Collected Works of Eugène Sue

by Eugène Sue

  Greatly flattered by the curiosity of the beautiful young girl concerning his military feats, even imagining that she was perhaps more interested in the warrior than in the war, the sergeant answered gallantly all the questions put by Joan. On her part, she listened to him with such rapt attention, and seemed by the fire in her eyes and the animation on her face to take so profound an interest in the conversation, that James Darc felt indignant thinking that the military carriage of the soldier was turning Joan’s head. The eyes of the indignant father shot daggers at the soldier. Joan, too much preoccupied with her own thoughts, did not notice the rising anger of her parent, but plied her questions. With secret sorrow she learned then that, driven back beyond the Loire after a recent battle called the “Battle of the Herrings,” the royal army had fled in disorder; that the English were besieging Orleans; and that, once the city was taken and Touraine invaded, the fate of the King and of France would be sealed, all his domains would then be in the hands of the English.

  “Is there then no help for Gaul?” cried Joan, a prey to inexpressible exaltation. “Is all lost?”

  “If the siege of Orleans is not raised within a month,” answered the sergeant; “if the English are not driven back far from the Loire, then France will cease to exist! And this is as true as you are the most beautiful maid of Lorraine. Blood of Christ! When a little while ago you had my casque on your head, I thought I had before me the goddess of war. With a captain such as you, I would attack a whole army single-handed!”

  At these words James Darc rose abruptly from the table; he told his guest that night was approaching, and country people, who rose with the sun, also retired with the sun. Cross at being thus bade to go, the sergeant slowly picked up his arms and sought to catch Joan’s eyes. But the maid, wholly forgetful of the soldier, now sat on her stool steeped in painful meditations, thinking only of the fresh disasters of Gaul, at which her tears flowed freely.

  “There can now be no doubt left,” the peasant said to himself, “my daughter, so chaste and so pious until this day, has suddenly gone crazy over this braggart; she is weeping over his departure. Shame upon her and us! A curse upon the hospitality that I have extended to this stranger! May the devil take him!”

  After the guest had gone, James Darc’s face assumed an expression of intense severity. Barely repressing his indignation, he stepped up to his daughter, took her rudely by the arm, motioned her imperiously to the stairs, and cried:

  “Go upstairs! There has been enough palavering to-day. I shall talk to you to-morrow!”

  Still absorbed in her own racking thoughts, Joan obeyed her father mechanically. When she regained her own room, the latter proceeded, addressing his sons, both of whom were surprised at their father’s rudeness towards their sister:

  “May God help us! Did you notice the manner in which Joan looked at the sergeant? Oh, if she ever fell in love with a soldier, it would be your duty to drown her with your own hands; or, I swear it, I would sooner strangle her myself.”

  The peasant uttered the words with such an explosion of rage that Joan heard him. She understood the mistake her father had fallen into, and wept. But soon “her voices” whispered to her:

  “The time has arrived. Without you France and her King are lost — Go, daughter of God! — Save your King — Save France! — The Lord is with you — You are about to enter upon your mission.”

  CHAPTER XV.

  CAPTAIN ROBERT OF BAUDRICOURT.

  ROBERT OF BAUDRICOURT, the commander-in-chief of Vaucouleurs, a man in the prime of life, of military bearing and of a face whose harshness was relieved by intelligent and penetrating eyes, was walking in nervous excitement up and down a hall in the castle of the town. Instructed by a recent despatch of the desperate position of Charles VII and the danger Orleans ran from the close siege of the English, the captain walked at a rapid pace, grumbling, blaspheming and shaking the floor under the impatient beat of his spurred heels. Suddenly a leather curtain, that concealed the principal entrance to the hall, was pushed aside and revealed a part of the timid and frightened face of Denis Laxart, Joan’s grand uncle. Robert of Baudricourt did not notice the good man; he stamped with his feet on the floor, struck the table a violent blow with his fist near where lay the fatal despatch he had just received, and cried:

  “Death and fury! It is done for France and the King! All is lost, even honor!”

