disposition being toward peace and quietness, and love for all things
that have life; and being made like this, how could I bear to think of
wars and blood, and the pain that goes with them, and the sorrow and
mourning that follow after? But by his angels God laid His great commands
upon me, and could I disobey? I did as I was bid. Did He command me to do
many things? No; only two: to raise the siege of Orleans, and crown the
King at Rheims. The task is finished, and I am free. Has ever a poor
soldier fallen in my sight, whether friend or foe, and I not felt the
pain in my own body, and the grief of his home-mates in my own heart? No,
not one; and, oh, it is such bliss to know that my release is won, and
that I shall not any more see these cruel things or suffer these tortures
of the mind again! Then why should I not go to my village and be as I was
before? It is heaven! and ye wonder that I desire it. Ah, ye are
men--just men! My mother would understand."

They didn't quite know what to say; so they sat still awhile, looking
pretty vacant. Then old D'Arc said:

"Yes, your mother--that is true. I never saw such a woman. She worries,
and worries, and worries; and wakes nights, and lies so, thinking--that
is, worrying; worrying about you. And when the night storms go raging
along, she moans and says, 'Ah, God pity her, she is out in this with her
poor wet soldiers.' And when the lightning glares and the thunder crashes
she wrings her hands and trembles, saying, 'It is like the awful cannon
and the flash, and yonder somewhere she is riding down upon the spouting
guns and I not there to protect her."

"Ah, poor mother, it is pity, it is pity!"

"Yes, a most strange woman, as I have noticed a many times. When there is