 
 attention, or her husband's alert resentment. "It 
 would add to your enjoyment if this pretty story 
 could be read aloud," he said, looking about him. "It 
 is a tale of enchantment which is as true as his 
 tory itself." 
 
 " Oh, let us hear it ! " cried the Lady of Villette. 
 " There is something charming in the recital of marrow- 
 chilling wonders. But who can read it? There is 
 not a priest or a clerk among us. We are all worldly 
 and ignorant folk, who think we do well to sign 
 our names." 
 
 " You forget that our host is as learned as a
 
 LAMIA. 207 
 
 priest," said Villette. "He will read it to us, no 
 doubt." 
 
 Des Armoises, being appealed to by his guests, found 
 it impossible to refuse the request, though he was 
 uneasily distrustful of De Metz's intention, and un 
 willing to lend himself to a scheme of his devising. 
 Knowing his friend's persistent delusion, he guessed 
 the significance which he meant should attach to the 
 story ; but Robert reflected that to resent so monstrous 
 an insinuation was to give it greater credit than it 
 deserved ; and since he alone could suspect it, no 
 harm could be done by ignoring it. With affected 
 unconcern, therefore, he took up the manuscript, and 
 read the story from beginning to end; during which, 
 De Metz, in imitation of the Pythagorean philos 
 opher, kept his unfriendly gaze upon the face of the 
 bride, smiling to note that she was listening with an 
 alarmed attention, and that she paled and trembled 
 beneath his look. The minstrel's low music accom 
 panied the reading, while, unobserved himself, he 
 regarded De Metz with the alertness of a panther 
 that crouches for a spring. Amid the murmur of 
 applause that followed the conclusion of the story, 
 De Metz arose with an air of prophetic denunciation, 
 while he raised a warning hand ; but before the words 
 that trembled on his lips had time to form themselves 
 in sound, a clanging chord sounded in his ear.
 
 208 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUH-DE-LIS. 
 
 " Listen now to the interpretation of the history 
 which you have heard," cried David, springing to 
 his feet, and challenging the attention of the com 
 pany, while he won their good-will by a merry smile. 
 " The truth of it is that of each man's experience. 
 Time is the disenchanting sage before whose gaze 
 beauty fades and love grows cold. He steals the 
 roses from the lips and cheeks, and plants there the 
 ashen hues of age. He dims the eyes, furrows the 
 brow, and robs joy of its illusions one by one. What 
 can be done to resist this fell destroyer? Defy his 
 power ; enjoy your youth while you may ; quaff the 
 cup of delight to the dregs ; drink, sing, and make 
 merry, while the eyes of love are upon you ; to which 
 nothing is so potent an aid as the power of melody, 
 no one so much your friend as the minstrel who 
 helps you to forget the morrow. Listen to my song." 
 
 In a mellow voice he began a light Proven gal 
 ditty in praise of ladies' smiles. In the midst of 
 the laughter and merriment which sounded as an 
 echo to the music, De Metz remained in disconcerted 
 silence, conscious that he had lost the fitting oppor 
 tunity without which his purpose would fail of success. 
 At this moment the band of musicians placed in an 
 adjoining room began to play one of the mad Lorraine 
 waltzes, and the ladies rising from the table entered 
 upon the dance with the abandon of peasants who
 
 LAMIA. 209 
 
 trace the whirling mazes on their village green. Des 
 Armoises, taking De Metz by the arm, drew him to 
 a distance, while he said in low, emphatic tones, 
 
 " For your unfriendly meaning in your gift and pres 
 ence here, I shall, when occasion offers, demand satis 
 faction. I have borne much from you for the sake of 
 our former friendship ; but remember that he who at 
 tacks the credit of my wife by so much as a thought, 
 if I have knowledge of it, must answer to me sword 
 to sword for his base presumption." 
 
 "As you please," said De Metz composedly. "My 
 quarrel is not with you, but with that false Lamia who 
 has ensnared you." 
 
 Des Armoises pointed imperiously to the door. " Go, 
 before I forget my duty as a host," he said. " If I did 
 not pity you as a madman, I should be less charitable 
 to your insolent ravings." 
 
 David and Claude meantime were continuing the 
 subject of their whispered conversation, as they stood 
 in a curtained alcove, screened from the observation of 
 the merry dancers. 
 
 " If I do not take Francois your promise to pay the 
 money this letter demands, he threatens to betray your 
 secret; that is true," said David. "But consider that 
 in this he means to work upon your fears. Suppose 
 you should defy him, tear up the letter, and flatly re 
 fuse him, what would be the result? To fulfil his
 
 210 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 threat would mean above all else ruin to the marshal, 
 to whose service he is devoted body and soul. I hold 
 it for certain, therefore, that if you resist, he will be 
 powerless. Moreover, by an appeal to the marshal you 
 will discover that he has no knowledge of this letter 
 written in his name ; and his vengeance will fall upon 
 Francois for presuming to interfere with his plans, 
 which include no condition so absolute as that of main 
 taining your credit. The advantage of the position is 
 with you. Courage and resolution are all you need to 
 make yourself secure of it." 
 
 "I thank you for your goodness, David, from the 
 heart," said Claude. "But, alas, I have no courage to 
 resist. FranQois is in league with the devil. He will 
 find means to fulfil his threat without endangering the 
 marshal. Trust him for that. Oh, David, he will de 
 stroy me ! Save me from him. You are my only 
 hope." 
 
 The minstrel stood in deep reflection. " There is 
 only one way," he murmured, looking up with shining 
 eyes. 
 
 "Are you not inclined to be jealous of that gray- 
 haired troubadour, Sire Des Armoises ? " the Lady of 
 Villette asked her host. " Since his coming, your wife 
 has had thoughts for no one else. These musicians are 
 wolves in sheep's clothing; they can steal a woman's 
 heart with a song ; and he has eyes that would en-
 
 LAMIA. 211 
 
 danger the discretion of Minerva, if he were as young 
 as they speak him." 
 
 Des Armoises had tolerance for the folly of woman's 
 chatter; but the thought of De Metz's active malevo 
 lence clouded his spirits, and made it difficult for him 
 to appear at ease. With the departure of the minstrel, 
 Claude's gayety had given place to a reserved preoccu 
 pation, which insensibly communicated its influence to 
 the mood of the assembly. It was in vain that the 
 horns brayed with shrill persistence : the dancers soon 
 grew weary ; and at an early hour the guests dispersed, 
 guided by servants with lanterns and torches through 
 the dark and tortuous streets. Des Armoises stood to 
 light the last departure over the worn stone steps, 
 which the feet of his ancestors had marked with the 
 comings and goings of a hundred years, when a rising 
 noise of voices and footsteps attracted his attention to 
 a crowd which had suddenly gathered under the outer 
 walls of Sainte Seglenne, where a narrow alley formed 
 a deep channel of shade between the eastern side of the 
 church and the projecting irregular fronts of the oppo 
 site houses. 
 
 " A murder has been done in the street," said a pas 
 ser-by ; and at the same moment Robert felt his wife's 
 hand upon his arm. " A murder, good God ! " she ex 
 claimed ; " and is the murderer known ? " 
 
 Receiving no reply, she drew her mantle over her
 
 212 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 head, and hastened across the street amid the crowd 
 that had quickly gathered, urged by that impelling 
 desire for sensation which is like the scent of the 
 quarry to the pack in chase. Robert, as in duty 
 bound, followed close at her side, his strong arm and 
 broad shoulders aiding her to reach the foremost 
 rank of spectators, who stood about a torch-lit space 
 where the injured man was stretched unconscious 
 upon the ground. A surgeon who knelt beside him 
 with his fingers at the wrist had just opened his lips 
 to pronounce authoritative sentence. " He lives. I 
 can feel the pulse," he said. " With care, there is 
 one chance in a hundred that he may recover." 
 
 "In which case," said a magistrate, who had been 
 summoned by news of the crime from a snug seat 
 in a neighboring wine-shop, "there is a chance that 
 the truth of the matter may be discovered, as it 
 cannot be by the testimony of one witness who may 
 be interested to conceal rather than to reveal it." 
 
 His pompous utterance was cut short by a shriek 
 of dismay. The Lady Des Armoises had flung her 
 self upon her knees beside the prostrate figure. 
 " David, David," she cried, to ears that were deaf 
 to her voice. 
 
 " It is, indeed, the minstrel who but lately left 
 my house," exclaimed Des Armoises. " How did it 
 chance ? Who was his assailant ? "
 
 LAMIA. 213 
 
 " This fellow here tells a strange story, to conceal, 
 perhaps, his own share in the matter," answered the 
 justice, frowning with judicial severity upon a man 
 who stood in the background, in the close neighbor 
 hood of an armed soldier, who seemed to regard him 
 more as a prisoner than as a witness. " He acknowl 
 edges that he was also in your house, which he left 
 in advance of the minstrel, and that he stood in the 
 church porch until, the latter appeared, for no reason 
 that he can give." 
 
 "Jean de Novelonpont," cried Robert, in surprised 
 recognition. 
 
 "It happened as I have told you," said De Metz 
 hurriedly. " I met the two men in the street, and 
 recognized them as servants of the Marshal de Retz. 
 One entered the house, and the other waited with 
 out; and having some curiosity as to their errand, I 
 stood to watch their meeting. The minstrel came 
 singing from the doorway; and they moved across 
 the street, and passed me in amicable conversation, 
 though they spoke too softly to be overheard. When 
 they entered upon this alley the minstrel fell back 
 a step or two, as if to adjust the ribbon of his guitar, 
 which he removed from about his throat. The next 
 instant he sprang forward and stabbed ,the Italian in 
 the back with as neat a stroke as ever I saw de 
 livered, and with power enough in the blow to have
 
 214 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 * 
 
 sent any man that was mortal into eternity; but, by 
 some strange chance, the Italian escaped unhurt, and 
 turned with a cry of rage upon the minstrel, who 
 lost his footing, and fell with the other's hands upon 
 his throat, choking the life out. His grip was like 
 that of a vise, and did not relax when I was close 
 upon him, and dragging him by the shoulder, as one 
 might try to pull a deerhound from his prey. It 
 was only when life seemed extinct in his victim 
 that he rose and closed upon me, with such sudden 
 fury of attack that I lost ground, gave way, and 
 suffered him to escape before the coming of the 
 guard whom my cries had summoned." 
 
 " You may believe this story," said the Lady Des 
 Armoises, lifting a stricken face, while with a caress 
 ing touch she chafed the limp hand she held ; " this 
 Francois is a fiend of malice, and has sold himself 
 to the devil, through whose power, no doubt, he es 
 caped unhurt. I know him well, and could detect 
 him in any of his various disguises, priest or wizard, 
 soldier or clerk. You must bring him to judgment 
 for this crime, if there is justice in the city of 
 Metz." 
 
 "You forget, noble Jeanne," said the magistrate 
 respectfully, " that, according to this story, if we are 
 to credit it, the Italian acted only in self-defense ; 
 and that the real criminal lies here, soon to be past
 
 LAMIA. 215 
 
 earthly justice, but suffering only the just penalty 
 of his deeds." 
 
 " David a criminal ! " exclaimed Claude indignantly. 
 " A kinder heart never beat ; " then she cast an ap 
 pealing glance at her husband, and added, "our 
 house is open to him; is it not, Robert? There is 
 a chance, they say, of his recovery." 
 
 "I have the first claim to show the charity of the 
 good Samaritan," interposed De Metz. " I have already 
 made the offer to receive him, feeling it upon my con 
 science that my rescue availed so little. My sister is 
 a gentle nurse, and I have an aged aunt who is won 
 derfully skilled in simples and unguents. Let him 
 be carried to my house at once. It is within easy 
 distance." 
 
 " It may be well to accept this offer," said Des 
 Armoises to the magistrate ; " I can answer for the 
 care he will receive with my friends." 
 
 " I owe him more than I can pay," said Claude. " I 
 cannot give him up." 
 
 "My house is always open to you, madam," said 
 De Metz. " My sister already loves you, and will feel 
 her task lightened if you will condescend to share it 
 with her." 
 
 Claude fixed a thoughtful gaze upon him. " Your 
 sister has a face like an angel," she said. " I will trust 
 her as I would not another. But the task, I fear, will
 
 216 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 not be a long one ; " and she turned aside to hide her 
 tears. 
 
 The interest which the famous Pucelle manifested 
 in this affray and its victim lifted it out of the category 
 of ordinary street brawls into an importance which made 
 the magistrate hesitate to commit himself too hastily to 
 a course which might have far-reaching consequences. 
 The name of the Marshal de Retz was sufficient to im 
 pose deliberation upon any action which was likely to 
 concern his interests ; and time, the justice reflected, 
 was likely to prove a valuable coadjutor in this case, by 
 removing the principal offender to the bar of a higher 
 judgment, and allowing the escape of the other, of 
 whom the city was well rid, if in truth he were a wiz 
 ard, one of a class whom the justice of Metz, following 
 the example of the Constable of France, had long held in 
 particular abhorrence. It seemed expedient, therefore, 
 to postpone any active measures looking to the pursuit 
 and arrest of the Italian ; and the crowd dispersed as 
 rapidly as it had gathered, disappointed by the tameness 
 of the event. 
 
 Later, in the course of the same night, the state bed 
 in Jean Gugnot's spare chamber at Marville received as 
 occupant a man who flung himself exhausted beneath 
 its glittering coverlet after removing torn and mud- 
 stained garments, and stripping from the upper part of 
 his body a corselet of Milan mail formed of fine links
 
 LAMIA. 217 
 
 of steel of exquisite pliability and strength of texture. 
 " The prudent man can laugh at fate," he said to him 
 self, smiling ; " and sagacity is so rare a quality that it 
 is accounted sorcery."
 
 218 
 
 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUlt-DE-LIS. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A DEED OF SALE. 
 
 'ONTRASTED with the melancholy 
 night without, the warmth and bright 
 ness of their hearth -fire welcomed 
 Claude and Robert with grateful cheer. 
 The polished oaken rafters, the cornices 
 and wainscoting, and the fluted pilasters of the mantle- 
 piece, gave back dancing reflections which pervaded 
 the room with the gayety of multiplied sources of 
 light, including the rounded surfaces of some ancient 
 suits of armor set up about the hall in empty sem 
 blance of the departed knights who had worn them. 
 Upon the wall hung the weapons they had used, 
 sword, spear, and battle-axe, each with its history of 
 blood. Here was a Damascus blade which Lord Raoul 
 had wrested from a Saracen whose head he straightway 
 smote from the shoulders ; there was the dented sword 
 with which Lord Charles, then a youth, had spilled 
 much Flemish blood in the charge under Clisson's 
 command at Rosbecque. 
 
 " Thank God for the peace of solitude," exclaimed
 
 A DEED OF SALE. 219 
 
 Robert, flinging himself upon the settle at his wife's 
 side, where she had seated herself in front of the 
 hearth, shivering and holding out her hands to the 
 blaze. " Why was I so mad as to invite the invasion 
 of our happiness by a chattering crowd who can add 
 nothing to our contentment, and who bring in their 
 train only confusion and disaster. I intend now to 
 carry you off to Thichiemont, order the drawbridge 
 raised, and a guard at outlook to shoot down a new 
 comer without question or quarter." 
 
 "Nothing would please me better," replied Claude 
 in a tremulous voice, " unless it were to go with you 
 to some distant land where no sound of a familiar 
 voice could reach us." 
 
 " You are unnerved by this night's sad event," 
 said Robert sympathetically. "It was for your sake 
 as well as my own that I refused your request to 
 give shelter to the unfortunate minstrel; for I feel 
 that we should defend our happiness, while we may, 
 from a cloud." 
 
 " This wicked Frangois brings trouble wherever he 
 goes. Here is the letter which he brought me from 
 the marshal. You must read it." 
 
 " You said that David brought the letter." 
 
 " Yes, he had it from Frangois to deliver ; and it 
 was doubtless in regard to this that the quarrel arose ; 
 so that in reality David gave his life for my sake."
 
 220 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 " I do not comprehend that, for David was the first 
 aggressor." 
 
 " The actual truth can never be known," said Claude 
 in an agitated voice ; " read the letter which I warn 
 you will not please you." 
 
 " To the noble lady Jeanne Des Armoises, respectful greeting from 
 her former companion in arms, the Marshal de Retz : 
 " I entreat of you for the love you bear France to send me at 
 once upon receipt of this, the sum of a thousand crowns, with 
 which I mean to equip a company for the king's service in 
 Poitou. Since you will not come in person to the war, you can 
 do no less than give the aid I ask to subsidize a troop which 
 shall be called by the name of the Pucelle, and fight under her 
 banner, and thus bring to our cause the spirit which led to 
 victory at Orleans and Troyes. Lacking any sign from you, the 
 people murmur that you have forsaken them. Do not deny me. 
 Remember your vow." 
 
 The letter ended with formal assurances of respect, 
 and was signed with the name of Gilles de Laval. 
 
 Robert mechanically repeated the last words. " Your 
 vow, what is that? " he asked. 
 
 " To live unmarried, and devote myself to the cause 
 of France," she said. 
 
 "And your sweet perfidy must cost me a thousand 
 crowns," replied Robert. " So be it. To-morrow we 
 will ride to Haraucourt, and conclude a sale of lands 
 to which I have long been urged, but never would give
 
 A DEED OF SALE. 221 
 
 consent, since I was unwilling to mulct my heirs of 
 acres long descended in our line from father to son. 
 Collard de Failly, a rich squire of bourgeois extrac 
 tion, has long cast covetous eyes upon that quarter 
 of Haraucourt which adjoins his estate. He has sued 
 in vain to me, as to my father, for the chance to pur 
 chase it. My change of tone will please him well." 
 
 Claude flung her arms about her husband's neck, and 
 wept upon his bosom in the reaction of relief from the 
 tension of her fears ; but the consciousness of the lie 
 which she had perfunctorily spoken in answer to his 
 question, and the thought of the double deceit which 
 had won from him such generous consent, gave bitter 
 ness to her tears. 
 
 She did not know all that it cost Robert to relin 
 quish a purpose so dear to him as the improvement of 
 his inheritance for the sake of those who should come 
 after him, and also of those who held their lands at 
 his pleasure, and whose welfare was contingent upon 
 his decision. She was not aware that her husband 
 lay sleepless at her side until daybreak, debating the 
 question how he could best fulfil his promise to her, 
 and at the same time protect the interests of his feudal 
 tenants. 
 
 History keeps no record in its time-worn archives 
 of the blood and tears, the heart-throbs, crimes, treach 
 eries, and stratagems, which have indirectly contrib-
 
 222 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUK-DE-LIS. 
 
 uted to the results which it notes down, and lays 
 aside for the perusal of future generations, who, if 
 they have illumined eyes, may read between the lines 
 words of prophetic adjuration which can move the 
 dry bones of dead facts to conscious life. 
 
 A yellow manuscript still preserves the record of a 
 sale of a portion of the land of Haraucourt in these 
 words : 
 
 " We, Robert des Harmoises, knight, lord of Thichiemont, and 
 Jeanne du Lys, the Pucelle of France, lady of the said Thichie 
 mont, my wife, licensed and authorized by me, Robert above 
 named, to agree and accord in all that follows, make known to 
 all to whom these presents may come that we conjointly together 
 and with a common consent and each of us by himself and for 
 both, have sold, ceded, and transported to the honorable person, 
 Collard de Failly, squire, living at Marville, and to Poinsette, his 
 wife, the fourth part that we have and may have ... in all the 
 town, limits and confines of Haraucourt," etc. 
 
 " Witnessed by our dear and great friend, Jeande Thoneletil, 
 Lord of Villette, and Saubelet de Dun, Provost of Marville, who 
 certify that it was made and done in the year of grace 1436, in 
 November, 7th day." 
 
 After the conclusion of the sale which had kept 
 them a week at Marville, Des Armoises and his 
 wife made a pilgrimage to Thichiemont, which, in 
 the chill November weather, was a dreary solitude 
 of dun meadows, lowering skies, and frozen wastes,
 
 A DEED OF SALE. 223 
 
 
 
 traversed only by the wild marsh fowl and their 
 kindred of the woods. 
 
 The creatures of the wilderness had nothing now 
 to fear from old Nicole, whose advancing infirmities 
 kept him within doors in a state of perpetual revolt 
 against his destiny and the conditions of the universe, 
 which made him less than ever an agreeable compan 
 ion. 
 
 What had been a mere humorous suggestion now 
 seemed to Des Armoises a delightfully feasible scheme ; 
 and, with Claude's willing consent, the stay at Thichie- 
 mont lengthened into a winter's sojourn. Storms, 
 snow, and ice kept the two as landlocked prisoners 
 in the gray old tower, whose mighty walls resisted the 
 northern blast, and whose vaulted rooms, chilly in 
 the summer time, afforded a snug shelter when the 
 fires roared in the chimneys, heavy tapestries were 
 drawn over the narrow windows, and thick carpets 
 covered the floors. 
 
 Although Nicole secretly rejoiced that Thichiemont, 
 after years of alienation, should serve once more as 
 home to the family whose earliest domain it had 
 been, the habit of the grumbler would not permit 
 him to accept the situation without criticism. Being 
 the stiffest of conservatives, it seemed to him an 
 unpardonable innovation that the lord and lady of 
 Thichiemont should thus immure themselves, content
 
 224 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 with the service of a few domestics, and no society 
 but their own. 
 
 " It is a thing unheard-of," he said to Andrd Gosson, 
 who had braved the weather, under the spur of a con 
 suming curiosity to learn the truth of the affairs at 
 Thichiemont. " No man iri his senses would act as 
 he does. To my mind it is as plain as a pikestaff 
 that he is unde'r the power of enchantment. They 
 say that she was twice accused of witchcraft, and 
 only escaped the flames at Rouen by the arts of magic. 
 I have no doubt, that, on some of these dark nights, 
 she may leave my lord sleeping while she takes the 
 form of a wolf to roam in the forest. Yesterday at 
 midnight I heard one howl in most unearthly fashion, 
 and my blood ran chill at the sound." 
 
 " I have heard it said that she deals in black magic, 
 arid has stolen the shape of the Maid of Orleans to 
 seduce my lord's affection," replied Gosson ; " but this 
 I find it hard to credit. Still less can I believe her 
 to be a were-wolf. She has a winning smile, and, 
 to my mind, appears to be a good woman." 
 
 "Trust no woman for appearance's sake," responded 
 Nicole. " They are all arch-traitors where men are 
 concerned." 
 
 " But what particular charges can you make against 
 her ? " asked Gosson. 
 
