drive him into the arms of the Dauphin, whom he hated worse, it
loosened the bond between him and our foes, and we had hoped it
might bring about a better state of things for our party. Yet
alas!--this seemed as far as ever from being so; and the Burgundian
soldiers still ravaged along our borders, and it seemed ofttimes as
though we little loyal community of the Duchy of Bar would be
swallowed up altogether betwixt the two encroaching foes. So our
hearts were often heavy and our faces grave with fear.

I noted in the manner of the Governor, whose guest I had now
become, a great gravity, which in old days had not been there; for
Robert de Baudricourt, as I remembered him, had ever been a man of
merry mood, with a great laugh, a ready jest, and that sort of
rough, bluff courage that makes light of trouble and peril.

Now, however, we often saw him sunk in some deep reverie, his chin
upon his hand, his eyes gazing full into the blaze of the leaping
fire of logs, which always flamed upon the hearth in the great
hall, where the most part of his time was spent. He would go
hunting or hawking by day, or ride hither and thither through the
town, looking into matters there, or sit to listen to the affairs
of the citizens or soldiers as they were brought before him; and at
such times his manner would be much as it had ever been of
yore--quick, almost rough, yet not unkindly--whilst the shrewd
justice he always meted out won the respect of the people, and made
him a favourite in the town.

But when the evening fell, and the day's work was done, and after
supper we sat in the hall, with the dogs slumbering around us,
talking of any news which might have come in, either of raids by
the roving Burgundians, or the advance of the English towards
Orleans, then these darker moods would fall upon him; and once when
he had sat for well-nigh an hour without moving, his brow drawn and
furrowed, and his eyes seemingly sunk deeper in his head, Bertrand
leaned towards me and whispered in mine ear:

"He is thinking of the Maid of Domremy!"

De Baudricourt could not have heard the words, yet when he spoke a
brief while later, it almost seemed as though he might have done
so.

"Nephew," he said, lifting his head abruptly and gazing across at
us, "tell me again the words of that prophecy of Merlin's, spoken
long, long ago, of which men whisper in these days, and of which
you did speak to me awhile back."

"Marry, good mine uncle, the pro