approval, and the Sunflower said:

"That is the very thing--it settles every difficulty. The Sieur de Conte
will easily agree to that. Yes, he will march at the back of Captain
Paladin and die early, covered with common-soldier glory."

"He will march with Jean and Pierre, and live till these wars are
forgotten," Joan muttered; "and at the eleventh hour Noel and the
Paladin will join these, but not of their own desire." The voice was so
low that I was not perfectly sure that these were the words, but they
seemed to be. It makes one feel creepy to hear such things.

"Come, now," Noel continued, "it's all arranged; there's nothing to do
but organize under the Paladin's banner and go forth and rescue France.
You'll all join?"

All said yes, except Jacques d'Arc, who said:

"I'll ask you to excuse me. It is pleasant to talk war, and I am with
you there, and I've always thought I should go soldiering about this
time, but the look of our wrecked village and that carved-up and bloody
madman have taught me that I am not made for such work and such sights.
I could never be at home in that trade. Face swords and the big guns and
death? It isn't in me. No, no; count me out. And besides, I'm the eldest
son, and deputy prop and protector of the family. Since you are going to
carry Jean and Pierre to the wars, somebody must be left behind to take
care of our Joan and her sister. I shall stay at home, and grow old in
peace and tranquillity."

"He will stay at home, but not grow old," murmured Joan.

The talk rattled on in the gay and careless fashion privileged to youth,
and we got the Paladin to map out his campaigns and fight his battles
and win his victories and extinguish the English and put our King upon
his throne and set his crown upon his head. Then we asked him what he
was going to answer when the King should require him to name his
reward. The Paladin had it all arranged in his head, and brought it out
promptly:

"He shall give me a dukedom, name me premier peer, and make me
Hereditary Lord High Constable of France."

"And marry you to a princess--you're not going to leave that out, are
you?"

The Paladin colored a trifle, and said, brusquely:

"He may keep his princesses--I can marry more to my taste."

Meaning Joan, though nobody suspected it at that time. If any had, the
Paladin would have been finely ridiculed for his vanity. There was no
fit mate in that village for Joan of Arc. Every one would have said