But she stuck to her point; so the soldier yielded, and said all right, if such were the orders he must obey, and would do the best that was in him; then he refreshed himself with a lurid explosion of oaths, and said that if any man in the camp refused to renounce sin and lead a pious life, he would knock his head off.  That started Joan off again; she was really having a good time, you see.  But she would not consent to that form of conversions.  She said they must be voluntary.

La Hire said that that was all right, he wasn’t going to kill the voluntary ones, but only the others.

No matter, none of them must be killed—­Joan couldn’t have it.  She said that to give a man a chance to volunteer, on pain of death if he didn’t, left him more or less trammeled, and she wanted him to be entirely free.

So the soldier sighed and said he would advertise the mass, but said he doubted if there was a man in camp that was any more likely to go to it than he was himself.  Then there was another surprise for him, for Joan said: 

“But, dear man, you are going!”

“I?  Impossible!  Oh, this is lunacy!”

“Oh, no, it isn’t.  You are going to the service—­twice a day.”

“Oh, am I dreaming?  Am I drunk—­or is my hearing playing me false?  Why, I would rather go to—­”

“Never mind where.  In the morning you are going to begin, and after that it will come easy.  Now don’t look downhearted like that.  Soon you won’t mind it.”

La Hire tried to cheer up, but he was not able to do it.  He sighed like a zephyr, and presently said: 

“Well, I’ll do it for you, but before I would do it for another, I swear I—­”

“But don’t swear.  Break it off.”

“Break it off?  It is impossible!  I beg you to—­to—­ Why—­oh, my General, it is my native speech!”

He begged so hard for grace for his impediment, that Joan left him one fragment of it; she said he might swear by his bfton, the symbol of his generalship.

He promised that he would swear only by his bfton when in her presence, and would try to modify himself elsewhere, but doubted he could manage it, now that it was so old and stubborn a habit, and such a solace and support to his declining years.

That tough old lion went away from there a good deal tamed and civilized—­not to say softened and sweetened, for perhaps those expressions would hardly fit him.  Noel and I believed that when he was away from Joan’s influence his old aversions would come up so strong in him that he could not master them, and so wouldn’t go to mass.  But we got up early in the morning to see.

Satan was converted, you see.  Well, the rest followed.  Joan rode up and down that camp, and wherever that fair young form appeared in its shining armor, with that sweet face to grace the vision and perfect it, the rude host seemed to think they saw the god of war in person, descended out of the clouds; and first they wondered, then they worshiped.  After that, she could do with them what she would.