There was much talk all down the table of these matters; but the
Maid took little part in this. Her eyes were heavy, and she looked
weary and pale. I doubt not she had spent the night previous in
vigil and prayer, as was so often her wont. When we rose from our
repast, she retired into a small inner room reserved for her use,
and the little Charlotte went with her. A curtain, partly drawn,
shut off this room from the outer one in which we knights and some
of her pages and gentlemen sat talking; and I was just able to see
from where I sat that the Maid had laid herself down upon a couch,
the little one nestled beside her, and I felt sure by her stillness
and immobility that she was soon soundly asleep, taking the rest
she sorely needed after the exertions and excitements of the early
hours of the day.

Our conversation languished somewhat, for the warmth of the May
afternoon made us all drowsy. We, like the Maid herself, had laid
aside our coats of mail, and were enjoying a spell of rest and
leisure; and there was silence in both the rooms, when suddenly
we--if indeed we slept--were awakened by the voice of the Maid
speaking in the tones of one who dreams.

"I must up and against the English!" she cried, and at the first
word I started broad awake and was on my feet at the door of
communication, looking towards her.

She still lay upon the couch, but her eyes were wide open and
fixed; her lips moved.

"I hear! I hear!" she went on, yet still as one who dreams, "I am
ready--I will obey. Only tell me what I must do. Is it against the
towers I must go, to assail them? Or is it that Fastolffe comes
against us with yet another host?"

Little Charlotte here pulled the Maid by the hand, crying out:

"What are you saying? To whom do you speak? There is nobody here
but you and me!"

The Maid sprang to her feet, wide awake now in an instant. She bent
for one moment over the wondering child, and kissed her tenderly,
as though to soothe the alarm in the baby eyes.

"Run to your mother, ma mie, for I must off and away on the
instant," then wheeling round with her air of martial command, she
called to me and said, "To arms at once! I must to the front!
French blood is flowing. They are seeking to act without me. O my
poor soldiers, they are falling and dying! To horse! to horse! I
come to save them!"

Was she dreaming? What did it mean? The town seemed as quiet as the
still summer afternoon! Not a sound of tumult broke