How should Pierre know that this was the cry with which the Maid
had rallied her broken men at Orleans when the fort of _Les
Tourelles_ fell? What he did know was that something seemed to
spring up within him to answer that call. He felt that he would
rather die than desert such a leader.

The figure on the horse turned away as if to go.

"Do not leave me," he cried, stretching out his hands to her. "Stay
with me. I will obey you joyfully."

She turned again and looked at him very earnestly. Her eyes shone
deep into his heart. "Here I cannot stay," answered a low, sweet,
womanly voice. "It is late, and my other children need me."

"But forgiveness? Can you give that to me--a coward?"

"You are no coward. Your only fault was to doubt a brave man."

"And my wife? May I go back and tell her?"

"No, surely. Would you make her hear slander of the man she loves?
Be what she believes you and she will be satisfied."

"And the absolution, the word of peace? Will you speak that to me?"

Her eyes shone more clearly; the voice sounded sweeter and steadier
than ever. "After the penance comes the absolution. You will find
peace only at the lance's point. Son of France, go, go, go! I will
help you. Go hardily to Verdun."