We followed the veteran to headquarters, listening, observing, admiring—­yes, devouring, you may say, the pet hero of the boys of France from our cradles up to that happy day, and their idol and ours.  I called to mind how Joan had once rebuked the Paladin, there in the pastures of Domremy, for uttering lightly those mighty names, La Hire and the Bastard of Orleans, and how she said that if she could but be permitted to stand afar off and let her eyes rest once upon those great men, she would hold it a privilege.  They were to her and the other girls just what they were to the boys.  Well, here was one of them at last—­and what was his errand?  It was hard to realize it, and yet it was true; he was coming to uncover his head before her and take her orders.

While he was quieting a considerable group of his brigands in his soothing way, near headquarters, we stepped on ahead and got a glimpse of Joan’s military family, the great chiefs of the army, for they had all arrived now.  There they were, six officers of wide renown, handsome men in beautiful armor, but the Lord High Admiral of France was the handsomest of them all and had the most gallant bearing.

When La Hire entered, one could see the surprise in his face at Joan’s beauty and extreme youth, and one could see, too, by Joan’s glad smile, that it made her happy to get sight of this hero of her childhood at last.  La Hire bowed low, with his helmet in his gauntleted hand, and made a bluff but handsome little speech with hardly an oath in it, and one could see that those two took to each other on the spot.

The visit of ceremony was soon over, and the others went away; but La Hire stayed, and he and Joan sat there, and he sipped her wine, and they talked and laughed together like old friends.  And presently she gave him some instructions, in his quality as master of the camp, which made his breath stand still.  For, to begin with, she said that all those loose women must pack out of the place at once, she wouldn’t allow one of them to remain.  Next, the rough carousing must stop, drinking must be brought within proper and strictly defined limits, and discipline must take the place of disorder.  And finally she climaxed the list of surprises with this—­which nearly lifted him out of his armor: 

“Every man who joins my standard must confess before the priest and absolve himself from sin; and all accepted recruits must be present at divine service twice a day.”

La Hire could not say a word for a good part of a minute, then he said, in deep dejection: 

“Oh, sweet child, they were littered in hell, these poor darlings of mine!  Attend mass?  Why, dear heart, they’ll see us both damned first!”

And he went on, pouring out a most pathetic stream of arguments and blasphemy, which broke Joan all up, and made her laugh as she had not laughed since she played in the Domremy pastures.  It was good to hear.