e they had had to rejoice over a French exploit.
You may guess that they made good use of it. They and the bells went mad.
Joan was their darling now, and the press of people struggling and
shouldering each other to get a glimpse of her was so great that we could
hardly push our way through the streets at all. Her new name had gone all
about, and was on everybody's lips. The Holy Maid of Vaucouleurs was a
forgotten title; the city had claimed her for its own, and she was the
MAID OF ORLEANS now. It is a happiness to me to remember that I heard
that name the first time it was ever uttered. Between that first
utterance and the last time it will be uttered on this earth--ah, think
how many moldering ages will lie in that gap!

The Boucher family welcomed her back as if she had been a child of the
house, and saved from death against all hope or probability. They chided
her for going into the battle and exposing herself to danger during all
those hours. They could not realize that she had meant to carry her
warriorship so far, and asked her if it had really been her purpose to go
right into the turmoil of the fight, or hadn't she got swept into it by
accident and the rush of the troops? They begged her to be more careful
another time. It was good advice, maybe, but it fell upon pretty
unfruitful soil.

Chapter 19 We Burst In Upon Ghosts

BEING WORN out with the long fight, we all slept the rest of the
afternoon away and two or three hours into the night. Then we got up
refreshed, and had supper. As for me, I could have been willing to let
the matter of the ghost drop; and the others were of a like mind, no
doubt, for they talked diligently of the battle and said nothing of that
other thing. And indeed it was fine and stirring to hear the Paladin
rehearse his deeds and see him pile his dead, fifteen here, eighteen
there, and thirty-five yonder; but this only postponed the trouble; it
could not do more. He could not go on forever; when he had carried the
bastille by assault and eaten up the garrison there was nothing for it
but to stop, unless Catherine Boucher would give him a new start and have
it all done over again--as we hoped she would, this time--but she was
otherwise minded. As soon as there was a good opening and a fair chance,
she brought up her unwelcome subject, and we faced it the best we could.

We followed her and her parents to the haunted room at eleven o'clock,
with candles, and also with torches to p