 " Look at the dreariness of Thichiemont at this
 
 A DEED OF SALE. 225 
 
 season," replied Nicole. " Consider the emptiness of 
 our larder since the roads are impassable, the servants 
 indolent, and I unable to leave the house. Then note 
 that my lord and lady are like two children out on 
 a holiday. They laugh and chatter from morning 
 to night, when there is little enough cause for merri 
 ment. At other times they will sit in the same 
 chair and read from a book, or he will read and she 
 will listen; and, though so dull and meaningless is 
 the tale that one page of it would set me to sleep 
 like an opium draught, they will spend hours on it. 
 Then they will have games of hide-and-seek, with 
 kisses for forfeits ; and a surfeit of such fines they 
 must have, and brazen they are in bestowing them 
 before my very eyes. 
 
 "Now tell me, Gosson, as a man who has seen the 
 world, did you ever know a young gallant with a 
 face and form so attractive to women to sit content 
 in a chimney-corner with a wife six months after 
 marriage, having no thoughts for any one else, or 
 any wish to leave her side? But, if you will listen 
 to stories of enchantment, you will find his case not 
 an uncommon one in knights who are bewitched by 
 a sorceress like Melusina, and kept weeks and months 
 with her in some grotto or desert island." 
 
 Gosson reflected with his head on one side, while 
 he held a glass of wine up to the light to catch the
 
 226 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 sunbeams like a garnet gem. "Love is a thing that 
 lasts longer in some cases than others," he said. " Six 
 months of kisses when I was young could not tire out 
 my liking for them." 
 
 " I never knew a wedded couple that lived without 
 a quarrel so long as that," muttered Nicole, deter 
 mined to have the last word. 
 * 
 
 With the spring sunshine, which grew daily warmer 
 as the hours of light invaded the period of darkness, 
 the melting snow and ice caused troublesome freshets 
 in the neighborhood of Thichiemont. The race-course 
 by the mill was full of floating ice-cakes, which threat 
 ened the safety of the ancient construction where the 
 farmers ~of the district for years had ground their 
 wheat and barley. The peasants turned out to the 
 assistance of the miller and his men. Some of the 
 wretched thatched cottages on the lower banks of 
 the stream were already under water ; and their inhab 
 itants had abandoned their miserable possessions to 
 the mercy of the waves, taking refuge upon a hill 
 near by, from which they viewed the scene of destruc 
 tion with the composure of fatalists trained in the 
 expectation of calamity as the rule of life. 
 
 Among the men who stood knee-deep in the flood 
 which covered the meadows, directing the work of 
 rescue in the cow-sheds and poultry yards of the
 
 A DEED OF SALE. 227 
 
 more prosperous cultivators, the peasants recognized 
 the Lord of Thichiemont. 
 
 "'Tis a good man," said a woman who sat upon a 
 rock with a child at her breast, and three half-naked 
 youngsters clinging to her skirts. " See him yonder 
 with a chicken-coop under his arm, and a kid flung 
 over his shoulder." 
 
 "Aye, he will save the animals of those who have 
 them to pay rent with," answered her husband with 
 a harsh laugh. " Our bits of duds may go at the 
 devil's will, and no word said." 
 
 " They're not worth the counting," replied the wife. 
 " There goes the baby's cradle you hollowed from a log." 
 
 " Logs are plenty, and so are babies, God help us," 
 said her sister-in-law, who sat rocking herself back and 
 forth in bodily pain and mental anguish. 
 
 A servant wearing the badge of the family at the 
 Tower approached the group with a supercilious air, 
 as if reluctant to deliver his message. "My lord 
 says that those who are left homeless are to take 
 refuge at Thichiemont lodge, and that the wife of 
 Louis the swineherd is to have a bed in my lady's 
 suite of rooms, and to be attended in her need by 
 the midwife from Marville, who has been bespoken 
 for my lady for the coming month." 
 
 " God in heaven ! " cried the woman, bursting into 
 tears.
 
 228 THE SHIELD OP THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 " Aye, 'tis a good man ! " exclaimed her brother-in- 
 law with an oath. " May my tongue be shrivelled to 
 the roots if ever I allow the contrary." 
 
 The floods subsided, and green things grew among 
 the wreckage and ooze that marked their devastating 
 course. Trees began to bourgeon in evidence of the 
 abounding life that stirred within. The promise of 
 an endlessly recurring hope, the triumph of joy over 
 sorrow, this was the assurance of every expanding 
 blossom and every bursting cocoon. 
 
 Robert walked forth at sunset with his eyes filled 
 with joyful tears which blurred the radiant horizon 
 into an image as vague as the vast but undefined 
 delight which flooded his soul. 
 
 " The lady of Thichiemont has presented my lord 
 with a fine pair of twin sons," Nicole announced to 
 the assembled villagers ; and a hoarse shout greeted 
 the joyful tidings, which being carried to Haraucourt 
 by a messenger set all the bells ringing, and the chap 
 lain to intoning a service of thanksgiving. Gifts were 
 distributed among the tenantry of both estates, and 
 open-air feasts were spread where all might drink 
 the health of the young heirs and their mother. So 
 promising an event had not been so happily cele 
 brated within the memory of the oldest tenant.
 
 THE SWOKD OF DAMOCLES. 
 
 229 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES. 
 
 ECURE in the retirement of forest- 
 bound Thichiemont, and defended by 
 the mystic halo of motherhood, Claude 
 allowed the summer days to pass with 
 out a care. The haunting shadow of 
 her destiny was left behind in Metz, 
 and she had no mind to revive its power by anticipa 
 tion or recollection. The money procured from the 
 sale of the hinds of Haraucourt had been forwarded 
 to the address of the Marshal de Retz, through the 
 agency of Jean Gugnot, the silversmith and money 
 lender of Marville. At the same time had come the 
 intelligence of David's death. He had lingered a few 
 days, recovering a temporary vitality like the last 
 flicker of the candle in its socket, and then the breath 
 of life had suddenly gone out. With these events 
 that chapter in her life had closed, she hoped, forever. 
 Father Ambrose, who had lived in retirement since 
 Claude's marriage, had come at her request to offi 
 ciate at the christening of her children. In her inter-
 
 230 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 course with him, she could maintain the absolute 
 sincerity which was so great a relief to her conscience, 
 burdened by the subterfuge and diplomacy she had 
 to practice with others. In Ambrose's presence, to 
 be sure, a cloud was cast upon the sunniest day ; 
 for his intense consciousness of right and wrong would 
 not permit her to forget the sin they shared, though 
 with the arguments of skilful casuistry he main 
 tained that the only real guilt, that of choice, was 
 his, while she was the unhappy victim of necessity ; 
 and upon her, in this character, he poured the sweet 
 est balm of charitable consolation. 
 
 The priest had developed into a fuller and more 
 genial nature than that of the hermit of the past. 
 The life of expiatory penance which he had proposed 
 to himself as an atonement for another's sin had 
 brought with it a more evident reward than when 
 such sacrifices had been made for self alone. The 
 warmth of a human affection, purified as it was from 
 all leaven of self-seeking, drew him beyond the bar 
 ren sphere of an egotistic isolation, and gave form 
 and purpose to the vague aspirations of his soul. 
 
 Before he left Thichiemont, where his stay was 
 brief, he surprised Claude by declaring a resolution 
 lately determined upon, but long in contemplation. 
 
 " I mean to leave my selfish solitude, daughter," 
 he said, " to enter upon the work of priest in a
 
 THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES. 231 
 
 large city, where poverty, ignorance, and vice stretch 
 out appealing hands for aid. I have sought and ob 
 tained the place of assistant priest in the church of 
 St. Seglenne in Metz. Here I shall have you and 
 your children under my care ; and the children of 
 the poor shall be mine also ; and those who have 
 no helper, whom I must seek in the dark haunts 
 of sin. The fields lie ripe for harvest, waiting for 
 the reaper. I wonder I have lingered so long in 
 the wilderness. The Master spent there forty days 
 out of three years of service; while I in three years 
 of contemplation have not given forty days to active 
 work." He explained the details of his scheme, and 
 spoke of the satisfaction which he found in it. 
 
 Claude listened absently, with her smiling gaze 
 fixed upon the cradle which contained her sleeping 
 children. 
 
 - " Oh, Metz," she exclaimed, " I hope I may never 
 see it again, and never enter that dismal church 
 with a murder beneath its walls. I have known 
 happiness only in Thichiemont." Here she began to 
 sing a crooning melody which nature taught the 
 earliest mother when love first set itself to a tune. 
 
 Ambrose felt a momentary pang of disappointment. 
 When he left Thichiemont he knew that the pain 
 of parting existed only for him. 
 
 The claims of this new, absorbing mother-love
 
 232 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUE-DE-LIS. 
 
 cost' Robert more than one jealous moment. Life 
 in Claude's eyes had entirely altered its proportions ; 
 to him they remained unchanged. The young Raoul 
 and Robert were intrusive facts, not to be hence 
 forth ignored in the scheme of existence ; but to 
 the father their importance did not predominate all 
 else in the orderly arrangement of the universe which 
 had preceded them. The cosmos did not on their 
 account need to set itself to a new pattern, nor the 
 music of the spheres require a readjustment of pitch. 
 Some such jesting remark made to his wife came 
 near to precipitating their first quarrel. 
 
 "A man can never understand a woman's heart," 
 said Claude, concluding the discussion. 
 
 " Which serves to remind me, love," answered 
 Robert, "that I have of late bitterly reproached my 
 self that I did not urge you to have your mother 
 with you at a time when her sympathy would be 
 most grateful. It is not now too late. I will send 
 for her to come at once to Thichiemont. Indeed, 
 such would have been my course long since, if I 
 had not known that after her return to 'Domre'my, 
 she lay ill with rheumatic fever, unable to move from 
 the bed." 
 
 Claude started, and grew pale. 
 
 " It would not do," she said hastily. " If well, the 
 journey would make her ill again. Do not think I
 
 THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES. 233 
 
 need any other than yourself. O Robert! you are 
 all the world to me." 
 
 With this followed tears, kisses, and a tenderer 
 consciousness of mutual love. 
 
 Ambrose sat in the chair within the confessional 
 of St. Seglenne, sheltered from the view of the 
 worshippers in the church, but able, if he chose, to 
 observe their coming and going through the grated 
 aperture where the kneeling penitent poured his con 
 fession into the ear of the priest. The hour was 
 almost over; and he was waiting for the striking of 
 the clock which should release him, occupied mean 
 time in the sort of musing revery which is the re 
 laxation of mental effort. After a day of active 
 labor among the multitude, a sustained train of medi 
 tation was less easy than in his hermitage ; perhaps 
 on this account the tone of his mind was more habit 
 ually cheerful, and the problems of life pressed less 
 heavily upon him. The young priest of St. Seglenne 
 had become a power in Metz. Hundreds thronged 
 the church to hear him preach ; and hearts were 
 stirred as by the crying of the voice in the wilder 
 ness. His look and carriage showed something of 
 the dignity of success, and a modest satisfaction in 
 deserved applause. 
 
 At this moment a late penitent entered, and knelt
 
 234 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUIi-DE-LIS. 
 
 before the grating, and the priest bent his head to 
 listen while the confession began in the prescribed 
 manner. The penitent's voice was low, and her- 
 utterance broken and incoherent; and the tale to 
 which the priest listened with a divided attention 
 seemed a rambling rhapsody. The woman was young ; 
 and her features, so far as they were visible beneath 
 her hood, were beautifully modelled, in the conscious 
 ness of which Ambrose withdrew his eyes and fixed 
 them upon his crucifix. 
 
 " It was your sermon on the subject of the sin of 
 Achan, father," she said, " that led me to see my 
 duty clearly. Each one of us, you said, has in his 
 heart an accursed thing, buried, but not forgotten, 
 and plain in the sight of God. Since hearing your 
 words, it has been as if a voice sounded day and 
 night in my ears, urging me to tell the secret that 
 I have kept hidden so long for the sake of others. 
 But, from thinking so long upon the matter, I have 
 confused my notion of right and wrong concerning 
 it, and I need your counsel to strengthen me in my 
 decision. I must first tell of the singular way in 
 which I learned the secret. 
 
 " About a year ago my brother took into his house 
 a man who had been foully dealt witli and nearly 
 murdered in the street. And this was not altogether 
 out of charity, though my brother has a good heart;
 
 THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES. 235 
 
 but he had reason to believe that this man possessed 
 information on a subject which he would give a for 
 tune to be master of. The injured man recovered 
 in a measure his consciousness and power of speech. 
 But my brother could make nothing of any conversa 
 tion with him ; for in every man's face the stranger 
 fancied he saw that of his enemy, and he would fall 
 into a delirium of terror. Only with me he would 
 talk reasonably, though in disjointed sentences. One 
 evening, as I sat alone with the invalid, I saw a 
 change in his face, which I recognized as the shadow 
 of death. But I could not leave my place ; for he 
 held my hand, and poured into my ears a whispered 
 story which it seemed the last wish of his life to 
 finish. And he would renew the narrative after a 
 pause and a sinking away that bade fair each time 
 to be the end. In look and manner he was more 
 rational than ever before ; but the story he told was 
 quite incredible. And through it all he took me for 
 another, whom he addressed as Claude or Jeanne or 
 Catherine, which were names, I found, of the same 
 application in his fancy, and referred to the Lady 
 Jeanne Des Armoises, whose ardent friend he was." 
 
 Ambrose started into sudden attention. "Tell me 
 his story, daughter," he said, with an effort to restrain 
 the tremor in his voice. 
 
 " As for that, it is nothing you will care to hear,"
 
 236 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUll-DE-LIS. 
 
 she answered. " He imagined that he was a noble 
 man of France, Louis Boisbourdon by name, who had 
 incurred the king's suspicion, and had been put to 
 the torture, sewn in a sack, and thrown in the Seine. 
 From this extremest peril he declared he had been 
 rescued by a wizard in the pay of the Marshal de 
 Retz, who was then a youthful knight high in favor 
 with the king, who had no suspicion of his evil prac 
 tices. The marshal, if you will believe the story, had 
 committed a murder, which he concealed by sewing 
 the body in a sack, marked, as was customary in crim 
 inal executions, with the words, ' Let pass the justice 
 of the king.' On the evening of the intended exe 
 cution, the marshal, then Sire de Laval, was on the 
 bridge when the condemned man was flung into the 
 river. In the darkness, no one noticed the boat wait 
 ing in the shadow of the piers. There was a splash, 
 an eddy in the water, and those waiting on the river- 
 bank lower down the stream saw the floating sack 
 which the wizard in the boat had flung into the waves 
 at the same time that he had withdrawn the other, 
 out of which he rescued the miserable wreck of human 
 ity, whom his care and skill brought slowly back to 
 life. It was in something like these words that I 
 heard the tale with which I would not trouble your 
 holy ears, father, except for the solemnity of the death 
 bed utterance, and the strange conclusion which the
 
 THE SWOKD OF DAMOCLES. 237 
 
 minstrel gave to it ; for at the end he fixed his eyes 
 upon me, and said: 'I have told you my secret, Cather 
 ine, in return for yours, that you may understand how 
 closely our destinies resemble each other. It was as 
 easy for the marshal to make a resurrected Maid of 
 Orleans out of her living counterpart and sister, Cath 
 erine, as for him to thwart the justice of the king, 
 and cheat the king of terrors of a victim already 
 within his grasp. In the one case he has made a 
 miserable, homeless wanderer out of the proudest no 
 bleman in France. In the other, I pray God his evil 
 purpose may be guided and overruled to secure your 
 happiness.' Towards the last, his words came more 
 faintly and with a greater effort, and at last ceased ; 
 and he died in my arms when I tried to lift him back 
 upon the pillow from which he had raised himself." 
 
 The priest's voice to his own ears sounded hoarse 
 and unnatural as he replied, " Is it possible that you 
 can attach the slightest credibility to the delirium of a 
 dying man, or waste a precious hour in relating it?" 
 
 " My situation is not yet plain to you, father," 
 was the reply. "Ever since the appearance of this 
 new Maid of Orleans some have called her a pre 
 tender, my brother Jean among the rest, and more 
 than all ; for he is that Jean de Novelonpont who 
 was Jeanne Dare's first companion in arms, and he 
 knew her as well as his own sister. He has from
 
 238 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 the first declared this woman to be an impostor; but 
 he has always maintained that it is by the power 
 of magic that she has assumed Jeanne's form. The 
 idea that her sister has been trained to represent her 
 would make all clear to him. This is the clew for 
 which he has been unconsciously searching; and I, 
 his sister, possessing it, have defrauded him of what 
 he would give worlds to own. It was out of pity for 
 the Lady Des Armoises that I did it, and for the 
 sake of her husband who has been kind to me. Let 
 the blow come from some other hand than mine, 
 I thought. Let their happiness last while it may. 
 Now I feel that in concealing a lie I have shared its 
 guilt; for you told us, father, that we should pluck 
 the pleasant sin from our hearts though it should be 
 like plucking out an eye, or severing the right hand. 
 I have determined to do my duty." 
 
 "Why come to me for counsel if your decision is 
 made ? " asked the priest coldly. 
 
 "Because like a foolish woman I dread to do what 
 I know will give pain. It is as if by a word I 
 knew that I should bring the house upon my head. 
 Who knows what the consequences may be ? Assure 
 me that I am right, and I shall have the strength 
 of your words to support me." 
 
 "In all this you are wasting the energies of your 
 soul and conscience on that which is as empty as a
 
 THE SWOED OF DAMOCLES. 239 
 
 bubble of air," said Ambrose. " The story you have 
 heard is of no more consequence than the sighing 
 of the wind. In proof of which I will tell you 
 what few know. I was with Catherine Dare when 
 she died, and myself received her last confession, 
 and closed her eyes. Jeanne Dare had no other sister." 
 
 Eudeline felt a weight lifted from her soul. A 
 sudden rush of tears filled her eyes. " How ^weak 
 and foolish I must appear to you, father," she said 
 contritely. 
 
 " You have allowed your sober judgment to give 
 place to wild imaginings," he replied. "To regain 
 the calm which every Christian should cherish in his 
 soul, read daily some meditation on the lives of the 
 saints. You will be less likely to be led astray by 
 idle fancies. Say ten extra Pater Nbsters before leav 
 ing the church ; and now depart with my blessing. 
 Pax vobiscum" 
 
 Eudeline rose with glad alacrity, and remained for 
 a time in prayer before the shrine of St. Seglenne ; 
 while Ambrose, rising to his feet in his narrow closet, 
 flung his arms into the air, then clasped and wrung 
 his hands and bent his head upon them. 
 
 "I have lost my soul for her sake," he groaned. 
 An hour later he was kneeling in the empty church, 
 wrestling with a despair which he knew could have 
 no alleviation.
 
 240 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUH-DE-LIS. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE SWORD FALLS. 
 
 EFORE winter came on, Des Armoises 
 returned with his family to Metz, 
 and the sombre old house, upon which 
 the shadow of St. Seglenne's spire 
 fell daily, was filled from top to bot 
 tom with the stir of joyous life. 
 
 The day upon which the twins were six months 
 old was also that upon which Charles the Well- 
 Served entered the capital of his kingdom ; but in 
 the calendar of the house of Des Armoises its title 
 to importance was found in the first circumstance 
 rather than the last. 
 
 The Marshal de Retz sent a letter to the Lady Des 
 Armoises describing the entry into Paris : 
 
 " The king rode in splendid attire " [he wrote], " with the dau 
 phin at his side, and the squire who held his bridle was no other 
 than your former squire, Jean D'Aulon. This was of course in 
 compliment to the Pucelle, and indirectly to myself. But to off 
 set this concession to the popular feeling, the member of the 
 University who preached the sermon of welcome was the ex-
 
 THE SWORD FALLS. 241 
 
 ecrable Nicole Midi, friend of Cauchon, and bitter persecutor 
 of Jeanne Dare. Thus does our royal master deal out the bitter 
 with the sweet, as if unwilling ever to show too great apprecia 
 tion for the services of his friends." 
 
 The winter of 1437 and 1438 was long remembered 
 in stricken France as one of misery and distress, 
 when heaven itself seemed to withdraw its mercy, 
 and the elements warred with those who were already 
 reduced to the last extremity by the cruelty of man. 
 Continued rains had spoiled the harvest, and with 
 the advancing season the inclemency of the weather 
 increased. Rivers were swollen, lowlands flooded, and 
 villages swept away; while their inhabitants, if they 
 escaped the waves, perished by hunger. Pestilence 
 and famine stalked through the land ; hungry wolves 
 howled in the streets of Paris ; and bandits who had 
 less mercy than the wolves ravaged the country. 
 
 A petition for aid was addressed to the king, and 
 pitiful indeed was this Complaint of the Poor Labor 
 ers ; but when did Charles give succor to those who 
 relied upon him? and how could the weak and vacil 
 lating monarch repress the ravages of the brigands 
 who were his own captains of war? 
 
 One April morning the sun, breaking through the 
 clouds that hung low over the valley of the Moselle, 
 revealed a desolate landscape where shallow lakes
 
 242 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS 
 
 reflected its light from what should be the undulat 
 ing surface of cultivated fields. The high roads in 
 the neighborhood of Metz were a succession of gullies 
 and pitfalls, which the soldiers from the several for 
 tresses were deputed to repair, giving travellers such 
 aid as they required. 
 
 Over one of these difficult and uneven roadways, 
 Robert Des Armoises was approaching the city on his 
 return from Thichiemont, where he had been sum 
 moned by the tidings of a disastrous flood, the report 
 of which was so far from being exaggerated that the 
 reality which he encountered exceeded his expecta 
 tions. He found that the village was under water, 
 scores of lives had been lost, and a shallow sea 
 stretched where the marshes had been on every side 
 of Thichiemont lodge. To enter the abode of his 
 ancestors, it had been necessary to set forth upon an 
 extemporized raft, propelled by two stout peasants 
 with long poles in their hands, and landing at the 
 inner courtyard, to cross the wet paving-stones in 
 water up to the ankle. 
 
 Old Nicole received his lord with a jeremiad of 
 woes which he poured forth unceasingly in the ears 
 of a listener whose sympathy was assured ; for the 
 sorrows which weighed most heavily on the heart of 
 the faithful servitor of the house of Thichiemont 
 were those concerning its future as revealed by a
 
 THE SWORD FAX,LS. 243 
 
 prophecy whose verity none could question. Nicole's 
 father and grandfather had known it in their day, 
 and none could say how far back its origin might be 
 traced. 
 
 " When ships shall ride at Thichiemont tower 
 That name shall cease forever more." 
 
 So ran the lines which Nicole declared had not 
 ceased to sound in his ears since he observed the 
 waters of the lagoons rising slowly but surely where 
 water had never been before. 
 
 "In my grandfather's time," he said, "the marshes 
 were only green meadows crossed by brooks, where 
 cows could pasture ; and in his father's memory, 
 Thichiemont had often been put to hardship for lack 
 of water, the springs in the meadow not being full 
 enough to supply the castle and the crowds that then 
 frequented it. Lord William used to laugh, and de 
 clare that, according to the prophecy, the line of his 
 descendants would perpetually endure. But," con 
 cluded the old man with a sigh, " that which is to be 
 must come, and none can hinder it." 
 
