majestic, honest regard soon gave her confidence. He bade her once more
to be good, and that God would help her; then he told her the sad
story of her own suffering country, _la pitié qui estoit au royaume de
France_. Was it the pity of heaven that the archangel reported to the
little trembling girl, or only that which woke with the word in her own
childish soul? He has chosen the small things of this world to confound
the great. Jeanne's young heart was full of pity already, and of
yearning over the helpless mother-country which had no champion to stand
for her. "She had great doubts at first whether it was St. Michael, but
afterwards when he had instructed her and shown her many things, she
believed firmly that it was he."

It was this warrior-angel who opened the matter to her, and disclosed
her mission. "Jeanne," he said, "you must go to the help of the King of
France; and it is you who shall give him back his kingdom." Like a still
greater Maid, trembling, casting in her mind what this might mean, she
replied, confused, as if that simple detail were all: "Messire, I am
only a poor girl; I cannot ride or lead armed men." The vision took
no notice of this plea. He became minute in his directions, indicating
exactly what she was to do. "Go to Messire de Baudricourt, captain of
Vaucouleurs, and he will take you to the King. St. Catherine and
St. Margaret will come and help you." Jeanne was overwhelmed by this
exactness, by the sensation of receiving direct orders. She cried,
weeping and helpless, terrified to the bottom of her soul--What was she
that she should do this? a little girl, able to guide nothing but her
needle or her distaff, to lend her simple aid in nursing a sick child.
But behind all her fright and hesitation, her heart was filled with the
emotion thus suggested to her--the immeasurable _pitié que estoit au
royaume de France_. Her heart became heavy with this burden. By degrees
it came about that she could think of nothing else; and her little