teward, two valets, and Jeanne's brother, Pierre d'Arc. Clothed in pure
white armor--white as symbolizing the purity of the heroine--and mounted
upon her black horse, glorious must have been the sight of the sweet
maid, a very _sursum corda_ to every loyal heart in France. One can see
through the mists of years the seraphic smile of tender triumph with
which she looked up at her banner, the holy banner that was of white
with _fleurs-de-lis_ upon it, and on one side the Lord of Hosts Himself,
with angels by His side, holding the world in His hands. And then she
waved aloft the sacred sword of Saint Catherine with its five crosses,
which she had discovered hid behind the altar of Saint Catherine de
Fierbois; the word was at last: "On to Orleans!"

No greater contrast could have been than that here set before the eyes
of wondering France: on the one hand, the chaste, kindly, simple-hearted
Jeanne; on the other, leaders and soldiers brutalized by long years of
desultory civil war. Think of a Sire de Giac, who gave poison to his
wife and then, setting her astride a horse, made her gallop till she
died. When he was brought to justice he prayed that his right hand,
vowed to the service of the devil, might be cut off before his
execution, lest the astute ruler of Hades seize the said hand and drag
the whole body along with it. Or think, again, of Gilles de Retz, the
Marquis de Laval, whose murders of children (to the number of one
hundred and sixty, some say) were so atrocious that he was at last
seized, tried, condemned to death at the stake and to eternal, if
mistaken, association with that nursery horror, Bluebeard. Think of him
riding beside Jeanne la Pucelle, nay, standing beside her at the
coronation in Rheims and fetching the sacred ampulla! What an associate
for her was even that brave and loyal friend Etienne Vignoles, nicknamed
Lahire (the Barker), who was wont to say, in extenuation of the
universal practice of plundering and brigandage among the so-called
soldiers, "Were God to turn man-at-arms, He too would pillage!" It was
he who prayed before a battle, with less reverence but surely not with
less fervency than some other pious soldiers: _Sire Dieu, je te prie de
faire pour Lahire ce que Lahire ferait pour toi, si tu etais capitaine
et si Lahire etait Dieu_ (Sir God, I pray thee to do for Lahire what
Lahire would do for thee, if thou were a soldier and Lahire were God).
It is a most excellent and comprehensive pray