or otherwise it might not be) she best knew how to devise deep schemes
and subtle stratagem of war.

Setting forth, therefore, early in April, on the fifteenth day of the
month she came to Melun, a town some seven leagues south of Paris, that
had lately yielded to the King. Bidding me walk with her, she went afoot
about the walls, considering what they lacked of strength, and how they
might best be repaired, and bidding me write down all in a little book.
Now we two, and no other, were walking by the dry fosse of Melun, the day
being very fair and warm for that season, the flowers blossoming, and the
birds singing so sweet and loud as never I heard them before or since
that day.

The Maid stood still to listen, holding up her hand to me for silence,
when, lo! in one moment, in the midst of merry music, the birds hushed
suddenly.

As I marvelled, for there was not a cloud in the sky, nor a breath of
cold wind, I beheld the Maid standing as I had seen her stand in the
farmyard of the mill by St. Denis. Her head was bare, and her face was
white as snow. So she stood while one might count a hundred, and if ever
any could say that he had seen the Maid under fear, it was now. As I
watched and wondered, she fell on her knees, like one in prayer, and with
her eyes set and straining, and with clasped hands, she said these
words--"Tell me of that day, and that hour, or grant me, of your grace,
that in the same hour I may die."

Then she was silent for short space, and then, having drawn herself upon
her knees for three paces or four, she very reverently bowed down, and
kissed the ground.

Thereafter she arose, and beholding me wan, I doubt not, she gently laid
her hand upon my shoulder, and, smiling most sweetly, she said--

"I know not what thou hast seen or heard, but promise, on thine honour,
that thou wilt speak no word to any man, save in confession only, while I
bear arms for France."

Then humbly, and with tears, I vowed as she had bidden me, whereto she
only said--

"Come, we loiter, and I have much to do, for the day is short."

But whether the birds sang again, or stinted, I know not, for I marked it
not.

But she set herself, as before, to consider the walls and the fosses,
bidding me write down in my little book what things were needful. Nor
was her countenance altered in any fashion, nor was her wit less clear;
but when we had seen all that was to be looked to, she bade me call the
chief men of the