but of course I could not know that.

I was coming to the tent at that moment, and saw him come out, and
saw him march away in that large fashion, and indeed it was fine and
beautiful to see. But when I got to the tent door I stopped and stepped
back, grieved and shocked, for I heard Joan crying, as I mistakenly
thought--crying as if she could not contain nor endure the anguish of
her soul, crying as if she would die. But it was not so, she was
laughing--laughing at La Hire's prayer.

It was not until six-and-thirty years afterward that I found that out,
and then--oh, then I only cried when that picture of young care-free
mirth rose before me out of the blur and mists of that long-vanished
time; for there had come a day between, when God's good gift of laughter
had gone out from me to come again no more in this life.

(1) This prayer has been stolen many times and by many nations in the
past four hundred and sixty years, but it originated with La Hire, and
the fact is of official record in the National Archives of France. We
have the authority of Michelet for this.--TRANSLATOR

Chapter 13 Checked by the Folly of the Wise

WE MARCHED out in great strength and splendor, and took the road toward
Orleans. The initial part of Joan's great dream was realizing itself at
last. It was the first time that any of us youngsters had ever seen an
army, and it was a most stately and imposing spectacle to us. It was
indeed an inspiring sight, that interminable column, stretching
away into the fading distances, and curving itself in and out of the
crookedness of the road like a mighty serpent. Joan rode at the head of
it with her personal staff; then came a body of priests singing the Veni
Creator, the banner of the Cross rising out of their midst; after these
the glinting forest of spears. The several divisions were commanded by
the great Armagnac generals, La Hire, and Marshal de Boussac, the Sire
de Retz, Florent d'Illiers, and Poton de Saintrailles.

Each in his degree was tough, and there were three degrees--tough,
tougher, toughest--and La Hire was the last by a shade, but only a shade.
They were just illustrious official brigands, the whole party; and
by long habits of lawlessness they had lost all acquaintanceship with
obedience, if they had ever had any.

But what was the good of saying that? These independent birds knew no
law. They seldom obeyed the King; they never obeyed him when it didn't
suit them to do it