 Des Armoises tried to divert his steward's mind 
 from its melancholy prepossessions, but without avail ; 
 and he left him still maundering and shaking his head 
 over the certain downfall of the race he had served 
 so long, and whose fate he meant to share ; for nothing
 
 244 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 would induce him to exchange his dismal quarters 
 for others more secure and commodious. 
 
 Robert left Thichiemont with spirits clouded by 
 the distress and suffering which he had been able 
 only in part to alleviate. His unfulfilled intention of 
 draining the marsh-lands recurred to him less as a 
 salve to his conscience than as a cause of regret for 
 a lost opportunity ; for it seemed to him that every 
 life that had been cut off in its prime could be laid 
 to the charge of his neglect. 
 
 When he expressed this idea to his friend, the Sire 
 de Villette, whom he met in Marville, that gentleman 
 laughed loudly at his scruples, and berated him for 
 what he called his womanish sentimentality. "What 
 matter a score or two of peasants drowned," he said. 
 " It is an accident like any other ; and happier for 
 them, no doubt, since their souls, if they have souls, 
 are secured by church and priest whose faithful ser 
 vants they were, and their bodies are at rest. As 
 for imagining that your duty requires you to stand 
 in the place of Providence, and bear the blame for 
 disasters that come in the course of nature, that were 
 too absurd a magnifying of your responsibilities. So 
 tender a conscience, my lord, will carry you no farther 
 than to the nearest monastery." 
 
 Robert took his friend's rebuke in good part, realiz 
 ing that he who possesses ideals higher than his fel-
 
 THE SWOBD FALLS. 245 
 
 lows must keep his own counsel, or endure reproach 
 as a troublesome fanatic. He pressed on his journey 
 eager to be at home, and feeling his heart expand 
 with satisfaction at the first sight of the spires of the 
 city rising above its walls, the dark masses of towers 
 and houses girdled by the shining rivers, whose bridges 
 hardly served to span the swollen waters. 
 
 Urged by his impatience, he left the safer road, and 
 skirting the city on the river side, climbed the hill 
 that led to the Moselle gate. No other horseman had 
 been bold enough that day to attempt the passage of 
 loose stones, rain-filled rivulets, and treacherous mire 
 into which the late storms had converted the ascent; 
 and the gatekeeper watched him curiously as he 
 passed. As he approached his house Des Armoises 
 was conscious of the sudden causeless apprehension 
 which comes to the returning traveller whose anxious 
 affection makes him aware that all the joy of life 
 hangs on a thread which the shears of Atropos can 
 sever in a moment's fatal chance. To his fancy the 
 house had an unfamiliar look, and the servant who 
 ran to hold his bridle stared at him with inquisitive 
 scrutiny. 
 
 "Are all well?" he asked quickly. "Is your mis 
 tress within ? " and, although he received an affirma 
 tive reply, he was conscious of a certain reservation 
 in the tone of it which added to his vaofue concern.
 
 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUK-DE-LIS. 
 
 His wife was alone ; and when she saw him she ran 
 forward with an eager exclamation, but stopped at 
 a little distance, holding herself aloof, and looking at 
 him with a penetrating gaze which seemed to ques 
 tion his inmost thoughts. "What is it, Jeanne?" 
 he cried with a sinking heart. " Where are the chil 
 dren ? Has anything happened to their hurt ? " 
 
 " My love, my love ! " she exclaimed, flinging her 
 self upon his breast, and returning his kiss with 
 passionate tenderness. " The children are well. They 
 are now with my mother, who cannot let them go a 
 moment from her sight." 
 
 " Your mother here ? " he asked in surprise. 
 
 She grew pale, and her lips trembled as she asked, 
 "You have heard nothing?" 
 
 He shook his head. "Tell me what lias chanced." 
 
 At this moment a shadow fell across the threshold ; 
 and Jean de Metz entered, unannounced, with a grave 
 face and contracted brow, like one who comes as a 
 friend into a house of mourning. At the sight of 
 him Claude's expression changed into a convulsive 
 look of fear and hatred. " He is your enemy, Robert," 
 she said. " Avoid him, and believe nothing that he says." 
 
 Des Armoises turned a frowning brow upon the in 
 truder. "What is your business here, Novelonpont?" 
 he asked. "I am weary from my journey, and have 
 no time nor wish to welcome visitors."
 
 THE SWOKD FALLS. 247 
 
 De Metz gave him a pitying look. "I will stay 
 only till my unhappy task is done," he answered. 
 "Speak, Lady Des Armoises, or, if you choose, give 
 me leave to tell the story." 
 
 Robert, turning in surprise from one to the other, 
 saw in his wife's expression, as she faced Novelonpont, 
 such abject entreaty that no spoken words could 
 have added to the appeal. "Spare me," her eyes im 
 plored. 
 
 " What is the meaning of this ? " cried Des Armoises. 
 " How dare you, De Metz, terrify my wife by your un 
 friendly and threatening manner?" 
 
 " Truth must out," answered Novelonpont in a hol 
 low voice. " My poor friend, you have been wofully 
 deceived, as we all have been, by a pretender set up 
 by that wicked man, the Marshal de Ret/, to assume 
 Jeanne Dare's place and character. The amazing suc 
 cess of this imposture was made possible by the close 
 resemblance of the two sisters, and the prevalent be 
 lief that Catherine Dare died long since. On the 
 contrary, Jeanne's death at Rouen is now an estab 
 lished fact, and this woman, your wife, is her sister 
 Catherine." 
 
 Robert stood like a man who receives a mortal blow ; 
 for his eyes, fixed on his wife's face, read in the guilt 
 and anguish visible there the confirmation of these 
 words.
 
 248 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUK-DE-LIS. 
 
 "Leave us, cruel man, since you have done your 
 worst," cried Claude, wringing her hands ; and Nove- 
 lonpont, with a glance at his friend's blanched and 
 stricken countenance, obeyed. 
 
 A silence fell between the two, broken only by the 
 sobbing cry with which Claude cast herself at her 
 husband's feet, embracing his knees in a mute ap 
 peal for mercy, while he stood for a moment, rigid 
 and motionless, as if suddenly turned to stone ; then, 
 thrusting her aside with an inarticulate exclamation, 
 he staggered to a seat, bent his head upon his hands, 
 and sat staring into vacancy with eyes that saw only 
 the crumbling ruins of his palace of enchantment, and 
 beheld in his wife's prostrate form a detected Lamia, 
 cowering in the shame of her serpent change. 
 
 "Forgive me, forgive me, Robert," she entreated. 
 "The marshal forced me by the fear of death to take 
 Jeanne's place and name. A hundred times it has 
 been in my mind to tell you the truth ; but again and 
 again I feared to risk your anger. If you knew all 
 as it happened, you would forgive me as my brothers 
 did. Be patient, love, and I can make you under 
 stand that in all this I have been the victim of neces 
 sity, without power to resist that which I hated from 
 my soul." 
 
 Her voice trembled and died into silence, for she 
 realized the hopelessness of the appeal. It was as if
 
 THE SWORD FALLS. 
 
 an impalpable wall had suddenly been erected be 
 tween her and her husband; and through it voices 
 sounded as mere echoes, the clasp of hands became a 
 ghostly contact, and nothing more was real except 
 the pain that gnawed at the heart of each, remorse 
 lessly and without chance of alleviation. 
 
 "God," exclaimed Robert, "why could I not have 
 died before I felt this blow?" 
 
 Claude knelt before him with her face buried in 
 her hands, praying to an offended God for an impos 
 sible succor, so it seemed to her saddened fancy. 
 Often as she had pictured this moment in the cer 
 tainty that discovery must some day come, she had 
 never, until now, realized the inevitable failure of 
 every support to the soul that does not rest on 
 truth. 
 
 Following an unnoticed tap on the door, Father Am 
 brose entered with a bent head and a dejected air ; and 
 at the sight of him Robert started from his stupefaction 
 into a mood of furious indignation. 
 
 " Here comes the chief offender, the arch traitor," he 
 said. " If you were not a priest, unworthy as you are 
 to bear that name, you should answer with your life 
 for your share in this foul conspiracy against me. I 
 can suspect, though I do not know half the baseness 
 of your position as a spy in my house under the com 
 mand and in the service of the Marshal de Retz; for
 
 250 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUK-DE-LIS. 
 
 at this moment for the first time I begin to perceive 
 your share in the villainy that was plotted when the 
 marshal was at Domre'my, and you met him secretly 
 at night, unnoticed by any but the village clown, who 
 in view of the result has proved himself wiser than 
 the rest of us. ' Say Catherine to Ambrose, and see 
 if he will not blush,' those were his sapient words ; and 
 I rebuked him for his suspicion of a holy man, and 
 like an easy dupe swallowed every bait prepared for 
 my credulity. My grandfather starved his wife to 
 death for suspected infidelity ; what infidelity can com 
 pare with this daily and hourly conspiracy against me ? 
 How can you dare to look me in the eyes, Catherine 
 Dare, remembering with what measure of treachery 
 and deceit you have rewarded my love and confidence ? 
 You are guilty of the foulest treason ; you should suffer 
 the traitor's death ; but I will condemn you only to the 
 torments of your own conscience, and the shame of the 
 world's scorn. Leave my house, and let me never more 
 see the devilish beauty of your false, seductive face. 
 Your children may return with your mother to Dom 
 re'my. I am willing to entrust them to her care on 
 condition that they do not know you as their mother, 
 and are kept in ignorance of all that concerns their 
 parentage. My name shall never survive this disgrace. 
 Old Nicole's prophecy is fulfilled." 
 
 He left the room without waiting for a reply, and
 
 THE SWOED FALLS. 251 
 
 for a moment Claude stood gazing after him in silence ; 
 then with a cry of lamentation like that once heard in 
 Ramah, she fell at Father Ambrose's feet, and uncon 
 sciousness mercifully came to the relief of her tortured 
 heart and brain.
 
 252 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 A PROMISE. 
 
 N the anteroom Robert came upon Nove- 
 lonpont, who was pacing there with 
 gloomy brow, the picture of a man 
 with whom success has all the quality 
 of defeat. He approached his friend, 
 and laid a timid hand upon his arm. 
 
 " I am ready to offer you what consolation I can for 
 the grief that I have brought upon you," he said. " It 
 is by my means that the truth has come to light. 
 Being sure that we had to do with a work of enchant 
 ment, it occurred to me that no one could more readily 
 expose the deception than the virtuous mother of 
 Jeanne Dare, who, on one pretext or another, had all 
 this while been kept at a distance from her supposed 
 daughter. I therefore arranged that Isabel should 
 meet me, unknown to her sons, in Toul ; and from 
 that place I brought her with me by boat to Metz, 
 a dangerous journey, since the freshet has obliterated 
 all landmarks ; but by the providence of God we 
 reached here in safety. Our coming was kept a secret,
 
 A PROMISE. 253 
 
 as I had hopes of surprising the truth from the un 
 masked sorceress ; and I contrived accordingly that 
 we should be introduced unannounced into the pres 
 ence of the lady Des Armoises ; but the result discon 
 certed my expectations. Isabel gazed for a moment, 
 and then ran forward crying, ' It is my daughter Cathe 
 rine ; not Jeanne, but Catherine.' Taken thus com 
 pletely by surprise, your unhappy wife so far forgot 
 herself, in the suddenness of her vexation, as to raise 
 her hand against her mother. She struck her, crying, 
 'Woman, you lie;' and the next moment she broke 
 down and fell a-weeping with grief and shame." 
 
 Robert groaned as he said, " For God's sake, leave 
 me to myself, Novelonpont. I can bear no more ; 
 I am hard beset." 
 
 "Courage," said Novelonpont sympathetically, "your 
 happiness is lost, but your honor need not be. For 
 your sake I am willing to keep the secret, and to 
 trust Jeanne's fame a little longer to the keeping 
 of her unfortunate sister. I am loath to bring dis 
 grace upon the family of the Maid of Orleans by 
 allowing this to become an open scandal. Let Cath 
 erine retire from public view, and end her days in 
 a convent. So would the interests of all concerned 
 be best secured." 
 
 "I make no objection," answered Robert. "Nor 
 am I likely to make open proclamation of this dis-
 
 254 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 honoring discovery. Arrange it according to your 
 wish." 
 
 So saying, he released himself from De Metz's de 
 taining hold, and retired to his study, where he closed 
 and barred the door against all comers. 
 
 Novelonpont went to take counsel with the priest, 
 having no doubt of his co-operation in a scheme which 
 would be in natural agreement with his preposses 
 sions; but, to his surprise, he found Father Ambrose 
 full of a new idea, for which he claimed divine in 
 spiration. It had been revealed to him in a vision, 
 which he had not until now been able to interpret, 
 that the false Jeanne was to go to Rome, receive the 
 blessing and absolution of the Pope, thereafter to 
 set forth upon a new crusade against the enemies of 
 France, in which she was promised the assistance of 
 the saints, and assured that the mantle of her sister 
 should fall upon her shoulders. 
 
 " Can you not see the hand of God in this matter, 
 overruling the evil purpose of a man of sin, and 
 making him but the instrument of the divine will?" 
 said Ambrose, with eager conviction. " The new 
 Jeanne has been raised up in place of the old. Born 
 in the same house, nourished at the same breast, 
 wearing the same features, what should hinder her 
 from doing the same Avork ? The misery of her pres 
 ent position results from the fatal mistake she made
 
 A PROMISE. 255 
 
 in yielding to the interference of her brothers, and 
 to the alluring voice of love, and so giving up the 
 mission to which she had been called. Happier were 
 it for her if she might, as you suggest, find rest from 
 effort and forgetfulness of grief in a convent; but 
 this is a world of struggle and endeavor, in which 
 we are not weakly to lay down our arms before the 
 victory is won. In my vision it was plainly declared 
 that the new Jeanne was to go to Rome, and there 
 receive the blessing of the Pope, which would give 
 a sanction to her mission which no one in the future 
 could gainsay. She consents to this on one condi 
 tion, a condition which shows that her heart still 
 clings to the things of earth, and must be still further 
 chastened by misfortune, before it can reflect the 
 singleness of her sister's devotion. She means first 
 to win her husband's promise of forgiveness as con 
 tingent upon the success of her undertaking. Think 
 you that she can succeed in this?" 
 
 Novelonpont shook his head. " The Sire Des Ar- 
 moises would have no faith in your vision, and no 
 confidence in her resolve," he answered. " He is cut 
 to the heart by the treachery that has been practiced 
 against him, and feels the bitter anger of a betrayed 
 and disappointed man." 
 
 "But you, my friend," said Ambrose, "you, who 
 have such kindness for the memory of Jeanne Dare, and
 
 256 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 such sympathy for all that relates to her, surely you 
 will not oppose her sister in the attempt to follow 
 in her footsteps, and to complete her work for France." 
 
 De Metz hesitated. He was predisposed by the 
 temper of his mind to credit the marvellous, and to 
 welcome all that appealed to his lively imagination 
 and deep religious sense ; in this spirit he had been 
 the first to champion Jeanne Dare. To him Ambrose's 
 explanation seemed inherently probable, and not to 
 be lightly set aside because it involved inconvenient 
 consequences. That it must bring to him the re- 
 linquishment of the settled purpose which he had 
 so long pursued might be only a just correction of 
 the fallacy upon which it was based. The discon 
 certing surprise of Catherine Dare's reappearance pre 
 pared him to admit his own fallibility, and to follow 
 the guidance of other conclusions than his own. 
 
 "I will consider the matter," he replied. "I am 
 ready to do what is right if I can find where the 
 truth lies." 
 
 " I have no uncertainty as to that," answered Am 
 brose. " I have never doubted the heavenly vision 
 when it has had the clearness of visual evidence. In 
 this case I have seen Jeanne Dare as I was wont to 
 see her in the first year of my priesthood. It was 
 her voice that bade her sister undertake the journey 
 to Rome."
 
 A PROMISE. 257 
 
 "These things are beyond my understanding," re 
 plied De Metz. "It may be well to leave them to 
 the test of time ; and I consent to keep the secret of 
 the new Jeanne's identity for the present, stipulating 
 that when her mission is fulfilled she shall assume 
 her proper character as the successor and sister of 
 Jeanne Dare, leaving the glorious image of the true 
 Messiah of France undimmed by rivalry or the 
 changes of time, the unique example of heroic 
 womanhood." 
 
 " Agreed," said Ambrose eagerly. " No one more 
 than myself desires to rid our enterprise of the stigma 
 of a lie. When the Pope absolves us from that sin, 
 I hope that the truth can be made known without 
 loss or shame." 
 
 These two high-minded conspirators then went their 
 way, leaving the house of Des Armoises in the shadow 
 of its grief, which was broken by a ray of cheer only 
 in the nursery, where Isabel Romee sat with her grand 
 sons on her knees, satisfying the yearning of her long- 
 thwarted affection by lavishing upon them the fondest 
 blandishments of maternal love. Here, too, a tragic 
 gloom was cast, when Claude, entering, flung herself 
 at her mother's feet, and related the hopelessness of 
 her estrangement from her husband. When the twi- 
 
 O 
 
 light had fallen, and the children had been laid in their 
 canopied cradles, the two women sat hand in hand
 
 258 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 engaged in a low murmur of conversation, in that 
 sympathy of heart with heart which is possible only 
 between mother and daughter. 
 
 " Come home with me, Catherine," said Isabel. 
 " There you may be safe and happy. You can have 
 your children with you, and that will be enough for 
 your contentment ; while they will be the surest means 
 of winning your husband back to you. As for all this 
 talk of visions and pilgrimages, I have no patience 
 with it. I do not mean to lose you a second time, 
 or have you bring the vengeance of church and state 
 upon you as Jeanne did. One daughter sacrificed to 
 the cause of France is enough." 
 
 " How happy I should be if I might agree to that," 
 answered her daughter. "But Robert must first give 
 his consent, and that he never will ; nor will he return 
 to me. His love has turned to scorn and hatred, while 
 mine for him is so undying that to regain his affection 
 I would give up my children, undertake the pilgrimage 
 to Rome barefoot if need be, fight in the wars, and do 
 all that Jeanne did, if I might win the respect and 
 reverence he gave her. Do you think, mother, that 
 there is any chance of his forgiveness ? " 
 
 "To be sure; why not?" responded Isabel. "One 
 can have but little affection for husband or wife who 
 is ready at the first discovered fault to give it up." 
 
 "Robert's door is locked against me," said Claude;
 
 A PROMISE. 259 
 
 " I cannot gain speech with him, and I know not what 
 design he may be harboring against me. O mother! 
 I am the most unhappy of women, to have possessed 
 a heart so noble, and to have lost it through the fault 
 of my unhappy fate." 
 
 Isabel would not consent to view the situation in 
 its most hopeless aspect; and being wearied with her 
 journey and the trying events of the day, she went 
 to her bed, counselling her daughter to do the same, 
 trusting to Providence, arid to the better cheer which 
 the morrow might bring. 
 
 When the house was dark and silent, Claude stole, 
 as she had done many times before, to the door of 
 her husband's study, where, after tapping softly for 
 admission, and being denied by a persistent silence, 
 she sank upon the threshold, with her forehead upon 
 the oaken panel of the door, and her hands clasped 
 listlessly in her lap. She heard her husband's move 
 ments within ; he opened drawers and boxes, sorted 
 and arranged papers, and then for hours maintained 
 an enigmatic silence. Had he fallen asleep, or was 
 he like herself sunk in a trance of hopeless melan 
 choly? As the night waned she dozed, and in her 
 dreams was happy and forgiven ; then she awoke to 
 the consciousness of her aching heart, chilled frame, 
 and stiffened limbs, and waited in motionless suspense 
 for a movement in the room within. Hearing nothing,
 
 260 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 a sudden terror seized her. She imagined her husband 
 dead by his own hand, his beautiful face distorted by 
 the last agony, and his glassy eyes fixed upon her 
 with a look of undying reproach. At the horrible 
 fancy she cried out in alarm ; and in reply a footfall 
 sounded, the door was unbarred, and Robert stood 
 before her, and made a motion for her to enter. She 
 sprang to his side, and attempted to clasp his arm, 
 but he repulsed her with a look of scorn. 
 
 " Sit yonder," he said, pointing to a chair, " and 
 tell me what you may have to say in your own 
 defense. The worst criminal is permitted that; and 
 in justice to myself I should know the truth of your 
 position, if truth is a word that can even remotely 
 be applied to you." 
 
 Thus urged to speech, words for the moment forsook 
 the unhappy Claude. With clasped hands and stream 
 ing eyes she flung herself at her husband's feet, sob 
 bing incoherent entreaties for love and pardon. Robert 
 waited with an air of forbearance until she had recov 
 ered herself ; then he took her hand and led her to a 
 chair, standing before her, and looking down upon her 
 with a face of anguish. 
 
 Deceived by the calm of his manner into a quick, 
 delusive hope, Claude began her story with words 
 made eloquent by emotion ; and Robert listened, feel 
 ing each sentence as a sword-thrust, to the strange
 
 A PROMISE. 261 
 
 story of the double life which had been so fair in 
 outward seeming while within it was a festering 
 crime. 
 
 "Forgive me for our children's sake, Robert," she 
 concluded, " and for the sake of all the joy that 
 we have known and may know again now that this 
 terrible secret is no longer a barrier between us. Let 
 us go far away, to Constantinople or the distant East, 
 where no one will know our past, and where we can 
 begin a new life, free from its memory. I will give 
 you such love and devotion as will make you happy, 
 Robert. Years of happiness shall atone for this day 
 of grief." 
 
 "You appeal to our love, our children," he ex 
 claimed; "God in heaven! they are the witnesses to 
 your damnation." 
 
 "Is there no hope?" she asked with trembling 
 lips. 
 
 " None," he replied ; " my honor is too sorely 
 wounded, and for that the Marshal de Retz shall be 
 held to strict account. He cannot long escape pun 
 ishment at my hands. One object and one interest 
 remains to me in life, revenge." 
 
 "If you blame him, can you not pity and excuse 
 me?" 
 
 "No; for by appeal to the protection of the king 
 or the church, you could have escaped his power. He
 
 262 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 has many enemies who have long been seeking a pre 
 text for his destruction." 
 
 "How could I, an ignorant and defenseless girl, 
 know that?" 
 
 "You could have trusted your secret to me, to De 
 Metz, to any brave man who would have undertaken 
 your defense." 
 
 " But Father Ambrose counselled patience, and the 
 Abbess Hilda assured me that I was doing the will 
 of God in imitating my sister's life and mission." 
 
 " Lies which your conscience should have taught you 
 to discredit." 
 
 "But if I had told the truth, you would have with 
 drawn your love and admiration from me, hating me 
 then as you do now for the imposture." 
 