  At this exclamation of exasperation, the courage of Denis Laxart failed him; he dared not approach the captain at such a moment, and he reclosed the curtain, behind which, however, he remained standing awaiting a more opportune moment. But the rage of Robert of Baudricourt redoubled. He again stamped on the floor and cried:

  “Malediction! All is lost — all!”

  “No, sir! No, all is not lost!” said the good Denis Laxart, resolutely overcoming his fear, but still remaining behind the shelter of the curtain. A second later he pushed his head through the portiere and repeated: “No, sir; all is not lost!”

  Hearing the timid voice, the captain turned around; he recognized the old man, whom he rather esteemed, and asked in a rough voice:

  “What are you doing at that door? Walk in — why do you not walk in?” But seeing that Denis hesitated, he added still more gruffly: “The devil take it! Will you come in!”

  “Here I am, sir — Here I am,” said Denis stepping in; “but for the love of God, do not fly off in such a temper; I bring you good news — news — that is unexpected — miraculous news. All is not lost, sir — on the contrary — all is saved. Both King and Gaul!”

  “Denis!” replied the captain, casting a threatening look at Joan’s uncle, “If your hair were not grey, I would have you whipped out of the castle with a sword’s scabbard! Dare you joke! To speak of the safety of King and France under such circumstances as we find ourselves in!”

  “Sir, I beseech you, listen without anger to what I have to tell you, however incredible it may seem! I do not look like a clown, and you know me long. Be good enough to listen to me patiently.”

  “I know you, and know you for a good and wise man; hence your incongruous words shock me all the more. Come on, speak!”

  “Sir, as you see, my forehead is bathed in perspiration, my voice chokes me, I am trembling at every limb; and yet I have not even begun to inform you why I came here. If you interrupt me with outbursts of rage, I shall lose the thread of my thoughts—”

  “By the bowels of God! Come on! What is it!”

  Denis Laxart made a great effort over himself, and after having collected his thoughts he said to the captain in a hurried voice:

  “I went yesterday to Domremy to see my niece, who is married to James Darc, an honest peasant from whom she has two sons and a daughter. The daughter is called Jeannette and is seventeen years—”

  Noticing that the captain’s ill restrained impatience was on the point of exploding at the exordium, Denis hastened to add:

  “I am coming to the point, sir, which will seem surprising, prodigious to you. Last evening, my little niece Jeannette said to me: ‘Good uncle, you know Captain Robert of Baudricourt; you must take me to him.’”

  “What does your niece want of me?”

  “She wants, sir, to reveal to you what she told me yesterday evening without the knowledge of her parents, without the knowledge even of Master Minet, the curate — that mysterious voices have long been announcing to her that she would drive the English from Gaul by placing herself at the head of the King’s troops, and that she would restore to him his crown.”

  Struck dumb by the extravagance of these words, Robert of Baudricourt could now hardly contain himself; he was on the point of brutally driving poor Denis out of the hall. Nevertheless, controlling his rage out of consideration for the venerable old man, he retorted caustically:

  “Is that the secret your niece wishes to confide to me? It is a singular revelation!”

  “Yes, sir — and she then proposes to ask you for the means to reach the gentle Dauphin, our Si
re, whom she is absolutely determined to inform of the mission that the Lord has destined to her — the deliverance of Gaul and the King. I must admit it to you, I was struck by the sincerity of Jeannette’s tone when she narrated to me her visions of saints and archangels, when she told me how she heard the mysterious voices that have pursued her for the last three years, telling her that she was the virgin whose advent Merlin foretold for the deliverance of Gaul.”

  “So you have confidence in your niece’s sincerity?” asked the captain with a mixture of contempt and compassion, interrupting the old man whom he considered either stupid or crazy. “So you attach credence to the words of the girl?”

