could speak with me. For D'Aulon, and Pasquerel, and Pierre du Lys had
all been taken with the Maid. It was long indeed before Pierre du Lys
was free, for he had no money to ransom himself withal. Therefore Flavy,
knowing me only for a wounded Scot of the Maid's, would think me a brain-
sick man, and as like as not give me more of Oise river to drink than I
craved.

With these reasonings it behoved me to content myself. The night I
passed in prayers for the Maid, and for myself, that I might yet do
justice on that devil, or, at least, might see justice done. But how
these orisons were answered shall be seen in the end, whereto I now
hasten.

CHAPTER XXVII--HOW NORMAN LESLIE FARED IN COMPIEGNE, WITH THE END OFTHAT
LEAGUER

About all that befell in the besieged city of Compiegne, after that
wicked day of destiny when the Maid was taken, I heard for long only from
the Jacobin brothers, and from one Barthelemy Barrette. He was a Picardy
man, more loyal than most of his country, who had joined the Maid after
the fray at Paris. Now he commanded a hundred of her company, who did
not scatter after she was taken, and he was the best friend I then had.

"The burgesses are no whit dismayed," said he, coming into my chamber
after the day of the Ascension, which was the second after the capture of
the Maid. "They have sent a messenger to the King, and expect succour."

"They sue for grace at a graceless face," said I, in the country proverb;
for my heart was hot against King Charles.

"That is to be seen," said be. "But assuredly the Duke of Burgundy is
more keen about his own business."

"How fare the Burgundians?" I asked, "for, indeed, I have heard the guns
speak since dawn, but none of the good fathers cares to go even on to the
roof of the church tower and bring me tidings, for fear of a stray cannon-
ball."

"For holy men they are wondrous chary of their lives," said Barthelemy,
laughing. "Were I a monk, I would welcome death that should unfrock me,
and let me go a-wandering in Paradise among these fair lady saints we see
in the pictures."

"It is written, Barthelemy, that there is neither marrying nor giving in
marriage."

"Faith, the more I am fain of it," said Barthelemy, "and may be I might
take the wrong track, and get into the Paradise of Mahound, which, I have
heard, is no ill place for a man-at-arms."

This man had no more faith than a paynim, but, none the less, was a stout
carl in war