 "I know not," he answered musingly. "If you 
 had told me that night at Arlon I should have left 
 you in horror, for then I loved you as one worships 
 a saint; but if you had trusted me with your secret 
 when first I met you in Marville, I am not sure 
 that my heart was so deeply engaged but that I should 
 have been willing to relinquish my pleasing delusion 
 with a passing regret, such as we give to the fading 
 visions of youth, and I might have found interest in 
 championing your cause against the marshal, and in 
 pursuing him, as I shall now, with discovery and 
 destruction."
 
 A PROMISE. 263 
 
 " But you would never have loved and wedded me 
 as my true self," she urged. 
 
 "I should at least have been your friend," he 
 answered. 
 
 "That would not have sufficed to compensate for 
 what I should have lost," she said. " It was my 
 love for you that made it impossible for me to put 
 all to the test, as many a time my conscience prompted 
 me to do. You cannot guess the depth of my love, 
 since yours fails at the first strain put upon it. No 
 crime that you could commit could turn my heart 
 from you. It will be yours while life and thought 
 remain to me." 
 
 Her tone grew in dignity with the resignation of 
 despair; and Robert's mood softened from implacable 
 resentment to a compassionate regret. Once having 
 yielded to the promptings of sympathy, he began to 
 realize the situation from a new point of view, that 
 of the loving woman with whom affection counts for 
 more than duty or ease of conscience. Looking back 
 over his past life, he wondered whether he had the 
 right to fling a stone at her for this. Before his 
 nature had been touched and exalted by devotion 
 to the inspiring character of the Maid of France, he 
 had been the slave of a consuming passion whose wreck 
 had left the whole world void ; and on the day of his 
 visit to Domre'my, destiny had held his future bal-
 
 264 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 anced evenly between the paths of righteousness and 
 the by-ways of profligacy. The hand of the Pucelle 
 had turned the scale. Grief for the loss of the bright 
 image that had filled his heart, and for the fading of 
 the dream that had been a glory and a joy, now that 
 the first shock of agonized dismay was over, became 
 a softer and more tender melancholy; and he realized 
 that he had never possessed in other than a visionary 
 form the love and companionship of Jeanne of France. 
 
 He recalled a hundred vexing suspicions, unsub 
 stantial as air, but tending to the undermining of 
 his belief in her. In place of the transcendent spirit 
 uality he had looked for, he had recognized an earthly 
 and seductive charm to which lie had yielded half 
 unwillingly as to a siren's song. He had been con 
 scious of a baffling mystery and reserve, and a lack 
 of confidence and sympathy, which defeated his dearest 
 wishes. The vague unrest which clouded his happiness 
 had been forgotten only when he had learned to accept 
 a lower, more commonplace contentment than that 
 which he had dreamed of. 
 
 He sighed, and leaned his head upon his hand. 
 " My disappointment is that of a man who grasps 
 at a bubble, and laments that it melts at a touch," 
 he said. " I have been an easy dupe, and have myself 
 to blame for .the grief that has fallen upon me. Let us 
 part as friends, Catherine Dare, burdened by a com-
 
 A PROMISE. 265 
 
 mon weight of woe, which neither can help the other 
 to endure. My lot, indeed, is happier than yours ; for 
 a man has the world before him, and, having marred 
 his life, may reconstruct it as he will. I shall in time 
 perhaps bury in oblivion the gnawing sorrow which 
 is more severe than that which I once suffered by 
 a woman's betrayal, only because in this case I believed 
 my seducer to be a saint, while in the other instance 
 I knew her to be a beautiful demon." 
 
 "Why must you cast me off, if you have any kind 
 ness for me? " she sobbed, feeling a new pang of jealous 
 misery at his words, and bewildered by the change 
 in his mood, whose pensive regret brought him no 
 nearer to her than his anger had done. " Can you not 
 acknowledge me to be your wife, and the mother of 
 your children ? Am I not worthy to be their devoted 
 nurse, and your humble slave?" 
 
 A deep frown appeared between his brows. "It is 
 the thought of what this dishonor means to them that 
 maddens me," he replied. 
 
 Claude rose to her feet, and stood with her hands 
 clasped tightly together, and her frame nerved for 
 one last appeal. 
 
 " Listen, Robert," she said. " If my children live to 
 know their mother as one whose deeds have won her 
 world-wide fame ; if all praise me as the worthy suc 
 cessor to my sister Jeanne ; if the story of my life
 
 2GG THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 from this day forth is only the continuation of her 
 history ; if I am as religious, as devoted, as successful 
 in the wars, will you promise to receive me again as 
 your wife and the worthy mother o.f your children?*' 
 
 The genuineness of her emotion touched him; and he 
 looked witli pity at her grief-stricken face, illuminated 
 for the moment by a transfiguring hope. 
 
 " On that condition, I promise it," he said, with 
 a touch of sarcasm in his voice which Claude did not 
 detect; for, grasping at this slight consolation, she flung 
 herself before him, and kissed his hands, wetting them 
 with tears. 
 
 Robert withdrew himself with an involuntary move 
 ment. 
 
 " I cannot yet forget what you have been in my 
 thought of you. I cannot let you kneel to me," he 
 said. " Moreover, I spoke in bitter jest. It is not 
 possible for you to fulfil this condition ; and no penance 
 to which I could condemn you could be worse than 
 the constant struggle and the constant failure, the 
 comparison of guilt with, perfection, and the futile 
 pursuit of an ever-deferred hope. Better to enter 
 a convent, where no shame and reproach can follow 
 you, and where the duties set you day by day may 
 teach you peace." 
 
 " Peace without you and my children ! " she 
 exclaimed. " That can only come to me when my
 
 A PROMISE. 267 
 
 heart is still beneath its shroud. I will accept every 
 hard condition in order to show you that my love 
 is strong enough to bear any test. In the convent I 
 would soon become to you a faded dream, and you 
 would find some other woman, some ' beautiful demon,' 
 with whom to console yourself ; but I swear to you, 
 Robert Des Armoises, that as long as I live you shall 
 keep me in your memory. In spite of yourself you 
 shall hear my name and the story of my deeds, whether 
 they lead to success or failure, whether I conquer 
 in the army, or, like Jeanne, suffer at the stake ; 
 and every time you hear you will remember that I 
 was once your wife, and that I have your promise 
 to receive me again as such on the condition you have 
 made ; and you will be sure that it is my love for you, 
 and my faith in your promise, which make the struggle 
 possible ; and some day I will come to you in triumph, 
 and claim your love, and you will give it to me." 
 
 She ended in tears, and remained silent, with her 
 face buried in her hands. Robert sighed, as he rose 
 from his place to extinguish the candle that flickered 
 in its socket. The light of dawn stole in at the win 
 dow, and the birds in the tree-tops were saluting it 
 with songs which took no account of the havoc wrought 
 by the storm in their devastated nests. A new day 
 had come, and new nests might be built, while the 
 sunlight was argument enough for joy.
 
 268 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 " To-day I shall arrange that the children return 
 with your mother to Domre'iny," said Robert, with 
 averted eyes. 
 
 Claude started, and pressed her hand upon her 
 heart. "And to-day I must set out for Rome," she 
 said. 
 
 " You will not go alone ? " 
 
 " Father Ambrose will accompany me. I must 
 receive the absolution of the Pope for my sin in 
 raising my hand against my mother a sin of impa 
 tience which she readily forgave, but which must 
 be specially atoned for before I can hope for God's 
 blessing on my work, so Father Ambrose says." 
 
 " It is all folly and delusion," exclaimed Robert 
 impatiently. " I should be better pleased to see you 
 turn with disgust from the old path of lying trickery, 
 which has ended in ruin, and escape forever from the 
 guidance of that man who has been your evil genius. 
 Have you become so wedded to a lie that you can 
 no longer see the value of truth as a support to the 
 soul ? If you still continue in deception, all must 
 result for you in despair." 
 
 " Since you forsake me, he is my only friend," she 
 replied. " Moreover, he is a holy man and full of 
 the love of God, though you misjudge him and 
 doubt his sincerity. If I do as he urges, I will be a 
 saint, and give the rest of my life to prayer and
 
 A PROMISE. 269 
 
 penance. He tells me that earthly love henceforth 
 is sin, and that I must cast your image forever from 
 my heart." 
 
 "In that he counsels well," answered Robert 
 gravely ; " for there is no greater grief than a delu 
 sive hope. It would be best for you to realize that 
 all is at an end between us." 
 
 " I have your promise ! " she cried, with tears in 
 her eyes. " You cannot deny it ; and I shall hold 
 you to it." 
 
 Before the day ended, change had set its mark 
 upon the house of Des Armoises, which stood hence 
 forth deserted and unvisited, except by the moving 
 shadow of the church-spire, which traced the hours 
 upon it, like the index of an enormous dial. Early 
 in the morning two children, in the arms of a nurse 
 and accompanied by their grandmother, set out on 
 the return journey by boat to Toul. Later in the 
 day two gray-robed pilgrims with scrip and staff 
 left the Moselle gate to seek with weary steps the 
 seat on earth of that heavenly power which alone 
 can loose the bonds of sin, and re-create in the soul 
 the image of a divine innocence. 
 
 Last of all, the Sire Des Armoises departed from 
 the home of his ancestors, leaving it empty of all 
 but the memory of what had been; and as he rode
 
 270 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 from its door, he turned his back forever upon his 
 youth, that paradise of bright illusions, glorious 
 hopes, and lofty aspirations, which fades to leave 
 the awakened soul in conscious nakedness and deso 
 lation.
 
 THE SIENA MANUSCRIPT. 271 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE SIENA MANUSCRIPT. 
 
 N the library of the Carmelite convent 
 at Siena, there was long preserved 
 a manuscript written in French, and 
 therefore not intelligible to many of 
 the brothers, to which fact, it may 
 be, it owed its preservation among the lives of saints 
 and copies of the Fathers in Greek and Latin, remain 
 ing unread and untranslated, until one day a learned 
 antiquarian disinterred it, and finding it valuable as 
 a historical document, persuaded the prior to part 
 with it for a good price. He was the more willing 
 to do this, since the tone of its contents, when 
 they were divulged to him, vexed his orthodox 
 soul, and led him to doubt whether the friar of 
 Lorraine, who composed it, and who had died in the 
 odor of sanctity, should not be set down as a secret 
 heretic whose bones should not be permitted to rest 
 in holy ground. 
 
 The book bore the title My Confession, and was 
 a record of the reminiscences of a friar, who asked
 
 272 THE SHIELD OP THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 the prayers of all to whom his writing should come, 
 as a sinner, conscious of a weight of guilt which 
 even the absolution of the Pope had not been able 
 to remove. It was this declaration which the prior 
 considered to savor of heresy. The sin which ap 
 peared most heinous among those confessed by the 
 writer was the desecration of the confessional, by 
 making it the medium of a lying utterance, designed 
 to shield a friend from harm ; and the friar, with 
 endless self-reproaches, styled himself an Ananias of 
 blacker guilt than he who was stricken dead for a 
 lie. It was this sin of deception for which the Pope 
 had given full absolution ; yet the monk complained 
 that the guilt of it had never ceased to vex him, the 
 more so that at the close of his life he became aware 
 that the unsuspected motive of his actions was not 
 as he had believed a heavenly inspiration, but earthly 
 love for a woman whose safety and well-being had 
 been dearer to him than the salvation of his soul. 
 As his relations with this woman were evidently 
 those of a Platonic friendship, disturbed by nothing 
 of a less spiritual nature than the affection of Dante 
 for his Beatrice, the prior, whose views on these 
 matters partook of the laxity of his life, was not 
 greatly shocked by this part of the confession ; but 
 for the sake of conventual discipline, which must be 
 maintained at least in the outward appearance, he
 
 THE SIENA MANUSCRIPT. 273 
 
 gave the purchaser of the manuscript to understand 
 that he parted from it willingly as .from an accursed 
 thing, not, therefore, without value for its literary 
 merits, and the singular facts which it related con 
 cerning the false Jeanne Dare. 
 
 A fragmentary copy of this manuscript fell into 
 the hands of a bitter enemy of France, wlio gladly 
 availed himself of the monk's confession of love for 
 the pretender to corroborate calumnious charges 
 drawn from other sources, and to enable him to add 
 to the injurious epithets which he, with the fine 
 talent for invective displayed by men of the church, 
 showered upon the head of one who had formerly 
 incurred the suspicion of the Inquisition. 
 
 The following extract from the friar's confession 
 may here be given : 
 
 " When we were come to the palace of the Pope, the Holy 
 Father received Jeanne du Lys with little delay, she being in 
 troduced by the Bishop of Padua, who had further secured for 
 us the favor of one of the gentlemen of the bedchamber high in 
 the Pope's favor. All being withdrawn from about us, at the com 
 mand of the Pontiff, we threw ourselves on our knees and kissed 
 his feet, confessing by turns the guilt for which we desired ab 
 solution ; namely, the sin of Jeanne du Lys in raising her hand 
 against her mother, and my own grievous fault in the abuse of 
 the confessional, and further the sin of both in continuing the 
 deception whereby it was commonly believed that the Jeanne 
 Dare who had taken Orleans was come in person to offer to 
 fight for the cause of the Vicar of Christ, when in reality it was
 
 274 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 Catherine Jeanne Dare or du Lys, her sister, who being her very 
 image proposed to do in her name deeds which should serve better 
 than the true Jeanne's the cause of Holy Church, and assist in 
 freeing the Pope from the persecutions of his enemies. 
 
 "After hearing our confession and the purpose of our com 
 ing, his Holiness granted to both of us full and free absolution 
 for our sins, especially for any sin against the truth which we 
 had committed or should commit, in the cause of Holy Church 
 and the defense of the Vicar of Christ, by causing the new 
 Pucelle to be regarded as her sister bearing the same name, 
 which would give the soldiers greater confidence in her as their 
 leader, and conduce to the success of her endeavor. 
 
 " Now that the object of our weary pilgrimage was fulfilled, 
 peace should have visited our souls ; but that it did not I at 
 tribute to the secret guilt of the unacknowledged motive that 
 moved us, which was not the single-hearted devotion to the 
 cause of his Holiness that we professed, but rather in my case 
 an affection for Jeanne du Lys so great that I could not en 
 dure to have her discredited by her enemies ; and with her 
 such a passionate affection for her husband who had cast her 
 off, that she would move heaven and earth to regain him. 
 
 " Thus were our minds unvisited by the consolations accorded 
 to the true penitent. 
 
 " In battle against the Duke of Milan, Jeanne du Lys rode 
 at the head of a troop of soldiers taken from the command of 
 the governor of Home, and a band of stipendiaries in the Pope's 
 pay. She rode armed in complete mail, on a white charger, 
 and carried a short sword and a small battle-axe. I remained 
 in her tent engaged in prayer for her safety ; not, sinner that 
 I was, with any wish for the success of the armies of Pope 
 Eugene IV., but with the anxious heart of one who beholds his 
 dearest friend adventured in an unusual and desperate under 
 taking. Without experience of war, and without the aid of the 
 saintly voices that lent dauntless courage to the true Jeanne, 
 how could the pretender escape destruction ?
 
 THE SIENA MANUSCRIPT. 275 
 
 " She returned in triumph, greeted by the acclamations of 
 the soldiers, who saw the hand of God in the destruction of 
 her enemies. AVhen her squire had unarmed her and she had 
 taken refreshment, she begged that she might be left with me 
 to make confession and receive absolution for homicide com 
 mitted in battle ; and when we were alone she fell half -faint 
 ing with distress at my feet. ' I am lost, Ambrose,' she said. 
 ' My husband can never again take my hand, for it is stained 
 with blood ; ' and with tears and groans she proceeded to relate 
 how in the thick of battle, and in terror for her life, not 
 knowing where to turn or how to conduct herself, she drew 
 her sword in defense against the enemy who pressed close upon 
 her, and before she knew what had chanced, she had laid two 
 of the foremost dead at her feet. She could not forget the 
 sight of the welling blood, the distorted faces, and the agony 
 of the dying ; and she believed that the curse of Cain must 
 henceforth rest upon her. Being attacked by a low fever 
 which resulted from her distress of mind, she obtained permis 
 sion from the Pope to return to France, and carry on the war 
 against the English, to which she was urged by frequent dis 
 patches from the Marshal de Retz. In command of the soldiers 
 of the marshal she greatly distinguished herself in the war on 
 the borders of Poitou and Guyenne, and was everywhere re 
 ceived with acclaim and reverence ; until the fatal time arrived 
 when this evil man, emboldened by success and blind to his 
 danger, agreed to put everything to the test, and to subject the 
 pretender to the scrutiny of the people of Orleans, and even to 
 a meeting with the king. The result to her was shame and 
 ruin ; to me, grief and woe. Pray for me, brothers, who read 
 this confession ; for as one awakes to knowledge of an unseen 
 gulf beneath his feet, so I learned at last my weakness, hitherto 
 concealed and unsuspected. By the lightening-stroke of God's 
 revelation, it was shown me that I had kept a hopeless love for 
 the woman hidden beneath my priestly interest in the penitent. 
 My counsels had lead her astray; and in abetting the impos-
 
 276 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUK-DE-L1S. 
 
 ture I was guilty, not only of all that my conscience had ad 
 mitted, but also of a satisfaction in the sinful tie that bound 
 us each to the other in a common conspiracy against the truth. 
 Pity me, my brothers, and beseech God's mercy upon me ; and 
 let each of you make the prayer of the Psalmist his own : 
 Lord, cleanse thou me from my secret faults."
 
 THE LADY OF BEAUTE. 277 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE LADY OF BEAUTE. 
 
 iGNES SOREL, in the enjoyment of sat 
 isfied ambitions and gratified vanity, 
 was conscious of a secret vexation 
 which clouded her serenity. She rec 
 ognized a rival whose political in 
 fluence threatened to eclipse her own ; although her 
 position at court was so secure that she could afford 
 an ostentatious humility, and a generous indifference 
 to the oscillations of the royal favor, which returned 
 as constantly to her as the needle to the pole. Ambi 
 tion, however, rather than any softer passion, was a 
 ruling motive with the gentle Agnes, whose demure 
 reserve hid an inflexible determination ; and she was 
 troubled by the fear that in the history of the future, 
 in which she hoped to gain an honorable place among 
 the statesmen of France, her fame would be over 
 shadowed by the glory of Jeanne Dare, whose hold 
 upon the people had never been so apparent as now, 
 when Orleans had received her with unbounded rever 
 ence and delight.
 
 278 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUK-DE-LIS. 
 
 The royal mail had brought the budget of dis 
 patches from Orleans, describing in detail the marvel 
 lous Mystery which had been enacted in honor of 
 her long-delayed reappearance in the city of her affec 
 tion. She had come from the borders of Guyenne 
 and Poitou in company with the Marshal de Retz, 
 with whom she had been associated there in her cam 
 paign against the English, leaving the further con 
 duct of hostilities in the hands of a lieutenant of 
 the marshal ; and the people of Orleans, recalling the 
 fact that De Retz had ridden beside the Maid on 
 her first triumphant entry into the city when she had 
 appeared as God's angel sent to the relief of its des 
 perate need, saw in the conjunction of the powerful 
 nobleman and their adored heroine cause for enthusi 
 astic rejoicing. Rich gifts were voted to the Pucelle, 
 processions and pageants were made for her recep 
 tion ; but it remained for the marshal to devise a 
 festival so superb as to be forever memorable. 
 
 In the public square, where a fountain of hippo- 
 eras spouted day and night, and rich feasts were 
 hourly spread, there was enacted a three days' per 
 formance of the Famous Mysteries representing the 
 Siege of Orleans, in which countless actors, trained 
 by long practice, reviewed the events of the famous 
 siege in the order of their occurrence. The French 
 and English fought hand to hand in the intrench-
 
 THE LADY OF BEAUTE. 279 
 
 merits; one by one the fortifications of the enemy 
 were overthrown ; victory followed the standard of 
 the Maid ; angels with shining wings, unobserved by 
 the combatants, mingled with the defenders of the 
 city, directing all to their good; while high aloft in 
 a Paradise, represented by an upper stage blazing 
 with gold and illuminated with wonderful colored 
 lights, holy personages were seen, and voices sounded 
 to encourage the heroine in her work : Fille De va, va, 
 va ; je serai a ton aide. 
 
 Choruses of angels sang triumphant pseans, when 
 on the third day of the Mystery the final overthrow 
 of the English was represented to the delight of the 
 spectators. The Pucelle herself, who had watched 
 the show from a pavilion hung with cloth-of-gold, 
 where she sat in company with the marshal and the 
 dignitaries of Orleans, now mounted her war-horse, 
 and rode at the head of the mimic saviours of the 
 city three times round its walls ; while the people, 
 moved to tears by this visible repetition of the great 
 est miracle of modern times, fell upon their knees 
 in her path, and kissed her feet and the housings of 
 her charger, and blessed God for his mercy. The 
 festivities of the week, it was said, cost the mar 
 shal eighty thousand crowns ; but his generosity to 
 the Pucelle won him a popularity he had never 
 before enjoyed, and which greatly disconcerted the 
 malevolent designs of his enemies.
 
 280 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 The fair Agnes one day sat musing in the midst 
 of a chattering group of gay damsels who were intent 
 on the preparations for a series of fetes to be given 
 the following week in the castle of Loches. Her 
 revery was respected in so far that no one openly 
 addressed her ; though many sly glances and covert 
 innuendoes were directed towards her, most of which 
 she allowed to pass unnoticed. Suddenly her atten 
 tion became alert; and without raising her eyes or 
 changing her attitude, she listened eagerly. 
 
 " The knight of the lily will not be there, I wager," 
 said one, " unless we can persuade the Pucelle to 
 come in person from Orleans to attend our fete ; 
 which would seem but a poor thing to her after the 
 magnificence she has enjoyed there ; greater, they say, 
 than was displayed in honor of the king's entrance 
 into Paris." 
 
 " I once asked this same melancholy knight," re 
 joined a companion, " why, when he is so ardent an 
 admirer of the Pucelle, he should make no endeavor 
 to meet her and win her favor. He replied that he 
 worshipped a spirit, and not an earthly being ; nor 
 would he dare to aspire so high as to hope for the 
 love of the Maid of Orleans." 
 
 " He might aspire even higher, if he had daring 
 equal to his merits," thought Agnes, while a blush 
 mounted to her forehead. She rose, and quickly left 
 the room.
 
 THE LADY OF BEAUTE. 281 
 
 One gay damsel sharply nudged the other with her 
 elbow. 
 
 " I have it on the word of the Sire de Beuil that 
 the lady of the lamb made advances to the knight 
 of the lily, and was repulsed," she whispered. 
 
 " What could one expect from a monkish vision 
 ary, who spends his days in meditation and his nights 
 in prayer ? " was the answer. 
 