  “Never did anyone reproach my niece with falsehood. Therefore, yielding to her entreaties, I yesterday evening obtained from her father, who seemed greatly irritated at his daughter, permission for her to accompany me, under the pretext of spending a few days in town with my wife. This morning I left Domremy at dawn with my niece on the crupper of my horse. We arrived in town an hour ago. My niece is waiting for me at home, where I am to take her your answer.”

  “Well! This is my answer: That brazen and insane girl should have both her ears soundly cuffed, and she should be taken back to her parents for them to continue the punishment. Master Denis Laxart, I took you for a level-headed man. You are either an old scamp or an old fool. Are not you ashamed, at your age, to attach any faith to such imbecilities, and to have the impudence of coming here with such yarns to me? Death and fury! Off with you! By the five hundred devils of hell — get out, on the spot!”

  CHAPTER XVI.

  AT THE CASTLE OF VAUCOULEURS.

  POOR DENIS LAXART tumbled out of the room and the Castle of Vaucouleurs at his wits’ end; but he soon returned. He did not now come alone. He was accompanied by Joan; his mind was troubled and he trembled at the bare thought of again bearding the bad humor of the Sire of Baudricourt. But so persistently had Joan begged and beseeched her uncle to take her to the terrible captain that he had yielded. The plight of the good man’s mind may be imagined when, now accompanied by the young girl, he again approached the leather curtain or portiere of the hall. The captain was just conversing with John of Novelpont, a knight who lived at Vaucouleurs, and was saying to him, evidently towards the end of a talk: “She is a crazy girl fit for a good cuffing. Don’t you think so too?”

  “What of it, if advantage could be drawn from her craziness!” answered John of Novelpont. “Imagine a man afflicted with some incurable disease and given up by his physicians; being by them condemned to die, someone proposes that he try in extremis a philter of pretended virtue, concocted by some crazy person. Should not our patient try that last chance of recovery? Soldiers and the masses are credulous folks; the announcement of celestial, supernatural help might revive the hopes of the people and the army, raise their courage, and perchance bring victory to them after so many defeats. Would not the consequence of a first success, of a victory over the English, be incalculable?”

  “If but one victory were won,” answered Robert of Baudricourt somewhat less determined in his first views, “our soldiers would regain courage, and they might finally overpower the English.”

  “Why not consent to see the girl? You could question her yourself, and then form an opinion.”

  “A visionary — a cowherd!”

  “In the desperate condition that France is in, what risk is run by resorting to empiricism? It would be sensible to hear the peasant girl. Whether absurd or not, the prophecy of Merlin that she invokes is popular in Gaul. I remember to have heard it told in my infancy. Moreover, everywhere, prophecies are just now afloat in our unhappy country. Tired of looking for deliverance from human, our people are now expecting help from supernatural agencies. Have not the learned clerks of the University of Paris, and even the clergy, resorted to the clairvoyance of men versed in Holy Writ and habituated to a contemplative life? There are conditions when one must risk something — aye, risk everything.”

  “By the death of Christ! Are you there again!” cried Robert of Baudricourt, interrupting his friend at seeing the timid face of Denis Laxart appearing at the slit of the leather curtain. “Are you not afraid of exhausting my patience?”

  Denis made no answer, but vanished behind Joan, who pushed the curtain aside and resolutely stepped towards the two cavaliers. Her uncle followed her with his eyes raised to heaven, his hat in his hands, and trembling at every limb.

  Had Joan been old or homely she would undoubtedly have been instantly driven out by Robert of Baudricourt with contumely. But he, as well as the Sire of Novelpont, was struck with the beauty of the young girl, with her firm yet sweet expression, with her modest and yet confident demeanor. Seized with admiration, the two cavaliers looked at each other in silence. The Sire of Novelpont, shrugging his shoulders, seemed to say to his friend: “Was I wrong when I advised you to see the poor visionary?”

  Robert of Baudricourt was still uncertain as to what reception he should bestow upon Joan, when his friend, meaning to test her, interpellated her, saying: “Well, my child, so the King is to be driven out of France and we are all to become English? Is it to prevent all that that you have come here? Speak up! We shall listen.”

