So that weary day went by, one of the longest that I have known, and
other days, till now the leech said that I might go back to the castle,
though that I might march to the wars he much misdoubted. Among the
archers I had the best of greetings, and all quarrels were laid by, for,
as was said, we were to set forth to Orleans, where would be blows enough
to stay the greediest stomach. For now the Maid had won all hearts,
taking some with her piety, and others with her wit and knowledge, that
confounded the doctors, how she, a simple wench, was so subtle in
doctrine, which might not be but by inspiration. Others, again, were
moved by her mirth and good-fellowship, for she would strike a man-at-
arms on the shoulder like a comrade, and her horsemanship and deftness
with sword and lance bewitched others, she seeming as valiant and fair as
these lady crusaders of whom old romances tell. And others, again, she
gained by bourdes and jests; others by her manners, the fairest and most
courtly that might be, for she, a manant's daughter, bore herself as an
equal before the blood of France, and was right dear to the young bride
of the fair Duc d'Alencon. Yet was there about her such a grace of
purity, as of one descended from the skies, that no man of them all was
so hardy as to speak to her of love, or even so much as to think thereof
in the secret of his heart.

So all reported of her, and she had let write a letter to the English at
Orleans, bidding them yield to God and the Maid, and begone to their own
country, lest a worse thing befall them. At this letter they mocked,
swearing that they would burn her heralds who carried the message. But
the King had named her chief of war, and given her a household, with a
good esquire, Jean d'Aulon, to govern it, and all that beseems noble or
royal blood. New armour had been made for her, all of steel and silver,
and there was talk of a sword that she had come by in no common way, but
through revelation of the saints. For she being in Tours had it revealed
to her that a certain ancient sword, with five crosses on the blade, lay
buried behind the altar of St. Catherine of Fierbois. An armourer of
Tours was therefore sent thither, and after much labour and search they
of St. Catherine's Church found that sword, very ancient, and much
bestained with rust. Howbeit, they cleaned it and made for it a sheath
of cloth of gold. Nevertheless, the Maid wore it in a leathern scabbard.