 Charles of Valois was engaged in an interesting 
 game of dice with his brother-in-law, the Prince of 
 Anjou, when a perfumed note was handed to him, 
 sealed with the device of a lamb. Charles d'Anjou 
 discreetly withdrew his eyes while his royal brother 
 made haste to master its contents, which, although in 
 an unfamiliar cipher, may be thus translated : 
 
 " Are you aware that the so-called Jeanne Dare, or du Lis, or 
 Des Armoises, the Pucelle, has been greeted with more honor 
 in Orleans than you in Paris ; and that her renown threatens 
 to eclipse your own? If you love me, order her immediate at 
 tendance at court, where, if she be an impostor, as some still 
 maintain, I will soon find means to discover the fact. We have 
 too long delayed in taking a decided course either to sanction or 
 discredit her claims." 
 
 Later in the same day the lady Agnes sent an in 
 vitation to the young nobleman who went by the 
 name of Sire Roger d'Arblay, a name which every one 
 judged to be assumed, as was also his coat of arms, a
 
 282 THE SHIELD OP THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 shield or , bearing a single lily gules, with the crest, a 
 two-handled sword, and the device, / bide my time. 
 
 The heralds of the court were greatly vexed by 
 their inability to penetrate the disguise ; and the 
 ladies, while interested in the mystery that surrounded 
 him, and enamoured of his handsome face, were dis 
 pleased by his insensibility to their charms, and the 
 eccentricity of his behavior. He declared himself to 
 be the knight of the Pucelle, dwelling in the world 
 as if it were a hermitage, and counting all its joys 
 but phantom allurements which had no charm for 
 his consecrated spirit. It was said that he had passed 
 whole nights upon his knees before the altar of the 
 church of St. Catherine of Fierbois, and that he had 
 made a pilgrimage to every place in the itinerary of 
 the Pucelle, as one might visit the stations of the 
 Cross. Yet so shy was his nature, and so unpractical 
 his fantastic mania, that he had never once, as he 
 acknowledged, met the Pucelle face to face. He 
 made no offer of his sword to her command when 
 she undertook the siege of Mans with the troops of 
 the Marshal de Retz ; he did not visit Orleans when 
 people for leagues around had crowded its streets to 
 witness her re-entrance and the magnificent festivities 
 which celebrated it. 
 
 Agnes Sorel, to whom he had been commended by 
 the bishop of Nantes, had introduced him at court,
 
 THE LADY OF BEAUTE. 283 
 
 and looked for his gratitude and admiration as her 
 due reward. She was much chagrined to find that 
 his indifference was genuine, and not to be over 
 come. Piqued by his disdain, she attempted with 
 the instinct of coquetry to bring him to her feet, 
 finding it a design of more serious consequence than 
 she had at first intended. Her volatile fancy, capri 
 cious in affairs of the heart, was impressed by a genu 
 ine admiration for a nature so different from her own 
 as to be capable of an ideal enthusiasm. 
 
 Little by little she found herself involved in the 
 toils which she had prepared for another ; and though 
 she would not acknowledge to herself that the satis 
 faction of her whim was more than a summer day's 
 pastime, it became, for the time at least, an engross 
 ing purpose. 
 
 The invitation which summoned the disguised knight 
 to a conference with the chief lady of the court was 
 not unwelcome to him, since for reasons of his own 
 he was anxious to secure her powerful co-operation. 
 I^e met her in the garden, where she awaited him 
 in a retired spot known to be secure from intrusion, 
 being reserved for the use of Queen Marie and the 
 dowager-queen of Sicily, and such of their circle as 
 they chose to make free of it. 
 
 Des Armoises, whom the reader may know by the 
 name which he had forever discarded, found the lady
 
 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUB-DE-LIS. 
 
 of Beaute* pacing up and down a sequestered alley, 
 with an attendant whom she immediately dismissed, 
 allowing the young man to take his place at her side. 
 Her countenance was grave and serene, though her 
 color came and went as if she were secretly agi 
 tated. 
 
 "I wish to consult you, my lord," she said, "upon 
 an affair of such consequence that I have not breathed 
 it to a living soul. Hoping that I may trust your 
 friendship for me," Des Armoises took no advantage 
 of the pause she offered here, and she proceeded in 
 vexation, " or, at least, your honor to keep sacred 
 the confidence I give you," here he made a motion 
 of assent, "I have summoned you to this interview, 
 not only as a mark of my regard, insensible ingrate," 
 she added inwardly, " but also out of consideration 
 for your declared passion for the Pucelle." 
 
 " That is not the word to describe the spiritualized 
 adoration which I have kept as the only affection in 
 a heart of stone," he replied. 
 
 Agnes sighed softly. "It is the first time that I 
 have heard you acknowledge that of which I was 
 only too conscious," she said. "Pray tell me, messire, 
 how it can chance that beneath so friendly an exterior 
 you can carry so hard a heart." 
 
 " I will tell you," he answered quickly. " Betrayed 
 by a beloved wife, I placed all my affection upon the
 
 THE LADY OF BEAUTE. 285 
 
 children she had left me ; and when I received the 
 news of their sudden death by drowning, I became 
 a desperate man. Journeying from Lorraine to Brit 
 tany in pursuit of the only object in life remaining to 
 me, revenge, I passed the church of St. Catherine at 
 Fierbois ; and recollecting that the Pucelle had once 
 visited it with a miraculous result, I entered it and 
 by chance fell asleep there. I had a vision in my 
 slumber in which it appeared to me that a gracious 
 being offered me an immortal love on condition that 
 I should keep my heart free from earthly passion. 
 The atmosphere she breathed was that of lilies intoxi 
 cating in their sweetness ; and the joy of the serene 
 light of Paradise that shone about her remained with 
 me when I woke. It seemed that this beautiful vision 
 had the face and form of the Pucelle, and that night 
 upon my knees before the altar, I devoted my heart 
 and life to her service, vowing to live henceforth as 
 free as Sir Galahad from snares of love." 
 
 The lady of Beaute" frowned, and bit her lip. " You 
 are devising a pretty fable with a moral concealed in 
 it, as nauseous drugs are given disguised in jelly," she 
 said with a shrill laugh. "But I assure you that 
 vanity deceives you if you think that I am in need 
 of its teaching." 
 
 " Heaven bears me witness that I had no such 
 thought," he answered gravely, with a searching glance
 
 286 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 that caused the lady the chagrin of wounded self-esteem ; 
 and turned her fancy for him into bitter hatred. 
 
 " Tell me, at least, who is the foe you went to seek 
 in Brittany." she said, endeavoring to recover her 
 self-possession. 
 
 " The Marshal de Retz," he answered. "I jour 
 neyed there in the hope of obtaining information 
 against him." 
 
 In a moment the Agnes of frivolous caprice became 
 the Agnes of cold deliberation, a statesman intent 
 on a far-reaching purpose. 
 
 " The Bishop of Nantes, as you know, is my friend," 
 she said. " By that you may guess that the marshal 
 is my enemy. Tell me what you may have gathered 
 against him." 
 
 " Allow me to delay obedience until I hear what 
 you mean to communicate to me concerning the 
 Pucelle," he answered. 
 
 She hesitated. " I know not how far I may trust 
 you," she said. " I have for some time cherished 
 the conviction that this Jeanne des Armoises may be 
 a pretender, gaining credit by a deception which is 
 an advantage to those who abet her. The Marshal 
 de Retz has been her sole supporter among the 
 nobles of the court. He is high in the king's favor, 
 and I have not been able to undermine his influ 
 ence. His wealth is boundless, and they say he deals
 
 THE LADY OF BEAUTE. 287 
 
 in the black art. To test the matter, Jeanne is to 
 be summoned immediately to court" Des Armoises 
 started, " and on the occasion of the ball at the 
 castle, she is to be confronted with the king. If she 
 is a pretender, there is one crucial test which she 
 cannot endure. The king will ask her to tell him 
 the secret that was between him and the Maid. Only 
 two people in France know this secret; and, unless 
 she is the true Jeanne, she can give no answer to 
 the question." 
 
 Des Armoises was greatly agitated ; but he en 
 deavored to speak calmly as he said, "All things 
 have their end; and the purpose of God may be 
 guiding the- event towards the exposure of an im 
 postor. I have learned to believe that this is a 
 necessary condition to the overthrow of the marshal." 
 
 " We are in accord, then," said Agnes, giving 
 him her hand. " Let us swear fealty to a common 
 purpose." 
 
 Des Armoises took the . proffered hand, but quickly 
 relinquished it, and stood with downcast head, strug 
 gling with himself. Duty had taken a double shape, 
 and was beckoning him to contrary resolutions. At 
 last he said, "If that test should fail, I will tell you 
 of another which may serve the purpose. Tell the 
 supposed Pucelle that her husband is dead ; that you 
 have met a friend of his who was with him in his
 
 288 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUli-DE-LIS. 
 
 last moments. Cause her to believe this, and you 
 will bring her to confession." 
 
 Agnes looked at him keenly as she said, " I will 
 remember the suggestion. In return for my con 
 fidence, I will ask you to tell me what evidence you 
 may have succeeded in gathering against the marshal. 
 The Bishop of Nantes, who is his implacable enemy, 
 would surely have aided you in this." 
 
 What Des Armoises replied did not transpire until 
 the same evidence, in the mouths of others eager to 
 overwhelm a fallen foe, secured damning judgment 
 against the man, the public avowal of whose crimes 
 awoke incredulous horror in the fiercest and most 
 hardened spirits of that blood-stained age. 
 
 Meantime, the marshal, secure in a delusive pros 
 perity that contained no hint of coming ruin, saw, 
 in the summoning of the Pucelle to court, the crown 
 ing of his hopes. Once let her gain the confi 
 dence of the credulous king, and he believed that 
 her influence could be extended until it should rival 
 that of the vacillating monarch's most trusted advi 
 sers; perhaps deposing them to admit the reign of a 
 new favorite, who should be guided by the counsels 
 of the Marshal de Retz, thus allowing him to become 
 what La Tre'moille once had been, the power behind 
 the throne, the true ruler of France.
 
 DISCOVERY. 289 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 DISCOVERY. 
 
 CLAUDE had become an automaton 
 moved by another's will ; and life to 
 her was a succession of fevered days 
 and nights, through which she passed 
 sustained only by an illusive hope, 
 as the traveller in the desert is cheered by a mock 
 ing mirage. That she could ever regain her lost 
 happiness became more and more impossible, even 
 as a dream ; and, at the suggestion of despair, a 
 yawning gulf seemed to open at her feet. A tempter 
 was ever at her side, ready, with plausible fallacies, 
 to prove good evil and evil good, and to confuse 
 expediency with justice. Resist his power as she 
 might, his constant presence was in itself a baleful 
 influence ; for the atmosphere of personality with 
 which each soul unconsciously invests itself, was, in 
 the case of Gilles de Laval, tainted with the very 
 breath of hell. Handsome, learned, rich, and power 
 ful, he was able to deceive even himself with the 
 convincing argument of success. He would have
 
 290 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUK-DE-LIS. 
 
 Claude believe that happiness is to be found only in 
 gratified ambition; the difference between high and 
 low, rich and poor, consisting only in the varying 
 degrees with which men have been endowed with 
 ability to attain dominion over their fellows. 
 
 Love he defined as a passion in which one must 
 give all, and in the end lose all, constancy being an 
 empty dream, and the soul that remains master of 
 itself being the only one able to escape the wreck 
 of its illusions. He ridiculed Claude's fidelity to a 
 past that had no more concern with the actual mo 
 ment than the forgotten loves of the Pharaohs, a 
 past hour being as inevitably lost as a past century, 
 and he endeavored to impress upon her his belief 
 in the all-sufficing character of the present. He de 
 clared that an evil angel had gifted man with hope 
 and memory, the foes of joy ; and that he who would 
 truly realize contentment must be able to detach 
 his heart from all outside of the passing hour. The 
 intellect, that higher and more spiritual part of man, 
 might busy itself with the concerns of the future ; for 
 it was as unimpressible as fire, and of the same ethe 
 real quality. Ambition thus became the highest duty, 
 and would lead the soul from sphere to sphere through 
 all the celestial mansions of eternity. 
 
 According to his philosophy, Claude was happy in 
 that she had risen from the obscure station of a peas-
 
 DISCOVERY. 291 
 
 ant girl, a servant, to that of the companion of princes. 
 When the long-desired invitation came from the royal 
 court, he became more daring in his speculations. He 
 told his pupil that the tickle king was weary of the 
 counsellors furnished him, and the mistress chosen for 
 him by his mother-in-law, Queen Yolande. Boldness 
 and resolution were all that was necessary to effect 
 another revolution at court, and to depose the present 
 favorites from their unstable positions. Let Charles 
 of Valois and Jeanne of Orleans join hands in com 
 pleting the salvation of the kingdom, and all France 
 would prostrate herself before her rightful monarch, 
 who would become the Charlemagne of his time. 
 
 Claude listened un protesting: for, when with the 
 marshal, she felt like the fascinated victim of a py 
 thon's benumbing influence ; and she realized, that, 
 without a heaven-sent succor, she could not escape a 
 complete and final surrender. The thought of her 
 children's death was like the pang of a two-edged 
 sword. In the night-time her ears were haunted by 
 the bubbling cries which the cruel waters of the Mo 
 selle had stilled forever. The nurse with her charge 
 had been swept overboard in an accident which had 
 occurred to the boat in which the journey had been 
 made to Toui.; and. although the dead body of the 
 woman had been recovered, the children's little forms 
 could never rest in holy ground. Father Ambrose
 
 292 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 assured her that their innocent souls were safe in the 
 keeping of the angels of God; but Claude was sure 
 that those strong and sinless guardians could never 
 give such love as mothers learn in agonizing pain. 
 The feeble little souls, strangers in paradise, needed 
 her care. She must keep herself worthy that she 
 might go to them. 
 
 This was the influence which fortified her with in 
 ward resistance, giving her the consciousness of a 
 latent strength, which, if aroused, might make the 
 the marshal's resolution quail before her own. The 
 visit to Loches was to mark a crisis in her fate, but 
 not with the result that De Retz triumphantly fore 
 told. She believed that, once in the presence of the 
 king, she should find courage to implore his protec 
 tion, confess the imposture, and leave the result with 
 the God who hates a lie and the mafcer of it. 
 
 In lonely hours of prayer and vigil she had reached 
 this determination. It seemed to her that the true 
 Jeanne, as an unseen influence, was urging her to it; 
 the voices of her children and their angelic guardians 
 enjoined it, as did also a less exalted motive a 
 deadly hatred of the marshal, to whom exposure 
 would mean ruin. 
 
 The promptings of conscience, howgver, were op 
 posed by those of a passionate love. Des Armoises had 
 promised to receive her when she should have reached
 
 DISCOVERY. 293 
 
 the height of fame where the true Jeanne had stood. 
 Was not the present that moment of success to which 
 she had appealed ? the hope of which had fortified her 
 through hardship and peril, amid scenes of bloodshed 
 at which her woman's nature revolted, in times of weak 
 ness and despair, when it had shone as the only star 
 in the blackness of her night. Must she relinquish 
 this hope at the moment of its fruition? Love pre 
 vailed, and kept her silent when the marshal talked of 
 wealth and glory, a seat near the throne, and triumphs 
 before which the memory of Orleans must pale. 
 
 The banquet hall at Loches was ablaze with count 
 less candles, hung in glittering candelabra, and gay with 
 costly decorations for the royal fete, the expenditures 
 for which might have assisted in the payment of the 
 arrears of which the soldiers in the army so bitterly 
 complained. The dance went on no less merrily at 
 Loches, that in the farther provinces of France tears 
 and blood flowed, and hands were raised in vain appeal 
 by the tortured and oppressed. He who takes wide 
 views of life may always find subject for lament; and 
 the courtiers, by limiting their sympathies, extended 
 the play of those faculties which flourish best in the 
 atmosphere x>f royal salons, wit and persiflage, and 
 the humorous appreciation of those subtler shades of 
 thought and fancy which go unnoticed by the common
 
 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 herd. There were profound thinkers, subtle reasoners, 
 and deep philosophers at the court of Charles the Well- 
 served, restless minds with whom action translated 
 itself into intrigue and subterfuge, who lived in secret 
 distrust of their friends, and in smiling hatred of their 
 enemies. Power was the god to whom these plotters 
 sacrificed; and love, honor, decorum, modesty, were 
 some of the votive gifts that decked his altar. 
 
 It was a busy world, sufficient unto itself ; and Jeanne 
 of Domrdmy had not been welcome there when she 
 came from her spindle and distaff to claim the sword 
 and banner of a commander in the war. Her return 
 was even more unwelcome, exciting a malevolent activ 
 ity like that which greets the intrusion of a wasp into 
 a hive of bees. Agnes Sorel was the only one who 
 manifested no concern or distrust, but prepared with 
 whole-souled generosity to welcome the Pucelle. She 
 relinquished to her service her suite of apartments 
 near those of the queen, and deputed her most trusted 
 maids to attend her. She laid aside the regal splendor 
 which she. had of late assumed, in favor of the simple 
 fashions which she had first brought to court in the 
 train of the Duchess Isabel. It pleased her to remem 
 ber that she was, in a sense, the daughter of Lor 
 raine ; and she greeted the Pucelle as a sister, and 
 one with her in love of France. 
 
 De Retz smiled grimly when he saw the gentle
 
 DISCOVERY. 295 
 
 Agnes with her arm about Claude's waist, pacing with 
 her up and down a garden alley. 
 
 " Is it that you feel an instinctive dread of a rival, 
 my Lady of BeauteY' he said under his breath, " and 
 are taking means to ingratiate yourself with her before 
 the storm breaks upon your lovely head?" 
 
 Bewildered by the confusion and glitter of the new 
 world in which she found herself, Claude clung instinc 
 tively to the only friendly hand outstretched to her; 
 and she responded warmly to the advances made by 
 the lovely lady, whose beauty seemed second only to 
 her goodness and kindness of heart. The king, with 
 characteristic procrastination, put off the decisive meet 
 ing from day to day; and Agnes took advantage of 
 the time afforded her to win the confidence of her 
 whom, she could not yet determine to be other than 
 the true Jeanne Dare. Every question as to her 
 past elicited frank and characteristic responses ; each 
 of her old companions at arms who was introduced 
 to her presence she greeted by name without hesita 
 tion; and no one dared to express the bewildering 
 doubt in which they were left as to the reality of 
 that which their senses witnessed. 
 
 The Lady of Beauts' did not realize that against her 
 shrewd inquisition there was pitted the determination 
 of a loving woman, conscious that the crucial moment 
 of her fate had come ; and the desperate resolve of
 
 296 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 an ambitious man, who knew that for years powerful 
 foes had been slowly but surely drawing a net about 
 his feet. The marshal, assisted by his confessor, the 
 Italian Francois, was alive to every movement of sus 
 picion, and every scheme for discovery which the rest 
 less ingenuity of her enemies could devise. Smiles he 
 knew were more dangerous than frowns ; and he warned 
 Claude to be especially on her guard against the blue- 
 eyed lady whose charming simplicity had so greatly 
 attracted her. 
 
 "Give her no confidence," he said. "Eat nothing 
 that comes to you from her hand. I have known 
 poison to be conveyed in a sweetmeat taken from one 
 lady's plate to be placed upon that of a rival seated at 
 her side. Believe nothing 'that your ears and eyes 
 advise you of. Remember only my instructions, and 
 look to me or to Francois in every moment of doubt. 
 For the meeting with the king, I have already prepared 
 you; fail not then, and you are forever secure." 
 
 Claude thought of these words when she felt the arm 
 of the Lady of Beaute* about her waist ; but she could 
 not distrust the clear eyes and frank countenance of 
 her whom she believed to be greatly injured by slan 
 derous tongues, since after the confidences which 
 Agnes had given her it was impossible to agree in the 
 world's uncharitable interpretation of her position at 
 the court.
 
 DISCOVERY. 297 
 
 She professed an ardent devotion to her royal mis 
 tress, whose sweetness and generosity she much ex 
 tolled; and for the king she had a reverent admiration, 
 which, when first she came to court, she had expressed 
 with a frankness that awakened comment of a sort she 
 had not dreamed of. 
 
 " Bravery, tempered with prudence, unswerving de 
 votion to a losing cause, cheerfulness in adversity; 
 these things I recognized in him, and they seemed to 
 me to be worthy of a king. Since then he has grown 
 in statesmanship and the powers that make a leader of 
 men. Shall I withdraw myself from the confidence 
 reposed in me by both my royal patrons because evil- 
 minded people judge all others by themselves? " 
 
 Before Claude was aware that she was incautiously 
 disregarding the marshal's warning, she had opened 
 her heart to her new friend, whose curious inquiries 
 as to the mystery concerning her marriage and separa 
 tion from her husband, she had not been able altogether 
 to escape, since they were dictated, Agnes assured her, 
 i>y a sincere desire that the Pucelle should take the 
 place she deserved as the saviour of the kingdom. 
 " The king delays to receive you," Agnes declared, 
 "because of the scandalous rumors that have come to 
 us from Metz, and which he is unwilling to entertain 
 in spite of the mystery that surrounds that portion of 
 your history. Tell me as a friend how it was you
 
 298 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 came to marry. Was it from love or from am 
 bition?" 
 
 Tims questioned, Claude unburdened her heart as far 
 as was possible without betraying her secret, finding 
 relief in the opportunity thus given her to relate the 
 thoughts and memories upon which her fancy fed. 
 
 " Tell me what sort of a man was this wondrously 
 perfect Sire Des Armoises," said Agnes lightly. " Had 
 he blue eyes or dark? was he hard favored or with a 
 womanish beauty ? I am curious to know ; for when 
 you tell me that he was the handsomest man in the 
 world I say ' no ' to that, for I have seen a man with 
 a face like an angel." 
 
 Claude, with a look of sad abstraction, began a de 
 scription of the face and form which still haunted her 
 dreams ; and Agnes listened with a suddenly awakened 
 suspicion, which, upon reflection, grew to an obvious 
 certainty. She felt a cruel satisfaction in a thought 
 which lent to her blue eyes a steely glitter, and caused 
 the sensuous curves of her mouth to harden into lines 
 that betrayed an implacable resolve. 
 
 "I shall have revenge, my knight of the lily," she 
 thought; "a full and complete revenge. What you 
 say serves to remind me," she remarked, " that I have 
 once met the man whom you describe." Claude started 
 with quick emotion. " I recall to mind that his name 
 was the same. It had escaped my memory, for I met
 
 DISCOVERY. 299 
 
 him under circumstances which I was willino- to for- 
 
 o 
 
 get." Claude pressed her hand upon her heart. " Tell 
 me how you chanced to meet," she said. 
 
