The words I longed to speak died away upon my tongue.  I felt that to speak them would be a waste of breath.  Moreover, I was here as a spectator, not as a partaker in this scene.  I held the document, signed and sealed by the King, which I was prepared to read to the visitors from Domremy.  That was to be my share in this interview—­not to interpose betwixt father and child.

For a few moments there was deep silence in the room; then the Maid took her hands from her face, and she was calm and tranquil once again.  She possessed herself of one of her father’s reluctant hands.

“My father, I know that this thing is hard for you to understand.  It may be that my brothers could explain it better than I, had you patience to hear them.  But this I say, that I long with an unspeakable desire to return home with you, for I know that the path I must tread will darken about me, and that the end will be sad and bitter.  And yet I may not choose for myself.  My King commands.  My country calls.  I must needs listen to those voices.  Oh, forgive me that I may not follow yours, nor the yearnings of mine own heart!”

The old man dropped her hand and turned away.  He spoke no word; I think perchance his heart was touched by the tone of the Maid’s voice, by the appealing look in her beautiful eyes.  But he would not betray any sign of weakness.  He turned away and leant his brow upon the hand with which he had grasped the high-carved ledge of the panelled shelf beside him.  The Maid glanced at him, her lips quivering; and she spoke again in a brighter tone.

“And yet, my father, though you may not take me back with you, you shall not go away empty-handed.  I have that to send home with you which shall, I trust, rejoice the hearts of all Domremy; and if you find it hard to forgive that which your child has been called upon to do, yet methinks there will be others to bless her name and pray for her, when they learn that which she has been able to accomplish.”

Then she made a little sign to me, and I stepped forward with the parchment, signed and sealed, and held it towards the Maid’s father.  He turned to look at me, and his eyes widened in wonder and some uneasiness; for the sight of so great a deed filled him and his kinsman with a vague alarm.

“What is it?” he asked, turning full round, and I made answer: 

“A deed signed by the King, exempting Domremy from all taxation, henceforward and for ever, by right of the great and notable services rendered to the realm by one born and brought up there—­Jeanne d’Arc, now better known as the maid of Orleans.”

The two men exchanged wondering glances, and over Laxart’s face there dawned a smile of intense joy and wonder.

“Nay, but this is a wonderful thing—­a miracle—­the like of which was never heard or known before!  I pray you, noble knight, let me call hither those of our kinsfolk and acquaintance from Domremy as have accompanied us hither, that they may hear and understand this marvellous grace which hath been done us!”