The women and the infirm must from the town
Go forth and seek their fate.
"I will not now
Recall the moment, when on my poor Francis
With a long look I hung. At dead of night,
Made mute by fear, we mount the secret bark,
And glide adown the stream with silent oars:
Thus thrown upon the mercy of mankind,
I wandered reckless where, till wearied out,
And cold at heart, I laid me down to die;
So by this warrior found. Him I had known
And loved, for all loved Conrade who had known him;
Nor did I feel so pressing the hard hand
Of want in Orleans, ere he parted thence
On perilous envoy. For of his small fare —"
"Of this enough," said Conrade. "Holy Maid!
One duty yet awaits me to perform.
Orleans her envoy sent me, to demand
Aid from her idle sovereign. Willingly
Did I achieve the hazardous enterprise,
For rumor had already made me fear
The ill that hath fallen on me. It remains,
Ere I do banish me from human kind,
That I reënter Orleans, and announce
Thy march. 'Tis night, and hark! how dead a silence!
Fit hour to tread so perilous a path!"
So saying, Conrade from the tent went forth.
THE SIXTH BOOK.
The night was calm, and many a moving cloud
Shadow'd the moon. Along the forest glade
With swift foot Conrade past, and now had reach'd
The plain, where whilome by the pleasant Loire,
Cheer'd with the song, the rustics had beheld
The day go down upon their merriment:
No song of peace now echoed on its banks.
There tents were pitch'd, and there the sentinel,
Slow pacing on his sullen rounds, beheld
The frequent corse roll down the tainted stream.
Conrade with wider sweep pursued his way,
Shunning the camp, now hush'd in sleep and still.
And now no sound was heard save of the Loire,
Murmuring along. The noise of coming feet
Alarm'd him; nearer drew the rapid steps
As of pursuit; anon — the clash of arms!
That instant breaking through a rifted cloud
The moonlight show'd, where two with force combined
Prest on a single foe, who, warding still
Their swords, retreated in unequal fight.
As he would make the city. Hastening
With timely help to save him, Conrade sped.
One with an unexpected stroke he slew;
The other fled: "Now let us speed our best,
Frenchman!" he cried. On to the Loire they ran,
And making way with practised arms across,
Ere long in safety gain'd the opposite shore.
"Whence art thou?" cried the warrior; "and on what
Commission'd?"
"Is it not the voice of Conrade?"
Francis replied; "and dost thou bring to us
Tidings of succor? oh! that it had come
A few hours earlier! Isabel is gone!"
"Nay, she is safe," cried Conrade; "her I found
Bewilder'd in the forest, and consign'd her
To the protection of the holy Maid,
Whom Heaven hath sent to rescue us. Now say
Wherefore alone? A fugitive from Orleans,
Or sent on dangerous service from the town?"
"There is no food in Orleans," he replied,
"Scarce a meal more. The assembled chiefs resolve,
If thou shouldst bring no tidings of near aid.
To cut their way to safety, or by death
Prevent the pang of famine.[1] One they sought,
Who, venturing to the English lines, should spy
Where best to venture on this desperate chance,
And I, believing all I loved was lost,
Offer'd myself"
So saying, they approach'd
The gate. The sentinel, soon as he heard
Thitherward footsteps, with uplifted lance
Challenged the darkling travellers. At their voice
He drew the strong bolts back, and cautiously
Open'd the wicket. To the careful chiefs
Who sate in midnight council, they were led,
And Conrade thus address'd them:
"Sirs, the Lord,
In this our utmost need, hath sent us aid.
A holy Maid hath been raised up by Heaven;
Her mission is by miracles confirm'd,
And hither, with twelve hundred chosen men,
Led by Dunois, she comes. I am myself
A witness to the truth of what I tell;
And by to-morrow's noon, before these walls
Her banner will be seen."
Thereat the chiefs
Were fill'd with wonder and with joy, by doubt
Little repress'd. "Open the granaries!"
Xaintrailles exclaim'd; "give we to all the host
With hand unsparing now a plenteous meal;
To-morrow we are safe! for Heaven all-just
Hath seen our sufferings and decreed their end.
Let the glad tidings echo through the town!
God is with us!"
"Be not too confident,"
Graville replied, "in this miraculous aid.
Some frantic woman this, who gives belief
To idle dreams, and with her madness then
Infects the simple! That Dunois is there,
Leading in arms twelve hundred chosen men,
Affords a better hope; yet lavish not
Our stores, lest in the enterprise he fail,
And Orleans then be fain to bear the yoke
Of England!"
"Chief! I tell thee," Conrade cried,
"I did myself behold the sepulchre,
Fulfilling what she spake, give up those arms
Which surely for no common end the grave
- ↑ ???