 "No; that I cannot do," replied Agnes, measuring 
 her listener with a keen, unfriendly glance. "When 
 last I heard from him he was desperately ill, and sent 
 to urge from me a favor which I could not grant. 
 How his illness resulted, whether he lived or died, I 
 do not know." 
 
 " Not know but that he may be dead ! " cried Claude. 
 " Cruel, heartless woman, I must believe all that I have 
 ever heard against you ! You have been assuming a 
 pretence of friendship to torture me thus at last." 
 
 " If it interests you, I can learn all that you 
 may choose to hear from an intimate friend of his 
 who is at present in Loch'es," said Agnes coldly, dis 
 regarding the injurious implication that brought the 
 quick color to her face. 
 
 "I would give all that I have for any word from 
 him," said Claude, her tone changing to one of humble 
 entreaty, "and I would thank you on my knees." 
 
 " This evening, in the ballroom, I will send you 
 word of what I may discover. The king will grant you 
 an audience to-night." So saying, the Lady of Beaute 
 turned and walked away with an air of indifference, 
 leaving the pretender overwhelmed by distress and 
 doubt. The strange change in the lady's manner and
 
 300 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUK-DE-LIS. 
 
 the inconsistencies apparent in her words, awoke pain 
 ful suspicions of the sincerity of her friendship ; and 
 the consciousness that the dreaded moment of the 
 royal audience could no longer be postponed caused 
 Claude's heart to sink with apprehension. 
 
 The reference to her husband had filled her with 
 mingled hope and fear, hope of a possible meeting, 
 and fear that the lady's sinister hints might hide some 
 painful tfuth. Her previous efforts to discover news 
 of Des Armoises had been rewarded only in one in 
 stance, when Ambrose, journeying upon an aimless 
 pilgrimage, with no other purpose than to fulfil her 
 ardent wish, had come across Sire Des Armoises kneel 
 ing at night before a shrine in the cathedral of Reims. 
 When addressed, he had risen in confusion and without 
 reply, and hastening to mount his horse, had disap 
 peared in the darkness. This circumstance made it 
 evident that his persistent silence was no argument 
 against his well-being, while it showed only too plainly 
 the hopeless alienation of his affection. 
 
 A. fete champetre had been arranged for the evening; 
 and the beautiful gardens, to whose adornment the 
 king had devoted his attention while the fate of his 
 kingdom was hanging in the balance, were full of a 
 brilliant throng, among whom the Pucelle entered 
 trembling, conducted by a lord of the bedchamber. 
 
 A vast arbor, hung with glittering candelabra which
 
 DISCOVERY. 301 
 
 showed like magnified fire-flies through the green, served 
 as audience chamber to the king ; and here a gilded 
 throne was placed beneath a trellis of roses, and seats 
 of lesser dignity were occupied by the queen and her 
 mother, surrounded by the most distinguished nobles 
 of the court. Charles d'Anjou,. dressed to represent 
 his royal brother-in-law, sat upon the throne; and as 
 Claude approached, he rose, and advanced a step to 
 meet her. 
 
 "His Highness is ready to receive you," said the 
 
 chamberlain. " Kneel and kiss his hand." 
 
 
 
 " This is not the king," responded Claude. " I beg 
 you will lead me to him." 
 
 These words produced a visible sensation in the 
 throng. 
 
 " 'Tis Jeanne herself," said one, in a voice expressive 
 of anything but satisfaction. " Just so it was contrived 
 at Chinon that she should be deluded by a false repre 
 sentation of the king, which did not for a moment 
 deceive her." 
 
 " Notice whether she will as readily detect his Royal 
 Highness," replied another. " He sits yonder in the 
 shadow with his lame foot on a cushion, and he is 
 talking to one of the queen's ladies in waiting." 
 
 " If it were with the queen herself, the disguise 
 would have been complete," said a flippant wit in a 
 whisper.
 
 302 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 Led by the chamberlain, Claude moved slowly for 
 ward, followed by an eager and curious crowd, among 
 whom, as Agnes Sorel observed, the foremost was the 
 Marshal de Retz, between whom and his protegee she 
 more than once had detected the exchange of a quick 
 glance of intelligence. 
 
 Charles turned to find the pretender on her knees 
 at his feet. She had fallen there, speechless with 
 horror, as*a piece of paper had been thrust into her 
 hand, upon which at a glance she read these words : 
 
 
 " Your husband died of the illness of which I told you. I 
 
 have the news from the friend who closed his eyes." 
 
 As if through surging waves that overwhelmed her, 
 she heard the voice of the king, who extended his hand 
 to raise her, exclaiming in a tone which betrayed the 
 credulous surprise he felt at the detection of his dis 
 guise, " Welcome, Pucelle, my good friend, in the name 
 of God who alone knows the secret that is between 
 you and me." 
 
 " God pardon me, and grant that your Highness may 
 have mercy upon me!" she cried, bursting into tears. 
 " I am not the Maid of Orleans, but an unhappy wife 
 who has driven her husband to his death, an impostor, 
 whom heaven and earth cry out against. Forgive me, 
 forgive me ; for I am a lost and stricken soul." 
 
 In aa instant the place was in an uproar. Some
 
 DISCOVERY. 303 
 
 cried treason, and drew their swords about the king 
 to defend him from they knew not what attempt of 
 his enemies ; vengeance was urged upon the trembling 
 woman, who grovelled in the agony of her grief and 
 shame; and threats were made against those who had 
 contrived the intrigue, De Retz's name in some mys 
 terious way finding utterance upon the lips of those 
 who repeated it, not knowing from whom the sugges 
 tion first had come. 
 
 As if to confirm suspicion, the marshal immediately 
 left the castle, retiring to Nantes, where he was shortly 
 afterwards arrested by the order of the Duke of Brit 
 tany, who had long been seeking an opportunity to 
 humiliate the Lavals, who occupied a threatening line 
 of fortresses on the borders of Maine, Brittany, and 
 Poitou, and formed a powerful opposition to the duke, 
 succeeding at last, in spite of the fall of De Retz, in 
 delivering the duchy to the king. 
 
 The marshal, secure in the prestige of his name, 
 made no attempt to escape his enemies, and with 
 arrogant unconcern confronted the tribunal formed 
 to try his cause, consisting of the Bishop of Nantes, 
 Chancellor of Brittany, the Vicar of the Inquisition, 
 and the grand judge of the duchy. The developments 
 of his trial caused horror throughout the country. 
 The charges of murder and sorcery were amazingly 
 verified. He was condemned to the stake ; but, in
 
 304 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUll-DE-LIS. 
 
 concession to his position and powerful connections, 
 his sentence was mitigated in that he was strangled 
 before reaching the place of execution. Before the 
 body was consumed, it was given up, at the demand 
 of his relatives, to a company of nuns led by the 
 Abbess Hilda, who, with their own hands, gave it 
 honorable burial in the church of the Carmelites, 
 which the marshal's gifts had founded. 
 
 Meantime the fate of the false Jeanne hung in the 
 balance. A council was held, consisting of the king's 
 most intimate advisers, many of whom, suspecting a 
 widespread conspiracy, were eager to visit upon the 
 pretender the severest penalties of the law. Some 
 urged the gibbet and the stake ; others a slow starva 
 tion or perpetual imprisonment ; but the king, fortified 
 by the advice of his secret and most trusted counsellor, 
 declared himself in favor of more lenient measures. 
 
 " Leave her punishment to me, my lord," Agnes 
 Sorel had said. "Is it not evident? that this imposture 
 succeeded simply because the people of France yearned 
 to believe, even against all probability, that which they 
 most desired? Jeanne Dare is, and must ever be, the 
 idol of her countrymen ; she is France incarnate, the 
 unconquerable spirit of an unselfish patriotism that is 
 deathless because divine. Let us not oppose ourselves 
 to this superstitious veneration for her name. Destroy 
 the false Jeanne, and she becomes a martyr ; shut her
 
 DISCOVERY. 305 
 
 in prison, and endless conspiracies will be undertaken 
 for her release, for it will be impossible to convince the 
 people of their error. The widest publicity must be 
 given to the exposure of the pretender. Let shame be 
 her only punishment ; it will be a sufficient one." 
 
 Claude herself was indifferent to her fate, and care 
 less of the gratitude which she was told she owed to 
 the Lady of Beaute* for her intercession in her favor. 
 Agnes, indeed, was actuated only by motives of policy, 
 and had so little compassion for her whom she sus 
 pected to be her unconscious rival that she had devised 
 one added pang for her to suffer before she went forth 
 to meet the world's execration. 
 
 Roger D'Arblay, the mysterious knight of the lily, 
 had been summoned to Nantes to appear as one of the 
 witnesses against the marshal. Before he set out he 
 had been bidden to a farewell interview with Madame 
 Agnes in her boudoir, to reach which the page who 
 conducted him contrived that he should make the 
 tour of the apartments which, with sarcastic gener 
 osity, Agnes still allowed to the occupancy of the 
 false Jeanne, and where, in the midst of splendor, she 
 was now a dreary prisoner. 
 
 The room where she sat was full of chattering ladies, 
 who made it their practice to spend their mornings 
 there in the pretense of executing a large tapestry 
 which Agnes had devised to celebrate the exploits of
 
 306 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 the Maid of Orleans, but in reality to satisfy both 
 their curiosity and their malice to the full extent of 
 their opportunity. Claude could not escape the sound 
 of their unfriendly voices, the sword thrusts of their 
 premeditated witticisms and impertinent questionings. 
 Agnes, who sometimes entered to superintend their 
 needlework, would curl her lips in a smile of scorn 
 ful amusement, which was encouragement enough for 
 the license of her ladies' tongues. 
 
 On the morning in question every seat was occu 
 pied, and the work went on with feverish energy, 
 while eyes and ears were strained and alert, until, at 
 the opening of the farther door, conversation was sud 
 denly suspended. 
 
 " This way, my lord," said the page, who wore the 
 liveries of Madame Agnes, " my lady is expecting 
 you." 
 
 The pretender sat near a window in an attitude of 
 listless dejection, which changed-, as she turned to 
 observe the young man thus addressed, into excited 
 amazement. She rose and stood with one trembling 
 hand upon the arm of her chair, while she extended 
 the other as if to invoke a phantom, her eyes dilated, 
 her lips trembling. As the young man approached she 
 took a step forward. " Robert ! " she exclaimed under 
 her breath. He looked up and their eyes met. He 
 hesitated, colored violently, made a motion as if he
 
 DISCOVERY. 307 
 
 were about to speak, and then went on his way in 
 silence. 
 
 As Claude sank half-fainting into her seat, a shrill 
 burst of laughter came from a lady who bent towards 
 her and whispered in N her ear, "It is in vain that 
 you try to win his notice. He has long been the 
 dear friend of my lady Agnes. Could you hope to 
 be her rival, even if he were your husband?" 
 
 " My husband ! How can you know that ? " ex 
 claimed Claude, with blanching lips. 
 
 " He told my lady the truth concerning you before 
 it came to light in any other way," was the reply ; 
 "and he begged her to deceive you by the rumor of 
 his death, saying that he would not for the world 
 meet an exposed impostor, who might claim to be 
 his wife." 
 
 That day sentence was pronounced against the 
 false Jeanne ; and, though she begged for death and 
 rejected mercy, it consisted only in this, that she 
 should be taken to the capital of the kingdom, and 
 there showed in a public place to all the people, 
 while she should make confession of her condition 
 and estate, and of the foul imposture which she had 
 devised under pretense of being the Pucelle, whereby 
 many had been deceived; the same accusation and 
 confession being made in every city where she should 
 sojourn on the route to Paris.
 
 308 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE REVIEW OF THE BASOCHE. 
 
 summer morning Paris awoke to the 
 pleasing consciousness of an impend 
 ing festivity, the expectation of which 
 caused the desolation of the past to 
 be forgotten. Only two years pre 
 viously wolves had entered the plague-stricken city, 
 and had devoured the dead and dying in the streets; 
 now the light-hearted gayety of the Parisians asserted 
 itself, and, on a day given up to a diversion so dear 
 to them, a public festival, decreed that none should 
 mourn. The clerks of the Basoche were once more to 
 delight the eyes of their countrymen by their grand 
 annual parade, which was of late fallen into desuetude, 
 in consequence of the unfortunate state of public 
 affairs, but now to be revived with more than cus 
 tomary splendor, and to be followed, as in former days, 
 by the popular farce which it had been their habit 
 to perform quarterly, in ridicule of king, priest, and 
 noble, and all the established institutions of the state. 
 The license of speech tolerated on these occasions,
 
 THE REVIEW OF THE BASOCHE. 309 
 
 rather than the merit of the performance, won the 
 applause of the populace, whose slumbering grudge 
 against the oppressions of the great thus found voice, 
 and the Basochiens ruled four days in the year by 
 the suffrages of the people. 
 
 For a week the members of ihe order had been 
 assembling at the national capital from all parts of 
 the country, each band being under the command of 
 its lieutenant, and distinguished by a particular badge, 
 significant of the province or city to which it be 
 longed. The rallying place for the day was the 
 square before the Palace of Justice, where, reviving 
 a former custom, they had that year planted the May ; 
 and towards this point the troops directed their course 
 at early dawn. 
 
 The indolent bourgeois who did not rise with the 
 sun had his sleep disturbed by the loud fanfares of 
 trumpets discordantly sounded, and accompanied by 
 the beat of drums and the shrill sound of fifes and 
 hautboys. Every musical company in the city, being 
 temporarily under the orders of the Kingdom of the 
 Basoche, was displaying an earnest endeavor to win 
 distinction by outdoing the sound of every other. 
 The result caused him who heard it to fling his cap 
 into the air, or in some equally lively way to display 
 his satisfaction, while exclaiming, " La Basoche ! It 
 is the day of the review."
 
 310 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 The companies defiled in military order through 
 the streets, mounted upon horses whose housings 
 showed the color of their riders' garments, blue or 
 yellow, or a parti-colored mixture of the two. The 
 leader of each company bore a standard, to which was 
 attached a piece of vellum painted with the design 
 which the members of his command wore on the 
 shoulder. With some it was a cwur-de-lis, emblem 
 of Orleans ; with others from the same region of the 
 Loire, a prickly porcupine. One loyal troop bore the 
 golden sun, the device of Charles of Valois. The 
 assistants of the commander-in-chief were known - by 
 the ivy wreath, the especial device of the order. 
 
 The forming of the procession was assisted by these 
 special marks, which enabled each member to report 
 to his own lieutenant ; who, in turn, placed himself 
 under the command of one or another of the twelve 
 captains, who divided the forces into as many bri 
 gades ; and these being reinforced by accessions from 
 the clerks of the Parliament and Chatelet as they 
 proceeded, became a formidable host before they 
 reached the meeting-place. 
 
 Tli3 king of the Basoche sat upon a throne on a 
 platform erected in the centre of the palace yard. He 
 wore a blue velvet mantle, sewn with golden fleurs- 
 de-lis, over a robe of yellow satin brocaded with blue 
 ivy leaves. The rich tapestry which covered the plat-
 
 THE REVIEW OF THE BASOCHE. 311 
 
 form was worked to display the arms of the order. 
 The king held the sceptre of office in his hand; and, 
 as each company defiled before him, he lowered it 
 with a gesture of regal condescension to acknowledge 
 the salute of the captain. Mounted heralds were busy 
 on all sides in repressing the efforts of the populace 
 to gain possession of coveted positions within the 
 courtyard for the observation of the show. The 
 clamor of the multitude, and the successive strains 
 of twelve musical companies as they circled through 
 the square, produced a deafening hubbub. 
 
 When all his subjects had passed in review before 
 him, the king laid aside his mantle, mounted a mettle 
 some charger that stood waiting, and, seizing a cornet, 
 led the way in a wild chase through the city, fol 
 lowed by his twelve companies, each member of which 
 was blowing a horn or beating a drum. In the order 
 of their rank they visited the houses of the first 
 and second presidents of the Chamber, the attorney- 
 general, the chancellor, the deputies and councillors, 
 and officers of the king. Each, in turn, was greeted 
 with an alarum from eight hundred instruments, and 
 a shout from as many throats; after which the 
 Basochiens came back in a mad race to the palace. 
 
 It was sauve qui pent with the crowd in the streets, 
 when, now here, now there, a drum or a trumpet 
 announced a flying squad of horsemen, whose aim it
 
 312 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 was to reach, before all others, the goal marked by 
 the oak-tree planted the first of May, in honor of the 
 Basoche, at the foot of the great staircase of the palace. 
 Here all dismounted, hung their badges on the tree, 
 and disbanded to prepare for the performance of the 
 farce. 
 
 In the crowded condition of the thoroughfares, a 
 new procession, making its way in the direction of 
 the University, found it difficult to proceed, though 
 the armed soldiers who rode in it demanded place 
 in the name of the king. 
 
 " There is no king to-day in Paris but the King of 
 the Basoche," said an impertinent horseman, who, 
 under the impulse of the surging multitude, found 
 himself involuntarily disputing the passage of the 
 Rue de la Vielle Draperie. "Which reminds me," 
 he added boldly, " that it becomes my duty to arrest 
 you in the name of his Highness as treasonable in 
 truders 'without a permit in precincts sacred to his 
 authority." 
 
 The soldiers swore roundly, but, knowing the license 
 long accorded to the organization of the Basoche, 
 their leader at last consented to display to the self- 
 constituted guardian of the law the orders under 
 which he brought a prisoner from Loches to Paris. 
 This prisoner had become to so great an extent the 
 object of the curious scrutiny of the populace, that the
 
 THE REVIEW OF THE BASOCHE. 313 
 
 festival of the day and the promised farce bade fair 
 to be forgotten. 
 
 The object of this interest was a young and hand 
 some woman, dressed in a travelling costume of sombre 
 hue, but strangely distinguished by two pasteboard 
 escutcheons hung across her bosom and upon her 
 back, the one bearing in red letters the word Liar, 
 the other, Impostor. 
 
 The Basochien, after reading the warrant signed and 
 sealed in the name of the king, judged it discreet to 
 allow the sergeant to proceed upon his wa}% with a 
 message to the attorney-general that the prisoner 
 whom he was expecting had been brought to Paris 
 to suffer the judgment decreed by the king to be 
 done under the direction of the officers of the Parlia 
 ment and University; but the clerk of the Basoche 
 inserted the request that the penalty should be in 
 flicted with the concurrence of the Kingdom of the 
 Basoche, who were that day supreme, and that 
 'the scene of it should be the palace courtyard, near 
 the decorated tree which was their rendezvous. 
 
 "By St. Denis, it is ill done of our masters to 
 attempt to divert attention from our performance by 
 a rival spectacle," said the king, after warmly com 
 mending the zeal and discretion of his captain. " They 
 have long had a grudge against us, though they do 
 not dare openly to avow it. They threaten to sup-
 
 314 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUK-DE-LIS. 
 
 press our farces, and resort to underhand devices to 
 weaken our influence. Give it to them, my good 
 subjects, in your farce to-day. Let none be too high 
 to escape your ridicule." 
 
 After a period of delay, an officer arrived with the 
 message that no objection was made to the demand 
 of the Basoche, since the courtyard of the Palace 
 of Justice would serve as well as any other place 
 for the public exposition of the malefactor whose sen 
 tence he proceeded to put into execution. It re 
 quired that she should stand in view of the populace 
 until the evening, at which time she would be re 
 leased, and suffered to go her way without further 
 molestation. The prisoner was accordingly made to 
 dismount, her hood and riding-coat were removed, 
 leaving her in the plaited petticoat, bodice, and 
 kerchief of a peasant of Lorraine ; and she was sta 
 tioned, by the further interference of the clerk of the 
 Basoche, upon the platform which had borne the 
 royal throne, at the foot of the broad staircase near 
 which the oak-tree of the Basoche flaunted its gay 
 decorations. 
 
 The clerk of the deputy provost, taking his stand near 
 by, cried in a sonorous voice, " People and citizens, the 
 honorable officers of the Parliament, acting under 
 the king's orders, have caused to be brought hither 
 the rank impostor and liar who for the last four years
 
 THE REVIEW OF THE BASOCHE. 315 
 
 has vexed the kingdom with the false claim that she 
 was the Maid of Orleans escaped from death at Rouen. 
 She is now shown openly to all the people, it being 
 ordered that she shall stand in this place till six* of 
 the clock ; while, at the striking of every hour, her 
 crimes and misdemeanors shall be rehearsed against 
 her, so that the pernicious falsehood which she has 
 maintained shall be exposed and denied, to the con 
 fusion of evil-doers, and the encouragement of right 
 eousness. Hear ye now the confession of the woman 
 Claude taken from her own mouth, wherein she de 
 clares that she has abused the belief of the people 
 by claiming to be Jeanne the Maid." 
 
 With this preamble he read the confession, couched 
 in terms of abject humility, from time to time turning 
 towards the prisoner and demanding, " Are these your 
 words ? " 
 
 "They .are my words," she answered, baring her 
 soul to ignominy as she would gladly have bared her 
 bosom to the sword. 
 
 The officers of the Basoche, co-operating with those 
 of the law, kept the crowd at a distance sufficient to 
 prevent their thronging the space already guarded 
 by a twisted rope of blue and yellow ribbon, which 
 encircled the tree, and the platform from which the 
 throne had now been removed, and which became a 
 pillory exposed to the gaze of the hundreds who had
 
 316 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUli-DE-LlS. 
 
 assembled to observe the Review. Claude could hear 
 their derisive comments and ribald jests, and witness 
 their eager enjoyment of the spectacle of human degra 
 dation and suffering, which caused a keener and more 
 gleeful sensation than the view of the parade or the 
 promised witticisms of the farce. A loud-voiced her 
 ald, in a blue and yellow tabard, announced that the 
 hour for the performance at the Chatelet had now 
 arrived, beseeching the attendance of the spectators, 
 and promising that they might return later by way 
 of the palace where a rendezvous of the Basoche would 
 be called again at the close of the day ; a pillory 
 being not so unique a spectacle but that it might be 
 seen any day in seven at the street corners, while the 
 farce of the Basoche came only four times a year. 
 By these persuasions he succeeded in partially empty 
 ing the courtyard of the thieves, gamins, beggars, and 
 women of the town, as well as the reputable citizens 
 with their wives and daughters who were abroad for 
 their holiday, and who proceeded on their way, only 
 to give place to others who took the same route for 
 their pleasuring. 
 
 The sun climbed high, and its vertical rays fell 
 upon the bare head of the prisoner in the courtyard. 
 As the hour of noon was sounded by the chimes of 
 Notre Dame and the deep-toned bell of the Palace 
 of Justice, and taken up by other metallic voices that
 
 THE REVIEW OF THE BASOCHE. 31 7 
 
 fell and floated like distant echoes, the officer read 
 again the prisoner's confession, 'and asked, 
 
 "Are these your words?" 
 
 "They are my words," she responded. 
 
