Part 22 (1/2)
”It is the dress he cannot bear,” whispered Laxart distressfully to me, ”it is as gall and wormwood to him to see his daughter go about in the garb of a man.”
The Maid's face was raised in tender entreaty; she had hold of her father's hands by now. She was covering them with kisses.
”O my father, have you no word for me? Have you not yet forgiven your little Jeanne? I have but obeyed our Blessed Lord and His holy Saints. And see how they have helped and blessed and guided me! O my father, can you doubt that I was sent of them for this work? How then could I refuse to do it?”
Then the stern face seemed to melt with a repressed tenderness, and the father bent and touched the girl's brow with his lips. She uttered a little cry of joy, and would have flung herself into his arms; but he held her a little off, his hands upon her shoulders, and he looked into her face searchingly.
”That may have been well done, my daughter; I will not say, I will not judge. But your task is now accomplished--your own lips have said it; and yet you still are to march with the King's army, I am told. You love better the clash of arms, the glory of victory, the companions.h.i.+p of soldiers and courtiers to the simple duties which await you at home, and the protection of your mother's love. That is not well. That is what no modest maiden should choose. I had hoped and believed that I should take my daughter home with me. But she has chosen otherwise. Do I not well to be angry?”
The Maid's face was buried in her hands. She would have buried it in her father's breast, but he would not have it so.
I could have wept tears myself at the sight of her sorrow. I saw how utterly impossible it would be to make this st.u.r.dy peasant understand the difficulty of the Maid's position, and the claims upon her great abilities, her mysterious influence upon the soldiers. The worthy prud'homme would look upon this as rather a dishonour and disgrace than a gift from Heaven.
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 doc.u.ment, 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, n.o.ble knight, let me call hither those of our kinsfolk and acquaintance from Domremy as have accompanied us. .h.i.ther, that they may hear and understand this marvellous grace which hath been done us!”
I was glad enough that all should come and hear that which I read to them from the great doc.u.ment, explaining every phrase that was hard of comprehension. It was good to see how all faces glowed and kindled, and how the people crowded about the Maid with words of grat.i.tude and blessing.
Only the father stood a little apart, sorrowful and stern. And yet I am sure that his heart, though grieved, was not altogether hardened against his child; for when at the last, with tears in her eyes (all other farewells being said), she knelt at his feet begging his blessing and forgiveness, he laid his hand upon her head for a moment, and let her embrace his knees with her arms.
”Go your way, my girl, if needs must be. Your mother will ever pray for you, and I trust the Lord whom you serve will not leave you, though His ways are too hard of understanding for me.”
That was all she could win from him; but her heart was comforted, I think; for as she reached her lodging and turned at the door of her room to thank me in the gracious way she never forgot, for such poor services as I had rendered, she said in a soft and happy voice:
”I think that in his heart my father hath forgiven me!”
CHAPTER XVIII. HOW I LAST SAW THE MAID.
I had thought, when I started, to tell the whole tale of the Angelic Maid and all the things which she accomplished, and all that we who companied with her did and saw, both of success and of failure. But now my brain and my pen alike refuse the task. I must needs shorten it. I think my heart would well nigh break a second time, if I were to seek to tell all that terrible tale which the world knows so well by now.