other matter to think of now. We started for the village on a run, to
give warning, and get Joan out of her peril; though for one, after seeing
what I had seen, it seemed to me that while Joan had the ax the man's
chance was not the best of the two. When we arrived the danger was past,
the madman was in custody. All the people were flocking to the little
square in front of the church to talk and exclaim and wonder over the
event, and it even made the town forget the black news of the treaty for
two or three hours.

All the women kept hugging and kissing Joan, and praising her, and
crying, and the men patted her on the head and said they wished she was a
man, they would send her to the wars and never doubt but that she would
strike some blows that would be heard of. She had to tear herself away
and go and hide, this glory was so trying to her diffidence.

Of course the people began to ask us for the particulars. I was so
ashamed that I made an excuse to the first comer, and got privately away
and went back to the Fairy Tree, to get relief from the embarrassment of
those questionings. There I found Joan, but she was there to get relief
from the embarrassment of glory. One by one the others shirked the
inquirers and joined us in our refuge. Then we gathered around Joan, and
asked her how she had dared to do that thing. She was very modest about
it, and said:

"You make a great thing of it, but you mistake; it was not a great
matter. It was not as if I had been a stranger to the man. I know him,
and have known him long; and he knows me, and likes me. I have fed him
through the bars of his cage many times; and last December, when they
chopped off two of his fingers to remind him to stop seizing and wounding
people passing by, I dressed his hand every day till it was well again."