  “Sir,” said Joan in a sweet yet firm voice that bore the stamp of unquestionable sincerity, “I have come to this royal city in order to request the sire Robert of Baudricourt to have me taken to the Dauphin of France. My words have been disregarded. Nevertheless, it is imperative that I be with the King within eight days. If I could not walk, I would creep thither on my knees. There is in the world no captain, duke or prince able to save the kingdom of France without the help that I bring with the assistance of God and His saints;” Joan emitted a sigh, and, her eyes moist with tears, added naïvely: “I would much prefer to remain at our house and sew and spin near my poor mother — but God has assigned a task to me — and I must perform it!”

  “And in what manner will you perform your task?” put in Robert of Baudricourt, no less astonished than his friend at the mixture of assurance, of ingenuous sweetness and of conviction that pervaded the young girl’s answer. “How will you, a plain shepherdess, go about it, in order to vanquish and drive away the English, when Lahire, Xaintrailles, Dunois, Gaucourt, and so many other captains have been beaten and failed?”

  “I shall boldly place myself at the head of the armed men, and, with the help of God, we will win.”

  “My daughter,” replied Robert of Baudricourt with a smile of incredulity, “if God wished to drive the English out of Gaul, He could do so by the sole power of His will; He would need neither you, Joan, nor men-at-arms.”

  “The men-at-arms will battle — God will give the victory,” answered Joan laconically. “Help yourself — heaven will help you.”

  Again the two knights looked at each other, more and more astonished at the language and attitude of this daughter of the fields. Denis Laxart rubbed his hands triumphantly.

  “So, then, Joan,” put in John of Novelpont, “you desire to go to the King?”

  “Yes, sir; to-morrow rather than the day after; rather to-day than to-morrow. The siege of Orleans must be raised within a month. God will give us victory.”

  “And it is you, my pretty child, who will raise the siege of Orleans?”

  “Yes, with the pleasure of God.”

  “Have you any idea what the siege of a town means, and in what it consists?”

  “Oh, sir! It consists of besieged and besiegers. That is very plain.”

  “But the besieged must attempt sallies against the enemy who are entrenched at their gates.”

  “Sir, we are here four in this hall. If we were locked up in here, and we were determined to go out or die, would we not sally forth even if there were ten men at the door?”

  “How?”

  “Fighting bravely — God will do the rest! The besieged will sally forth.”

  “At a siege, my daughter, sallies are not all there is of it. The besiegers surround the to
wn with numerous redoubts or bastilles, furnished with machines for darting bolts and artillery pieces for bombarding, and all are defended with deep moats. How will you take possession of such formidable entrenchments?”

  “I shall be the first to descend into the moats and the first to climb the ladders, while crying to the armed men: ‘Follow me! Let us bravely enter the place! The Lord is with us!’”

  The two knights looked at each other amazed at Joan’s answers. John of Novelpont especially experienced a rising sensation that verged on admiration for the beautiful girl of so naïve a valor. Denis Laxart was thinking apart:

  “My good God! Whence does Jeannette get all these things that she is saying! She talks like a captain! Whence did she draw so much knowledge?”

  “Joan,” resumed Robert of Baudricourt, “if I grant your desire of having you taken to the King, you will have to cross stretches of territory that are in the power of the English. It is a long journey from here to Touraine; you would run great risks.”

  “The Lord God and His good saints will not forsake us. We shall avoid the towns, and shall travel by night rather than by day. Help yourself — and heaven will help you!”

  “That is not all,” persisted Robert of Baudricourt, fixing upon Joan a penetrating look; “you are a woman; you will have to travel the only woman in the company of the men that are to escort you; you will have to lodge pell-mell with them wherever you may stop for rest.”

  Denis scratched his ears and looked at his niece with embarrassment. Joan blushed, dropped her eyes, and answered modestly:

  “Sir, I shall put on man’s clothes, if you can furnish me with any; I shall not take them off day or night; moreover, would the men of my escort be ready to cause annoyance to an honest girl who confides herself to them?”