multitude of counsellors with whom he must needs surround himself,
though his heart ever inclined towards the Maid.

"I speak that which my Lord gives me to speak," she answered, her
wonderful eyes full upon the King. "Shall I be believed?"

"If you speak that which is reasonable and profitable, I will
certainly believe you," he answered, still uneasy beneath her look.

"Shall I be believed?" she questioned a third time, and there was a
fire in her eyes which seemed to leap out and scathe the
pusillanimous monarch as he sat quaking in his Council.

"Speak, Maiden," he cried out then, "I at least will believe!"

"Then, noble Dauphin," she cried, "order your army to assault this
city of Troyes, where such despite has been done you, and hold no
more councils; for my Lord has told me that within three days I
shall lead you into the town, and false Burgundy and proud England
shall there be overthrown!"

"Pouf!" cried the Chancellor, one of the Maid's worst foes, "if
there was a chance of doing such a thing in six days we would
willingly wait; but--"

He stopped suddenly--none knew why, save that the Maid's eyes were
fixed full upon him, and in those eyes was that strange shining
light which some of us knew so well. She did not speak to him, but
when his voice suddenly wavered and broke, she addressed herself to
the King, speaking as one who repeats a message.

"You shall be master of the city of Troyes, noble Dauphin, not in
six days--but tomorrow."

And even as she spoke, without waiting for any response, she turned
and went forth, walking with her head well up, and her eyes fixed
straight before her, yet as one who walks in sleep, and pays no
heed to what lies before him. She called for her horse; and leaping
into the saddle, rode out bareheaded in the summer sun to the camp
where the soldiers lay, in doubt and wonderment at this delay; and
as they sprang up to a man at sight of her, and broke into the
acclamations which always greeted her appearance amongst them, she
lifted up her clear ringing voice and cried:

"Be ready, my children, against the morrow, confess your sins, make
your peace with God and man. For tomorrow He will lead you
victorious into yonder frowning city, and not a hair of your heads
shall suffer!"

They crowded about her, filling the air with shouts of triumph;
they clamoured to be led at once against the grim frowning walls. I
verily believe, had she put herself at their head then and t