 Distinguished personages in rich attire, who went 
 up and down the broad staircase, stopped to talk in 
 serious groups as they stared at the culprit, express 
 ing their wonder that any could have been deceived 
 by so patent a deception, that the king should have 
 so long delayed to punish it, and that the punishment 
 should be so light. 
 
 " Orleans, not Paris, should be the scene of the 
 pretender's punishment ; and the gibbet or the stake 
 should be the means of it," said a member of the Uni 
 versity. " It brings the law into contempt when arch- 
 traitors are treated more leniently than any petty 
 thief. I have seen the time when the University 
 would not yield its privileges of abjudication on 
 account of a bit of parchment signed by the king's 
 hand. We allow the pernicious impostor to enter 
 and leave the city on the same day, when a twelve 
 month in a dungeon would be none too long a prep 
 aration for a trial, properly conducted by a legally 
 constituted court. Moreover, by allowing the seditious 
 organization of the Basoche to co-operate in the exe 
 cution of this informal sentence, we lay ourselves open 
 to ridicule as well as to contempt."
 
 318 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 " I am, on the whole, of your opinion, and consider 
 this royal monoply o'f justice a blow aimed at our 
 privileges," replied a colleague ; " but consider that 
 the people of the provinces, especially those of Orleans, 
 are madly devoted to the name of the Pucelle. They 
 have lately expended large sums of money in honor 
 of this impostor, a-nd rather than acknowledge them 
 selves to be deluded fools they would be likely to go 
 to any length to maintain the delusion." 
 
 With surly looks of offended dignity the men of 
 the law went on their way. 
 
 The sun beat still more fiercely upon the weary 
 prisoner in the square, to whom the increasing phys 
 ical misery of her strained and aching muscles brought 
 the benumbing of mental pain. The unfriendly com 
 ment of the crowd no longer caused her nerves to 
 tingle with the keen pangs of shame; it seemed to 
 concern another than herself, whose punishment she 
 bore vicariously, while in her inmost being she was 
 far away from the scene of her ignominy. She fancied 
 that she sat with her sister Jeanne upon the grass by _. 
 the Fairy Fountain. There it was always cool, for 
 a breeze swayed the pendent branches of the beech, 
 when every other tree in the forest hung limp in the 
 August noon. She could hear the musical gurgle of 
 the water as it left the basin for its run over the stones. 
 Fragments of leaves thrown into the channel swirled
 
 THE REVIEW OF THE BASOCHE. 319 
 
 about like boats at shipwreck, following the tempes 
 tuous eddies. "Do not tear the leaves, sister; give 
 them to me for my garland," it was Jeanne's voice 
 in its sweet, childish shrillness like the tone of a silver 
 bell. Tears sprang to the pretender's eyes. " Forgive 
 me, dear Jeanne," she murmured; and at the sound 
 of her own words the spell was broken. The narrow 
 streets of Paris, crowded and noisome even to the 
 palaces of king and nobles, sent forth steaming exha 
 lations in the fierce heat. A whining beggar was 
 making the round of the courtyard, beseeching aid 
 from all whom he met. " I do not ask from you, liar 
 and impostor," he said, looking up with a leer as he 
 passed. 
 
 The clerk repeated his reading as the clock of the 
 Palace of Justice gave the stroke of one. "She con 
 fesses that she is no maid, but the widow of a knight 
 to whom she bore two sons." 
 
 Claude flung her arms into the air, while the people 
 laughed about her. She did not heed them ; she felt 
 her children's heads upon her breast ; their eyes looked 
 into hers vague with the mystery of life unconscious 
 of itself, but penetrated and infused with love, the 
 beginning and the end of all its joy and pain. Then 
 she remembered the long street in Marville, with its 
 quaint red houses, and the projecting gold-hung door 
 way of Jean Gugnot's house, where the Sire Des
 
 320 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 Armoises had taken her hand, and smiled into her 
 eyes with admiring reverence. "A widow, yes, for 
 he is dead to me, as I to him," she thought, blinded 
 with tears of shame and grief. 
 
 A man descended the stairway as the clock struck 
 three. He had been detained in the Salle Merciere to 
 answer the inquiries of some learned jurists, who were 
 eager to learn the particulars of the irotorious trial 
 of the Marshal de Retz, with which all France was 
 ringing. It was with difficulty that he escaped from 
 their inquisition by pretending ignorance of all that 
 had occurred; though his passports and credentials, 
 dated at Nantes, argued that he should be as well 
 informed as those whose despatches he carried in the 
 service of the bishop of that city. 
 
 Finding him unresponsive to their questionings and 
 indifferent to their advances, the gentlemen to whom 
 he had been introduced after a time gave over the 
 attempt to show him the civilities which he rejected 
 on the plea that he had weighty business on hand. 
 
 "Do not fail to leave the palace by way of the 
 marble staircase where the false Jeanne is exposed," 
 said one. "You will find some entertainment in the 
 sight ; and there is a farce at the Chatelet, though 
 that is no doubt well-nigh at an end by this time. 
 The farces of the Basoche are at the most nothing 
 but seditious tirades against constituted authorities,
 
 THE KEVIEW OF THE BASOCHE. 321 
 
 with little wit to relieve their impertinence. Would 
 I could have heard the marshal's confession ! Four 
 hundred calcined skeletons, they say, were found in 
 the vaults of his castle at Suze. A bloodthirsty 
 monster, and a disgrace to the nobility of France." 
 
 The visitor to Paris, who had been commended by 
 the bishop as " Our good friend, Sire Roger D'Arblay," 
 paused when he had reached the foot of the staircase, 
 and seated himself, as if overcome by sudden weariness, 
 upon its lo\%est step. The platform which served as 
 a pillory to the pretender was directly in front of him, 
 facing the entrance of the Rue de la Vielle Draperie. 
 The victim's back was turned towards him, and he 
 could watch her without being himself observed. As 
 he took his place upon the step, the clerk, who was 
 lounging near, straightened himself with a yawn and 
 began : " Hear ye, hear ye, the confession of the lying 
 impostor Claude, who has called herself the Maid of 
 Orleans." 
 
 The people in adjacent streets and byways ran 
 together at the sound. 
 
 " They are preaching her again. Come and see the 
 lying wench. She is as white as death, and looks as 
 if she were ready to fall from the platform. She 
 should feel the lash upon her back. My son Simon 
 was well-nigh flogged to death for offending one of 
 the provost's men by the mere chance of being under
 
 322 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 his horse's heels, and oversetting him in the gutter. 
 Such is justice in this world. They say she has been 
 mistress to a priest high in favor at court, and able 
 to buy her safety. When she is let go, what hinders 
 us from tearing the clothes from her back, and giving 
 her some of the blows she so richly deserves ? " 
 
 The man upon the staircase buried his face in his 
 hands, while a crimson flush rose to the roots of his 
 hair. It was as if he were on a pillory before all 
 Paris, before the world, and that an unimagined in 
 famy had fallen upon him. 
 
 " It is my fate henceforth," he thought. " Why 
 should I try to escape it longer?" 
 
 He left his seat, and paced restlessly back and 
 forth, casting scrutinizing glances at the pallid vic 
 tim of the popular ill-will, whose clouded eyes, fixed 
 on vacancy, took no notice of those who came and 
 went about her, and gave no heed to the words that 
 made him wince with pain. 
 
 He stood beside the platform, still draped with the 
 blue and gold tapestries upon which appeared the 
 arms of the Basoche. 
 
 "This is part of the show of the day," said a 
 student passing near him. " The Basochiens are pre 
 paring to adopt a queen. Who could be more worthy 
 a consort for his royal Highness than she who has 
 been so distinguished as to pass for four years as
 
 THE REVIEW OF THE BASOCHE. 323 
 
 Jeanne Dare ? At six of the clock, a rendezvous will 
 be called here to offer the fair impostor a royal 
 crown. She is no greater a deceiver than many who 
 have worn the diadem. Why should all Paris stand 
 agape as if the distinction of being a liar were wholly 
 unique in our most Christian city ? She is a fair 
 wench, with a winsome eye, and needs only a more 
 cheerful occasion to prove herself a merry one. 
 Would I were king of the Basoche." 
 
 Robert's fingers closed convulsively over the hilt 
 of his sword. " Degraded, lost ; why should I inter 
 fere to save her?" he queried; but he said this in 
 grim criticism of the resolve that had brought him 
 there, and not with any vacillating purpose. 
 
 Another hour dragged by. Robert noticed that 
 the knees of the pretender trembled with weakness 
 and fatigue. Her face was deadly pale, and dark 
 circles showed about her eyes. A softer emotion 
 moved him. 
 
 " What am I that I should hold myself above 
 her?" he thought. "Am I better, purer, less an 
 apostate to my highest self ? In the mind of the Cre 
 ator there exists a definite ideal of each one of the 
 creatures of his hands. On the sixth day, testing 
 his work, he found that all was good ; but man has 
 marred the plan, and of the image of God in which 
 he was designed he shows only a blurred and dis-
 
 324 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 torted reflection in the darkened mirror of his soul. 
 We are no nearer our true selves than the unmasked 
 pretender is to the Maid of Orleans." 
 
 At this name he bowed his head, and pressed his 
 lips to a silver medal that hung by a chain about 
 his neck. " Farewell, Jeanne, type of an angelic 
 purity," he said in thought. " You have saved me 
 from degradation and despair. You have been at 
 my side' in moments of weakness, and near me in 
 times of spiritual exaltation, when kneeling by night 
 beside some holy shrine I have fancied myself gifted 
 like Galahad with the power to receive angelic visi 
 tations. I must renounce my fealty to you, and 
 descend from the serene elevation where you dwell, 
 to take my place once more in the mire and blood 
 of this earthly life, where all are sinners, struggling 
 and oppressed, stretching out polluted hands to the 
 far-away saints, to the Mother of Sorrows, to the 
 crucified Christ, for succor, that Heaven sends most 
 often only through the gift of some brother sin 
 ner. Can this be the lesson of our life ? Who 
 knows ? " 
 
 The chimes struck the hour of five, and the choir 
 in the Holy Chapel began the vesper service. The 
 chants sounded sweetly over the confusion and hub 
 bub of the streets ; and Claude, listening, was moved 
 to tears. Through the chanting voices she seemed
 
 THE REVIEW OF THE BASOCHE. 325 
 
 to hear the words which Father Ambrose had ad 
 dressed to her, when Avith convulsive sobs she had 
 said farewell to him at Loches. 
 
 " Fear nothing, my daughter, that man can do to 
 you. At the time of your penance I will be with 
 you, though unseen. The church is more powerful 
 than king or state. She welcomes the broken-hearted 
 penitent with open arms. I will lead you to her 
 embrace. When the hopes of earth fade upon you, 
 the convent opens to receive you." 
 
 Secure in the friar's promise, she looked forward 
 without dread to the hour of her release, which would 
 be also the hour when the protection of the law would 
 be withdrawn from her ; and the threatening mob, 
 hitherto kept at a respectful distance, would be free 
 to work its threats upon her who had all day suffered 
 its execration. 
 
 Six o'clock, sounded from the many belfries of the 
 Cite, was the signal for the weary sentinel to turn 
 with an insulting phrase to his prisoner while assist 
 ing her trembling steps to descend upon the pave 
 ment, where a crowd immediately closed about her. 
 " Room for the Basoche ! " cried a dozen voices. Drums 
 and horns gave emphasis to the command, while the 
 mounted captains cleared the square by successive 
 charges upon the rabble. Shouts, oaths, screams, and 
 laughter filled the air; while the king, dismounting,
 
 326 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 flung the bridle of his horse to a squire, and hastily 
 advancing, placed an arm about Claude's shrinking 
 form. 
 
 "Fair damsel, I claim you as my bride," he said, 
 "and offer you the half of my kingdom, which is 
 the whole of France." 
 
 " Give place, impious youth," cried the voice of a 
 priest at his side. " This penitent is the bride of the 
 church. The convent of the Carmelite nuns is to 
 receive her to-day as an inmate." 
 
 Des Armoises, who had instinctively drawn his 
 sword, at these words returned it to the scabbard, 
 but not before Claude's kindling eyes had caught 
 sight of his figure in its attitude of armed de 
 fense. 
 
 " Robert ! " she cried, holding out entreating arms, 
 whose appeal he did not resist. He took her hand, 
 and drew her towards him. 
 
 " This is my wife," he said, looking about him un 
 flinchingly. " She may choose between me and the 
 convent." 
 
 The clerks of the Basoche began a running fire of 
 jesting comment, which fell upon all impartially, like 
 the brilliant but evanescent sparks of sputtering fire 
 works, and with most effect upon their dejected mon 
 arch, who retreated in confusion, mounted his horse, 
 and gave the order for the dispersal of his subjects
 
 THE BEVIEW OF THE BASOCHE. 327 
 
 for another four months' interval of serious labors 
 in the offices of the jurists and counsellors of 
 France. 
 
 The Review of the Basoche was over. 
 
 Claude held her husband's hand, and looked into 
 his face. She did not hear the impassioned appeals 
 which Ambrose poured into her ears; she did not 
 see the gesture of despair with which he turned and 
 departed in confusion and bitterness of spirit. This 
 was the moment when the lightning stroke of a con 
 suming jealousy revealed to him the gulf beneath his 
 feet. He fled ; expatriated himself ; and died not long 
 after in Siena. 
 
 " Come," said Robert solemnly, with the full con 
 sciousness of the burden to which he had willingly 
 bowed his shoulders, but with a certain gladness in 
 the renunciation which consecrated it with the possi 
 bilities of hope. 
 
 Claude obeyed, as she would have obeyed if lie 
 had beckoned her to instant death. Reverence, awe, 
 a passionate tenderness, a gratitude too deep for words, 
 filled her heart as she walked beside him, feeling the 
 warm contact of his hand to be a living pledge of 
 forgiveness and of blessing. 
 
 Thus with the chastened minds of those who turn
 
 328 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUB-DE-LIS. 
 
 their backs upon that Paradise whose doors are for 
 ever guarded by the flaming sword, to seek a beckon 
 ing hope that lies beyond the stubborn thistle-bearing 
 fields of earth, they went forth, hand in hand, through 
 the deepening shadows.
 
 REHABILITATION. 329 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 REHABILITATION. 
 
 ETTER from Jean de Metz, knight, 1 to his 
 sister, Frau Eudeline Van Houten, at 
 the Hague. 
 
 Written in Rouen, the seventh day 
 of July, 1456. 
 
 " To my very dear sister : 
 
 If you could leave the circle of your fireside and the beloved 
 company of your husband and children to look in upon your 
 lonely brother to-night, you would see in him a man whose 
 one earthly ambition is satisfied, or as nearly so as ever falls 
 out in this world of disappointment. The trial for the rehabili 
 tation of Jeanne Dare, which opened the first of June in Rouen, 
 has resulted in a decree pronounced this seventh day of July, 
 whereby the sentepce of the first trial is declared null and void, 
 calumnious and iniquitous and of no effect. 
 
 Thus is our holy martyr relieved of the stain so long affixed 
 to her glorious name. Has this been effected out of a just zeal 
 for the service of God and the cause of truth ? Alas, that I must 
 answer No. Policy has dictated the royal course, and policy has 
 shaped the actions of the Papal Court ; though to you, who choose 
 .to call yourself a Protestant, I must say as little as possible on 
 that score. 
 
 1 Jean de Metz was knighted in the year 1440.
 
 330 THE SHIELD OF THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 
 
 Suffice it to note that the testimony of the hundreds of wit 
 nesses who rejoiced to raise their voices in her favor has been 
 garbled and distorted, and made to reveal the truth only in part. 
 Many notable personages whose names have been cited as wit 
 nesses have not been asked to give their depositions ; while those 
 of others are so disposed as to omit any facts which might prove 
 unwelcome to the judges. The events of the close of 1429 and 
 those of 1430 are passed over in silence. 
 
 The book of Poitiers was not produced, nor would it have been, 
 even if it were not, as is probably the case, long since destroyed 
 by those envious of Jeanne's fame. This is the register in which 
 were preserved all the promises which Jeanne made before under 
 taking her mission, some of which have been fulfilled, while some 
 failed of fulfilment through the fault of the king and his ad 
 visers. 
 
 In future years, those who have not known Jeanne will be 
 grossly deceived as to the scope and purpose of her mission, if 
 they rely upon the evidence of this trial. 
 
 I rejoice that justice has been done, in part at least, to her 
 memory ; and I look forward with certain hope to a day, which 
 I shall not live to see, when the church shall number among her 
 most glorious saints the immortal Maid of Orleans."
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 A RESUME OF THE HISTORICAL EVIDENCE CONCERNING 
 THE FALSE JEANNE D'ARC. 
 
 HISTORY in certain phases presents a series of almost 
 insoluble problems, in whose consideration the imagination 
 must be allowed equal authority with the critical faculties 
 of the mind, whose action is limited by the absence of 
 proper logical sequence in the facts recorded. 
 
 Who was the false Jeanne d'Arc ? She is a personage 
 concerning whose history we have to a certain extent 
 definite and precise information, but in regard to whose 
 actual being and character we are left very much in the 
 dark. 
 
 Herewith is given a resume of the main points in the 
 case, to connect which with any semblance of coherence, 
 a fanciful theory must be accepted, based on a chosen 
 hypothesis ; for in this instance, as in many others, time 
 has destroyed the edifice, and left us only a view of the 
 scaffolding that served for its construction ; or, to use 
 another simile, has given us a few fossil bones from 
 which the skeleton of the extinct animal must be recon 
 structed, clothed with flesh, and endowed with the breath 
 of a long-departed life, in an environment foreign to our 
 
 331
 
 332 APPENDIX. 
 
 experience. What wonder if the result should be only a 
 scientific paradox ? The savant has faith in his ptero 
 dactyls, and the historian too often blindly accepts the 
 prejudiced conclusions of those who have preceded him. 
 
 In the year 1436, five years after the death of Jeanne 
 d'Arc at Kouen, a rumor spread through Lorraine and 
 Champagne, and further among the cities of the Loire, 
 that the Maid was still alive ; another had been burned 
 in her stead at Rouen ; she had appeared in Metz, and 
 had been recognized by her brothers. 
 
 Two different manuscripts preserve for us the record of 
 these circumstances, made by the Dean of St. Thibaud in 
 his Chronicle of Metz, the first of which may be thus lit 
 erally translated : 
 
 " In the year 1436 Sire Phelepin Marcoulz was sheriff of Metz. 
 This year, the 20th day of May, came the Maid Jeanne who had 
 been in France, to Grange-aux-Hormes, near to St. Privay, and 
 there was brought to talk to some of the lords of Metz ; and she 
 called herself Claude. And the same day there saw her there her 
 two brothers, one of whom was a knight and called Pierre, and the 
 other Petit-Jean, a squire ; and they thought she had been burned, 
 and as soon as they saw her they knew her, and she did them. And 
 Monday the 21st day of said month, they took their sister with them 
 to Bacquilon ; and there the Sire Nicole Lowe, knight, gave her a 
 horse worth thirty francs and a pair of leggings ; and lord Aubert 
 Boulay, a cap, and Sire Nicole Groignat, a sword. And the said Maid 
 rode her horse very skilfully, and said several things to Sire Nicole 
 Lowe by which he understood that it was she who had been in 
 France ; and she was recognized by many signs as the Pucelle 
 Jeanne of France, who brought the King Charles to be crowned 
 at Reims. And many would say that she had been burned at 
 Rouen, and she spoke the most of her words by parables, and told
 
 APPENDIX. 333 
 
 nothing of her intention, and said that she had no power before 
 John the Baptist's Day. 
 
 " But when her brothers had met her, she returned at the feast of 
 Pentecost into the city of Mareville, at the house of Jehan Quenast, 
 and was there about three weeks ; and then set out to go to our 
 Lady of Liance on the third. And when she wished to go away, 
 many from Metz went to see her at the said Mareville, and there 
 they recognized that it was really Jeanne the Maid of France. And 
 then Jeoffroy Dex gave her a horse. And then she went to Arelont, 
 a city that is in the duchy of Luxembourg. 
 
 " Item : When she was at Arelont she was always at the side of 
 Madame de Luxembourg. (Note by the editor of the manuscript : 
 Not the one mentioned in the first trial, but the effective and heredi 
 tary mistress of the duchy, Elizabeth de Goerlitz, niece by alliance 
 of the Duke of Burgundy. ) 
 
 "And there was a great throng, until the Count of Warnonbourg 
 took her to Cologne. And the said count loved her much, and when 
 she wished to go, he had made for her a beautiful cuirass to arm her. 
 And then she came to the said Arelon, and there was made the 
 marriage of Messire Robert des Hermoises, knight, and the said 
 Jehanne the Pucelle. And then afterwards came the said Siour 
 des Hermoises to live in Metz, in the house of the said Sire Robert, 
 which was before Saincte-Segoleine ; and there they stayed while it 
 pleased them." 
 
 The tone of the second copy of the manuscript is notice 
 ably different, it being evidently written at a later date, 
 after the exposure of the imposture. The spelling is, of 
 course, unique, as in the matter of proper names each 
 scribe of that period was a law unto himself. 
 
 " Messire Philip Marcouls, in the year 1436. In this year came 
 a young girl who said she was the Maid of France, and played the 
 part so well that many were deceived, and especially those of high 
 rank, And she was at La Grange a 1'Horae, And there were the
 
 334 APPENDIX. 
 
 lords of Metz, such as the lord Nicole Lowe, who gave her a horse 
 of the price of thirty francs, and the lord Albert Boullay a cap, 
 and the lord Nicole Grognot a sword. And she was dressed like a 
 man, and two of her brothers accompanied her ; and soon after the 
 feast of Pentecost she returned into the city of Mairville, and was 
 there about three weeks at the house of a goodman called Jean 
 Cugnot ; and several people of Metz went there, and gave her many 
 jewels, and the Lord Jeoffroy Dex gave her a horse. And she 
 departed and went to our Lady of Liance, and afterwards to Arlon, 
 and was always with Madame de Luxembourg ; and there she was 
 married to the Lord Robert des Armoises. and came to live in Metz 
 on the hill of the Muzele gate." 
 
 Still later this same account is given in another form 
 by Philip Vigneule, a historian of Metz in the sixteenth 
 century. As is natural, he characterizes the affair even 
 more decidedly as an imposture. 
 
 " In the same year, 1436, came a novelty of one who tried to 
 counterfeit another ; for at this time, May 22, a girl named Claude, 
 being in woman's clothes, was shown as being Jeanne the Maid," 
 etc., and he concludes, " But since, the truth has been known." 
 
 Who was this pretender that so closely resembled Jeanne 
 d'Arc as to deceive her brothers ? What was the charm 
 by which she gained the admiration of the nobles of Metz, 
 the intimate friendship of the Duchess of Luxembourg, the 
 love of Count Ulric of Wiirtemberg, and the hand of a 
 wealthy nobleman of ancient lineage ? 
 
