ell ceased we had no
more power to move than our horses. Why we were holden by this
strange spell I know not. I can only speak the truth. We saw
nothing and we heard nothing of any miraculous kind, and yet we
were like men in a dream, bound hand and foot by invisible bonds, a
witness of something unseen to ourselves, which we saw was visible
to another.

Beneath the deep shadow of the oaks we looked back. The Maid had
risen to her feet by this, and was stooping to pick up her fallen
work. That done, she stood awhile in deep thought, her face turned
towards the little church, whence the bell had only just ceased to
sound.

I saw her clearly then--a maiden slim and tall, so slender that the
rather clumsy peasant dress she wore could not give breadth or
awkwardness to her lithe figure. The coif had slipped a little out
of place, and some tresses of waving hair had escaped from beneath
it, tresses that looked dark till the sun touched them, and then
glowed like burnished gold. Her face was pale, with features in no
way marked, but so sweet and serene was the expression of the face,
so wonderful was the depth of the great dark eyes, that one was
lost in admiration of her beauty, albeit unable to define wherein
that beauty lay.

When we started forth, I had meant to try and seek speech with this
Jeanne--this Maid of Domremy--and to ask her of her mission, and
whether she were still believing that she would have power to carry
it out; but this purpose now died within me.

How could I dare question such a being as to her visions? Had I not
seen how she was visited by sound or sight not sensible to those
around her? Had I not in some sort been witness to a miracle? Was
it for us to approach and ask of her what had been thus revealed?
No!--a thousand times no! If the good God had given her a message,
she would know when and where to deliver it. She had spoken before
of her voices. Let them instruct her. Let not men seek to
interfere. And so we remained where we were, hidden in the deep
shadows, whilst Jeanne, with bent head and lingering, graceful
steps, utterly unconscious of the eyes that watched her, went
slowly out of sight along the glade leading towards the village and
her home.

Only when she had disappeared did we venture to move on in her
wake, and so passed by the low-browed house, set in its well-tended
little garden, where the d'Arc family lived. It lay close to the
church, and bore a look of pleasant homelik