"He will not answer me. I am a wicked man. Father, I have made my
confession. Will you give me a penance and absolve me?"

"Promise to go back to the army and fight as well as you can."

"Alas! that is what I cannot do. My mind is shaken to pieces.
Whither shall I turn? I can decide nothing. I am broken. I repent
of my great sin. Father, for the love of God, speak the word of
absolution."

Pierre lay on his face, motionless, his arms stretched out. The
priest rose and went to the spring. He scooped up a few drops in
the hollow of his hand. He sprinkled it like holy water upon the
soldier's head. A couple of tears fell with it.

"God have pity on you, my son, and bring you back to yourself.
The word of absolution is not for me to speak while you think of
forsaking France. Put that thought away from you, do penance for
it, and you will be absolved from your great sin."

Pierre turned over and lay looking up at the priest's face and at
the blue sky with white cloude drifting across it. He sighed. "Ah,
if that could only be! But I have not the strength. It is impossible."

"All things are possible to him that believeth. Strength will
come. Perhaps Jeanne d'Arc herself will help you."

"She would never speak to a man like me. She is a great saint, very
high in heaven."