 Why did she linger three weeks at Marville at the 
 beginning of her career ? This name recurs, curiously 
 enough, in a document important in this connection, the 
 contract of sale of one-fourth the estate of Haraucourt,
 
 APPENDIX. 335 
 
 by Kobert Des Armoises and Jeanne du Lis, called the 
 Pucelle, his wife, which can be thus literally rendered : 
 
 "We, Robert des Harmoises, knight, lord of Thichiemont, and 
 Jeanne du Lys, the Pucelle of France, lady of the said Thichiemont, 
 my wife, licensed and authorized by me, Robert above named, to 
 agree and accord in all that follows, make known to all to whom 
 these presents may come, that we conjointly together and with a 
 common consent, and each of us by himself and for both, have sold, 
 ceded, and transported to the honorable person Collard de Failly, 
 squire, living at Marville, and to Poinsette, his wife, the fourth part 
 that we have and may have ... in all the town, limits, and con 
 fines of Haraucourt, etc. 
 
 "Witnessed by our great and good friend, Jean de Thoneletil, 
 lord of Villette, and Saubelet de Dun, provost of Marville, who 
 witness that it was made and done in the year of grace 1436, in 
 November, 7th day." 
 
 Six months after her first appearance at Marville, there 
 fore, " the girl Claude " was again in that place as the 
 Lady Jeanne Des Armoises. Meantime she had visited 
 the Duchess of Luxembourg at Arlon, and had gone from 
 there to Cologne in the company of Count Ulric of Wiir- 
 temberg. Concerning the events that occurred at Cologne, 
 we have the testimony of a writer who is not of a char 
 acter to be accepted as a safe or unbiased authority. This 
 is Johann Nider, a German ecclesiastic and member of 
 the Inquisition, who died in 1438 or 1440. That he was 
 a man of intense prejudices, and willing to go to a great 
 length in the path marked out by a bigoted religious zeal, 
 is shown by the fact that he asked and obtained permis 
 sion from the Council of Bale to attempt the conversion of 
 the Hussites ; and when these independent thinkers proved
 
 336 APPENDIX. 
 
 unamenable to his persuasions, he declared a crusade 
 against them, and thousands perished in the war in the 
 defense of their belief. Such a man was not likely to 
 regard impartially the character of one who had incurred 
 the suspicion of the Holy Office ; and it happened that the 
 false Jeanne during her stay in Cologne had excited the 
 wrath of the Inquisition, by undertaking to perform mir 
 acles, probably to support her credit as the Maid of Orleans, 
 whom the common people had believed to be gifted with 
 miraculous power. 
 
 Nider tells us that she restored a torn napkin and a 
 broken glass whole as at first before the eyes of all the 
 people, and escaped arrest by the Inquisition only by flee 
 ing from Cologne with the aid of the Count of Wiirtemberg. 
 He further relates that she married a knight, and left him 
 to live as the paramour of a priest in Metz. Since this 
 accords with no other record, we must believe that Nider's 
 view of the subsequent history of one whom he regarded 
 as an excommunicated sorceress and enemy of the church 
 was colored by the rancor natural to the man and the 
 Inquisitor. 
 
 Another writer, whose opinions are apparently based 
 upon the testimony of Nider's Formicarium, is Antoine 
 Dufaur, provincial of the Dominicans of France, and con 
 fessor of Louis XII. and Anne of Brittany, at whose re 
 quest he composed the Book of Celebrated Women. He 
 was a native of Orleans, and pronounced the sermon of the 
 8th of May, 1501. He should have been well informed ; 
 but, on the contrary, his notice of Jeanne d'Arc swarms 
 with errors to such an extent that no well-informed histo-
 
 APPENDIX. 337 
 
 rian thinks of quoting him. His notice of the false 
 Jeanne may also be ruled out on the ground of his general 
 unreliability. He says : 
 
 "There has been since, one falsely called the Pucelle of Mans, 
 hypocrite, idolater, sorceress, magician, dissolute, enchantress, who, 
 according to her miserable estate, tried to do as much harm as 
 Jeanne the Pucelle had done good. After her chimerical, fictitious, 
 and false devotion she was abandoned of God and men, an arch- 
 wanton of whom, for the honor of the good and virtuous, one does 
 not wish long to write." 
 
 The fine talent for invective displayed by men of the 
 church was called out by any one unfortunate enough to 
 incur their animosity, with little concern for the applica 
 bility of the epithets so lavishly bestowed, as is instanced 
 by the fact that when Jeanne d'Arc was led to execution 
 she wore on her head a mitre with the inscription ; " Re 
 lapsed heretic, apostate, idolater," and on a tablet before 
 the scaffold appeared these words : " Jeanne, who caused 
 herself to be called the Maid, liar, pernicious, deceiver of 
 the people, diviner, superstitious, blasphemer of God, pre 
 sumptuous, denier of the faith of Jesus Christ, boaster, 
 idolater, cruel, dissolute, invoker of devils, schismatic, and 
 heretic." 
 
 A reaction of indignation and disappointment was inevi 
 table in Orleans when it was discovered that the Pucelle, 
 then the Lady Jeanne Des Armoises, who had been received 
 in 1439 with lavish gifts, splendid pageants, and costly 
 festivities, was only a pretender foisted upon their cre 
 dulity. The records of these events will be later referred 
 to.
 
 338 APPENDIX. 
 
 There remains to be considered the testimony of the 
 so-called bourgeois of Paris, who it is now conceded was 
 no bourgeois, but a learned member of the University. 
 When the shameful course of the University in regard to 
 Jeanne d'Arc is recalled, and it is observed that the 
 Journal of the Bourgeois of Paris gives, as if in sympathy 
 with it, an analysis of the sermon preached by the Inquis 
 itor-General containing the most impudent fictions con 
 cerning the last moments of Jeanne d'Arc, and also the 
 analysis of the sermon which the detestable Nicole Midi 
 preached on the occasion of Jeanne's martyrdom, it will 
 be evident that the author of the Journal was prejudiced 
 in advance against any one recalling the name of the Maid 
 of Orleans. It is therefore worthy of note that he does 
 not repeat the scandalous charges made by Johann Nider. 
 Although he had seen the false Jeanne as an exposed im 
 postor " preached " before the people, he gives only a con 
 fused story of a penance that she had done at Rome for 
 some act of ill temper, as to the occasion of which he loses 
 himself in conjectures. He says : 
 
 "At this time there was very great news of the Pucelle who was 
 burned at Rouen, and there were many persons who were much 
 deceived by her, and firmly believed that by her holiness she had 
 escaped from the fire, and that they had burned another in her 
 stead. But she was really burnt, and her ashes were thrown into 
 the river. 
 
 " At this time men of arms brought one who had been very honor 
 ably received at Orleans; and when she was near Paris the great 
 error recommenced of believing firmly that she was the Maid, and 
 for this cause the University and Parliament made her come to 
 Paris, willing or unwilling, and she was shown to the people in the
 
 APPENDIX. 339 
 
 Palace on the marble stone of the great court ; and she was preached 
 and all her life and all her estate, and said that she was not a Maid, 
 and that she had married a knight by whom she had two sons ; and 
 that she had done something for which she had to go to the Pope, 
 like laying hands on father or mother, priest or clerk, violently, and 
 that in order to guard her honor, for she said she struck her mother 
 by chance, thinking she was another, and that she might have 
 killed her mother, so great was the temper she was in, for her 
 mother held her when she wished to strike one of her female 
 friends, and for this cause it suited her to go to Rome, and she 
 went there dressed as a man, and was soldier in the war for the 
 Holy Father Eugene, and committed homicide twice, and when she 
 was at Paris she (had already) returned to the war and was in garri 
 son; and then she went away." 
 
 This testimony of a resident of Paris at the time of the 
 public penance of the impostor would naturally include 
 every scandalous detail of the exposition made of " all her 
 life and all her estate," and that he refers only to her mar 
 riage is a negative proof of great value in discountenan 
 cing the charges made from hearsay by the Dominican of 
 Cologne. 
 
 So light a punishment inflicted upon a deceiver who for 
 four years had occupied the attention of all France, who 
 had been welcomed at Orleans, feted by the nobility, and 
 finally received by the king at court, is singularly in con 
 trast to the habit of that blood-stained age, when Pier- 
 ronne la Bretonne, a companion of Jeanne d'Arc in the 
 war, was burned alive in Paris for no other fault than her 
 expressed opinion that the Maid of Orleans was inspired 
 by God. 
 
 How did it chance that after the false Jeanne's exposure
 
 340 APPENDIX. 
 
 upon an improvised pillory, some say the great marble 
 table in the hall of the Palace of Justice, she was al 
 lowed to go free, unchallenged and unharmed ? 
 
 There is no doubt that a powerful influence had devised 
 and maintained the imposture. Gilles de Laval, the Mar 
 shal de Retz, was one of the most distinguished noblemen 
 of his time, and high in favor with the king, who had made 
 him marshal of France at the time of the consecration at 
 Reims. On that occasion he had been one of the four 
 knights deputed to bring the sacred vial of holy oil from 
 the abbey of St. Remi. He had been the companion of 
 Jeanne d'Arc in the war, and was one of her train when 
 she had first entered Orleans. After the false Jeanne's 
 return from Rome, she was in the war, and in garrison 
 with the soldiers of the marshal, which is probably the 
 time referred to in the somewhat confused statement of 
 the author of the Journal. 
 
 In 1441 the following testimony was given by a former 
 lieutenant of the marshal, arrested by Louis the dauphin 
 for pillaging the country. 
 
 He says that " about two years ago, the late Sire de 
 Retz, under whom he served, said to him that he was to go 
 to Mans and take charge and government of the men of 
 war who had with them one called Jeanne the Pucelle ; 
 promising that if he took Mans he should be captain of it." 
 After hearing this, the king pardoned him for his pillaging, 
 " in consideration of his services." 
 
 In 1439 the false Jeanne was in Orleans, after having 
 delayed three years to appear in the city so intimately 
 associated with the fame of her prototype. In the ac-
 
 APPENDIX. 341 
 
 counts of the city of Orleans for the year 1436, the date 
 of the pretender's appearance, the following records may 
 be seen: 
 
 9th day of August, 1436, letters carried from Jeanne the Pucelle, 
 to messenger (so much). 
 
 To Jean du Lis, brother of Jeanne the Pucelle, Tuesday, Aug. 
 21st, 1436, 12 livres tournois, because he came to the Chamber and 
 asked the procureurs to give him money to return to his sister. 
 The King had ordered a hundred francs to be given to him ; they 
 only gave him 20 ; he had spent 12, and had only 8 left, which was 
 little to return with, seeing he was (five days) on horseback. 
 
 Aug. 25, to a messenger who brought letters from Jeanne the 
 Pucelle (so much). 
 
 Oct. 28, 1436. To Cceur-de-lis (a herald) for a journey that he 
 made for the city of Orleans to the Maid who was at Arlon in the 
 duchy of Luxembourg, and to carry a letter which he brought from 
 Jehanne the Pucelle to the King at Loches ; in which journey he 
 took 41 days, that is to say 34 days in journey for .the Pucelle, and 
 seven days to go to the King. He set out to go to the Maid Tuesday 
 last day of July, and he returned the 2nd day of Sept. following. 
 
 To Jaquet Leprestre, the 2nd day of Sept. 1436, for bread, wine, 
 pears and nuts dispensed in the Chamber of the said city on the 
 coming of the said Coeur-de-lis who brought the said letters from 
 Jehanne the Pucelle, and for giving drink to the said Coeur-de-lis, 
 who said he was very thirsty, for this 2 s. 4 d.p. 
 
 In the year 1439 the following accounts were recorded : 
 
 July 18, 10 pintes and choppines of wine presented to Dame 
 Jehanne des Armoises. 
 
 July 29, the same. 
 
 Last day of July, meat bought of Perrin Basin to present to 
 Madame Jehanne des Armoises. 
 
 Wine for dinner and supper same day (so much).
 
 342 APPENDIX. 
 
 Aug. 1st, wine at dinner when she left the city (so much). 
 
 To Jehanne des Armoises for gift to her made the first of August 
 by deliberation made with the City Council, and for the good she 
 did the city during the siege ; for this 201 l.p. 
 
 It was probably at this time that the famous Mystery 
 of the Siege of Orleans was represented in this city at the 
 expense of the Marshal de Retz, in honor of the Maid. 
 
 The following extract is from a Notice of Gilles de Retz 
 by Armand Gueraud. 
 
 " Sometimes he was at Paris, sometimes at Angers, sometimes at 
 Orleans. He spent in this last city in less than a year as much as 
 80,000 or 100,000 crowns. He caused to be acted on the public 
 square with more magnificence than was displayed at the entrance 
 of Charles into Paris, the Great Mysteries representing the Siege of 
 Orleans, with actors without number. The festivities on this occa 
 sion did not last less than three days. Each representation was 
 followed by public banquets and copious distributions of hippocras." 
 
 In 1440 the imposture was exposed; and the same year 
 the Marshal de Retz was brought to trial on charges long 
 pending, and which he was no longer able to escape. It is 
 impossible to avoid connecting the failure of his scheme 
 concerning the false Jeanne with his immediate disgrace 
 and execution, brought about, apparently, by the withdrawal 
 of the king's favor, which left him at the mercy of his 
 enemies. 
 
 The false Jeanne was summoned to court ; and when she 
 was brought before Charles, who had purposely disguised 
 himself, she recognized him as the true Jeanne had done 
 on a similar occasion ; " at which he was in amaze, and 
 exclaimed, 'Welcome, Pucelle, my friend, in the name of
 
 APPENDIX. 343 
 
 God who knows the secret that is between you and me.' 
 Then, marvellously, after hearing that one word, the false 
 Pucelle fell at the king's knees, crying for mercy, and 
 confessing her treason, for which some were severely 
 punished, as was suitable in such a case." 1 
 
 The impostor herself escaped with no punishment but 
 that of open shame. The members of Jeanne's family 
 continued to be rewarded with gifts and offices. The 
 trial of the Marshal de Retz, however, set all France 
 aghast with horror and amazement. 
 
 " This Gilles de Retz was a very great lord, of fine person, and 
 good manners, well educated, and speaking Latin with elegance. 
 He defied his judges; but he could not defy the crowd of witnesses, 
 bereaved parents who came weeping to tell how their children had 
 been carried away and murdered. His accomplices turned against 
 him; and finding it useless to deny, he began his confession, at which 
 the hearers shuddered and made the sign of the cross. A ton of 
 calcined skeletons was found in the tower of Chantoce, in the 
 castle of Suze, and other places where he had been. This beast of 
 extermination killed to obtain the favor of the demons, and the 
 gifts of gold, science, and power. After a time he killed for the 
 enjoyment he derived from it. He thought he could gain at once 
 the favor of God and of the devil, and expected to bribe his judge 
 with masses and processions. To the devil he had never vowed his 
 soul, serving him with this reservation, and punctually fulfilling the 
 duties of religion. He was condemned to the stake, but was put to 
 death before the flames touched him ; and his body was buried by 
 members of his family, with their own hands, in the church of the 
 Carmelites. 
 
 " The Marshal de Retz had pursued his horrible career for four 
 teen years without any one daring to accuse him ; and he would 
 
 1 Pierre Sala. Hardiesses des grands Rois et Empereurs.
 
 344 APPENDIX. 
 
 never have been accused and condemned if three powers usually 
 opposed to each other had not consented to his death, the Bishop 
 of Nantes, the Duke, and the King. The Duke was jealous of the 
 Lavals ; the bishop was a personal enemy of De Retz ; and the King, 
 to whom he had rendered services, and on whom he might perhaps 
 rely, did not wish any more to defend the brigands who had done so 
 much injury to his cause." 1 
 
 Since the brigand especially referred to, De Retz's lieu 
 tenant, was afterwards pardoned by the king, it is more 
 likely that the sudden withdrawal of Charles's favor was 
 due to the exposure of the imposture in which the marshal 
 had had so great a share. Although it is evident that 
 Jeanne's youngest surviving brother gave his active co-op 
 eration to the scheme, it is impossible to determine whether 
 he was a party to the deception, or himself a dupe. The 
 other brother, Pierre, a knight, does not appear in connec 
 tion with the affair ; but twenty years later he is associated 
 with his mother in a petition to the head of the church for 
 the rehabilitation of Jeanne d'Arc. 
 
 The name used by the false Jeanne, Claude, is repeated 
 for three succeeding generations in the descendants of this 
 same Petit- Jean, who carried her letters from Arlon to the 
 king. It would seem that he had a kindness for her 
 memory. 
 
 It has been suggested that the pretender may have been 
 Jeanne's sister, Catherine, of whom history preserves only 
 vague and contradictory records. This supposition fur 
 nishes a welcome clue in the consideration of the problem. 
 A sister of the Maid, if resembling her in form and fea- 
 
 1 Michelet, abridged and translated freely.
 
 APPENDIX. 345 
 
 ture, might be able to counterfeit the true Pucelle so suc 
 cessfully as to impose upon the credulity of the people of 
 Orleans, who cannot be suspected of acting in concerted 
 support of a pretender, although it is conceivable that the 
 brothers of the Maid might be induced to do so from 
 motives of self-interest. 
 
 The mother of Jeanne d'Arc was a pensioner upon the 
 bounty of the city of Orleans ; and as noted in the accounts 
 of the city, she was ill from the 7th day of July to the 
 last day of August, 1440. Imagination may readily con 
 nect this illness with the grief resulting from the pre 
 tender's exposure, which occurred at this time. 
 
 As to the further history of the false Jeanne, after she 
 " went away " from Paris, history gives us only a hint. 
 About 1452 it is recorded that "a young woman played 
 tennis with the cure of Sermaize. She said to him, ' Say 
 boldly that you have played tennis with the Pucelle.' At 
 which the deponent was right joyous." 
 
 It has been rashly concluded that this must be a second 
 pretender, upon the ground that a woman of thirty-eight 
 or forty could not come under the above definition, and 
 would not be likely to indulge in a game of tennis. 
 
 Allowance may be made for the latitude of compliment 
 in the statement of the gallant cure; and in these days of 
 athletics for women the latter argument has no weight. 
 
 It is less credible, however, that after the false Jeanne 
 had confessed the imposture with tears, and her life and 
 estate had been exposed in Paris, she should later on make 
 so unqualified a claim. 
 
 Some writers, falling into a grave confusion of dates,
 
 346 APPENDIX. 
 
 have fixed the time of Johann Nider's history long poste 
 rior to his death, and have imagined that there was a third 
 pretender as late as 1473, to whom some of the statements 
 of the Formicarium are made to apply. This is an example 
 of the inextricable confusion which results from the per 
 petuated misunderstanding of historical records. 
 
 An exact knowledge of the past is as impossible as a 
 final conclusion in regard to any of the mysterious prob 
 lems of man's destiny. " Our little life is rounded with a 
 sleep ; " arid history is only the remembrance of a faded 
 dream.
 
 COKET 
 
 A Tale of the Salem Witchcraft 
 By CONSTANCE GODDARD DuBOIS 
 
 This is a graphic and powerful novel. The characters are drawn 
 with a touch at once graceful and firm, and the very color of the 
 times is preserved with great care and skill. The Churchman, New 
 York. 
 
 The story of Martha Corey is a tale of the Salem witchcraft, 
 and has for its background the dark and gloomy pictures of that 
 shameful persecution. The historical material is used with much 
 exactitude, and the interest well sustained to the end. The author 
 is an able writer, and makes very real the dark page in Massa 
 chusetts history, where stands recorded the cruel error which for a 
 season destroyed all human kindness in the hearts of men, re 
 placing it by vindictive fear and debasing superstition. -Journal of 
 Education, Boston. 
 
 An exceedingly pleasant tale of love and life in an antique set- 
 ting. Christian Register, Boston. 
 
 In her very effective tale of the Salem witchcraft, Miss Dubois 
 depicts with fidelity to the facts of history, and a fine dramatic skill, the 
 horrible effects of New England superstition in the closing years of 
 the seventeenth century. Philadelphia Press. 
 
 The action of the story is rapid, and offers many interesting situ 
 ations. Telegraph, Grand Rapids. 
 
 A story of marked strength both of imagination and narration. 
 Home Journal, New York. 
 
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 Columbus and Beatriz is a delicate and conscientious study of the 
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 Miss DuBois has a fascinating style of composition, and weaving the 
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 : : JUST PUBLISHED : : 
 
 NAPOLEON, LOVER AND HUSBAND 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE 14 FRENCH EDITION 
 By J. M. Howell 
 
 Five Photogravure Plates, 32O Pages, 
 
 Svo, Cloth, Gilt Top, $2.OO 
 
 IF there is any figure in the world's history that the present age 
 might suppose that it knew, Napoleon Bonaparte would be 
 taken as pre-eminently the best known. To say nothing of 
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 edited under his nephew, Napoleon III., the literature of the century 
 has been made up in a large part of studies of the Corsican. And 
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 of great personality, that the real Napoleon, the man, the lover, 
 the husband, has been fairly left untouched until to-day. It might 
 even be supposed that the world has tired of hearing of him. 
 But a volume now enlisting absorbing interest, not only in France, 
 but in Europe, proves that the man, after all, is the most interesting 
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 * * * * Frederic Masson has undertaken to reveal the lover's 
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 have been vaguely touched before, the present author has buttressed 
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 pelled to pronounce unimpeachable. And, indeed, without doc 
 uments, the Napoleon presented in Frederic Masson's volume, 
 " Napoleon, Lover and Husband," would be hardly credible, for, if 
 there is one saliency in Napoleon's character that stands out beyond 
 others in the recorded actions of his life, it is his determined hostility 
 to feminine interference in affairs of state, or even affairs of the 
 family. It was his supposed impassive indifference to the sex that 
 first won him the incredulous interest of the Parisians, when, as the 
 head of the Italian army at twenty-five, he sternly put aside the 
 usual gallantries that follow " war's alarums," and found time only 
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 For sale at all Bookstores, or will be mailed postpaid upon receipt of price by 
 
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 A MODERN PAGAN 
 
 BY 
 
 CONSTANCE GODDARD DuBOIS. 
 
 12mo, Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 Constance Goddard DuBois has peculiar ideas re 
 garding American life and the relation of men and 
 women to political affairs and to society at large. 
 These are expressed in "A Modern Pagan," and are 
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 they are subordinated to the lively story which runs 
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 TWO WOMEN, or. 
 
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 BY LIDA OSTROM VANAMEE. 
 
 16mo, Oblong, Cloth, Gilt Top, - 75 Cents. 
 
 Is a pretty summer story describing the adventures 
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 after a hard winter's work in New York, decide to 
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 have many adventures during their long drive, and 
 meet many interesting personages and visit many in 
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 PS1555 D23S5X 
 
 Du Bois, Constance Goddard. 
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