Betimes in the morning I was awakened by the sound of her moving about
through the house, and having dressed and gone forth from my little
chamber, I found her in the house-place, she having come from early Mass.
She took little heed of me, giving me some bread and wine, the same as
she and her father took; and she was altogether less gay and wilful than
she had been, and there seemed to be something that lay heavy on her
mind. When her father asked her if the gossips at the church door had
given her any more tidings of the Maid, she did but frown, and soon left
the chamber, whence my master led me forth into his booth, and bade me
show him my hand in writing. This pleased him not ill, and next I must
grind colours to his liking; and again he went about his business, while
I must mind the booth, and be cap in hand to every saucy page that came
from the castle with an order from his lord.

Full many a time my hand was on my whinger, and yet more often I wished
myself on the free road again, so that I were out of ill company, and
assuredly the Lorrainer Maid, whatever she might be, was scarcely longing
more than I for the day when she should unfurl her banner and march, with
me at her back, to Orleans. For so irksome was my servitude, and the
laying of colours on the ground of banners for my master to paint, and
the copying of books of Hours and Missals, and the insolence of customers
worse born than myself, that I could have drowned myself in the Vienne
water but for the sight of Elliot. Yet she was become staid enough, and
betimes sad; as it seemed that there was no good news of her dear Maid,
for the King would not see her, and all men (it appeared), save those who
had ridden with her, mocked the Pucelle for a bold ramp, with a bee in
her bonnet. But the two gentlemen that had been her escort were staunch.
Their names were Jean de Metz and Bertrand de Poulengy, good esquires.