shadows, whilst Jeanne, with bent head and lingering, graceful
steps, utterly unconscious of the eyes that watched her, went
slowly out of sight along the glade leading towards the village and
her home.

Only when she had disappeared did we venture to move on in her
wake, and so passed by the low-browed house, set in its well-tended
little garden, where the d'Arc family lived. It lay close to the
church, and bore a look of pleasant homelike comfort. We saw Jeanne
bending tenderly over a chair, in which reclined the bent form of a
little crippled sister. We even heard the soft, sweet voice of the
Maid, as she answered some question asked her from within the open
door. Then she lifted the bent form in her arms, and I did note how
strong that slim frame must be, for the burden seemed as nothing to
her as she bore it within the house; and then she disappeared from
view, and we rode onwards together.

"There, my friend," spoke Bertrand at last, "I have kept my
promise, you have seen the Maid."

"Yes," I answered gravely, "I have seen the Maid," and after that
we spoke no word for many a mile.



CHAPTER III. HOW THE MAID CAME TO VAUCOULEURS.


It may yet be remembered by some how early the snow came that year,
to the eastern portion of France at least. I think scarce a week