fashion, lest haply he should be found to be fighting against God;
and yet he found it hard to believe that any deliverance for
hapless France could come through the hands of a simple, unlettered
peasant girl; and he shrank with a strong man's dislike from making
himself in any sort an object of ridicule, or of seeming to give
credence to a wild tale of visions and voices, such as the world
would laugh to scorn. So he was filled with doubt and perplexity,
and this betrayed itself in gloomy looks and in harsh speech.

"Tush, boy! You are but an idle dreamer. I saw before that you were
fooled by a pretty face and a silvery voice. Go to!--your words are
but phantasy! Who believes in miracles now?"

"If we believe in the power of the good God, shall we not also
believe that He can work even miracles at His holy will?"

"Poof--miracles!--the dreams of a vain and silly girl!" scoffed De
Baudricourt, "I am sick of her name already!"

Then he suddenly turned upon me and spoke.

"Jean de Metz, you are a knight of parts. You have sense and
discretion above your years, and are no featherhead like Bertrand
here. Will you undertake a mission from me to this maiden? Ask of
her the story of her pretended mission. Seek to discover from her
whether she be speaking truth, or whether she be seeking to
deceive. Catch her in her speech if it may be. See whether the tale
she tells hang together, and then come and report to me. If she be
a mad woman, why should I be troubled with her? She cannot go to
the Dauphin yet, come what may. The melting snows have laid the