, counselling them
on no account to take bribes, adding the practical touch that as God
is everywhere, and only asks of each a good heart, it is not
necessary for them to go to Mass every day; then to the wife of the
labourer, bidding her to guard well her master's flocks and to
encourage her husband to work; and, finally, she has a word of
sympathy for the poor, holding out to them hope of recompense in
heaven for misery endured here, and exhorting them to have patience
meanwhile. From this patriotic and practical advice to women she turns
to men, and in _Le Livre de la Paix_ sets forth the duties of princes
and of those in power to the people, importuning them to exercise
clemency, liberality, and justice.

[35] A. A. Hentsch, _De la litterature du moyen age
s'adressant specialement aux femmes_, Cahors, 1903.

But it is too late. The sand in the hour-glass is running low.
Disaster follows disaster, until the final blow is struck at Agincourt
(1415), where the flower of the French nation is cut off, and princes
of the blood are carried away into exile. Christine, with bleeding
heart, and worn with trouble and disappointment, retires to the
convent of Poissy, "un tres doux paradis," perchance to find peace and
consolation within its tranquil walls, and to implore Heaven's aid for
her sore-stricken country. For fourteen years no sound from her
reaches the outside world. Then, inspired by the glorious advent and
deeds of Joan of Arc, with all her old passion she pours forth a final
hymn of praise and thanksgiving to the woman who has at last aroused
France to patriotism, and so dies in peace at the solemn moment of
Charles the Seventh's consecration at Rheims.

O Thou! ordained Maid of very God!
Joanna! born in Fortune's golden hour,
On thee the Holy Spirit pours His Flood
And His high grace is given thee for dower.
Now all great gifts are thine:--O blessed be He
That lent thee life!--how word my grateful prayer?
--No prayer of thine was spoken fruitlessly,
O Maid of God! O Joan! O Virgin rare!

* * * * *

Mark me this portent! strange beyond all telling!
How this despoiled Kingdom stricken lay,
And no man raised his hand to guard his dwelling,
Until a Woman came to show the way.
Until a Woman (since no man dare try)
Rallied the land and bade the traitors fly.
Honour to Womankind! It needs must be
That God lov