ities which Charles the Bold inflicted upon the men and
women and children of Dinant when he took that place some years ago. It
was a unique and kindly grace which Joan offered that garrison; but that
was her way, that was her loving and merciful nature--she always did her
best to save her enemy's life and his soldierly pride when she had the
mastery of him.

The English asked fifteen days' armistice to consider the proposal
in. And Fastolfe coming with five thousand men! Joan said no. But she
offered another grace: they might take both their horses and their
side-arms--but they must go within the hour.

Well, those bronzed English veterans were pretty hard-headed folk. They
declined again. Then Joan gave command that her army be made ready to
move to the assault at nine in the morning. Considering the deal of
marching and fighting which the men had done that day, D'Alencon thought
the hour rather early; but Joan said it was best so, and so must be
obeyed. Then she burst out with one of those enthusiasms which were
always burning in her when battle was imminent, and said:

"Work! work! and God will work with us!"

Yes, one might say that her motto was "Work! stick to it; keep on
working!" for in war she never knew what indolence was. And whoever will
take that motto and live by it will likely to succeed. There's many a
way to win in this world, but none of them is worth much without good
hard work back out of it.

I think we should have lost our big Standard-Bearer that day, if our
bigger Dwarf had not been at hand to bring him out of the melee when he
was wounded. He was unconscious, and would have been trampled to death
by our own horse, if the Dwarf had not promptly rescued him and haled
him to the rear and safety. He recovered, and was himself again after
two or three hours; and then he was happy and proud, and made the most
of his wound, and went swaggering around in his bandages showing off
like an innocent big-child--which was just what he was. He was prouder of
being wounded than a really modest person would be of being killed. But
there was no harm in his vanity, and nobody minded it. He said he was
hit by a stone from a catapult--a stone the size of a man's head. But
the stone grew, of course. Before he got through with it he was claiming
that the enemy had flung a building at him.

"Let him alone," said Noel Rainguesson. "Don't interrupt his processes.
To-morrow it will be a cathedral."

He said that