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a madman, dear, and so his likings and his gratitude and friendliness go for nothing when his rage is up. You did a perilous thing."
"Of course you did," said the Sunflower. "Didn't he threaten to kill you with the axe?"
"Yes."
"Didn't he threaten you more than once?"
"Yes."
"Didn't you feel afraid?"
"No—at least not much—very little."
"Why didn't you?"
She thought a moment, then said, quite simply—
"I don't know."
It made everybody laugh. Then the Sunflower said it was like a lamb trying to think out how it had come to eat a wolf, but had to give it up.
Cécile Letellier asked, "Why didn't you run when we did?"
"Because it was necessary to get him to his cage; else he would kill some one. Then he would come to the like harm himself."
It is noticeable that this remark, which implies that Joan was entirely forgetful of herself and her own danger, and had thought and wrought for the preservation of other people alone, was not challenged, or criticized, or commented upon by anybody there, but was taken by all as matter of course and true. It shows how clearly her character was defined, and how well it was known and established.
There was silence for a time, and perhaps we were all thinking of the same thing—namely, what a poor figure we had cut in that adventure as contrasted with Joan's performance. I tried to think up some good way of explaining why I had run away and left a little girl at the mercy of a maniac armed with an axe, but all of the explanations that offered themselves to me seemed so cheap and shabby that I gave the matter up and remained still. But others were less wise. Noël Rainguesson fidgeted awhile, then broke out with a remark which showed what his mind had been running on:
