“But Paris?” I asked.  “When march we on Paris?” My master’s face clouded.  “They should have set forth for Paris the very day after the sacring, which was the seventeenth of July.  But envoys had come in from the Duke of Burgundy, and there were parleys with them as touching peace.  Now, peace will never be won save at the point of the lance.  But a truce of a fortnight has been made with Burgundy, and then he is to give up Paris to the King.  Yet, ere a fortnight has passed, the new troops from England will have come over to fight us, and not against the heretics of Bohemia, though they have taken the cross and the vow.  And the King has gone to Saint Marcoul, forsooth, seeing that, unless he goes there to do his devotions, he may not touch the sick and heal the crewels. {29} Faith, they that have the crewels might even wait till the King has come to his own again; they have waited long enough to learn patience while he was Dauphin.  It should be Paris first, and Saint Marcoul and the crewels afterwards, but anything to waste time and keep out of the brunt of the battle.”  Here he struck his hand on the table so that the vessels leaped.  “I fear what may come of it,” he said.  “For every day that passes is great loss to us and much gain to our enemies of England, who will anon garrison Paris.”

“Faint-heart,” cried Elliot, plucking his beard.  “You will never believe in the Maid, who has never yet failed to help us, by the aid of the saints.”

“The saints help them that help themselves,” he answered.  “And Paris town has walls so strong, that once the fresh English are entered in, even the saints may find it a hard bargain.  But you, Elliot, run up and see if my chamber be ready, for I am well weary.”  She ran forth, and my master, turning to me, said in a low voice, “I have something for your own ear, but I feared to grieve her.  In a booth at Reims I saw her jackanapes doing his tricks, and when he came round questing with his bowl the little beast knew me and jumped up into my arms, and wailed as if he had been a Christian.  Then I was for keeping him, but I was set on by three or four stout knaves, and, I being alone, and the crowd taking their part, I thought it not well to draw sword, and so break the King’s peace that had just then begun to be King.  But my heart was sore for the poor creature, and, in very truth, I bring back no light heart, save to see you twain again, for I fear me that the worst of the darg {30} is still to do.  But here comes Elliot, so no word of the jackanapes.”

Therewith he went off to his chamber, and I to mine, with less pleasure than I had looked for.  Still, the thought came into my heart that, the longer the delay of the onslaught on Paris, the better chance I had to take part therein; and the harder the work, the greater the glory.

The boding words of my master proved over true.  The King was sacred on July the sixteenth, and Paris then stood empty of English soldiers, being garrisoned by Burgundians only.  But, so soon as he was anointed, the King began to parley with Burgundy, and thus they spun out the time, till, on July the twenty-fifth, a strong army of Englishmen had entered Paris.  Whether their hearts were high may not be known, but on their banner they had hung a distaff, and had painted the flag with the words—­