Personal Recollections of Joan of Arc - Mark Twain (i have read the book a hundred times txt) 📗

and the Sieur Bertrand at its extreme rear. In two or three hours we should be in the enemy’s country, and then none would venture to desert. By and by we began to hear groans and sobs and execrations from different points along the line, and upon inquiry found that six of our men were peasants who had never ridden a horse before, and were finding it very difficult to stay in their saddles, and moreover were now beginning to suffer considerable bodily torture. They had been seized by the governor at the last moment and pressed into the service to make up the tale, and he had placed a veteran alongside of each with orders to help him stick to the saddle, and kill him if he tried to desert.

These poor devils had kept quiet as long as they could, but their physical miseries were become so sharp by this time that they were obliged to give them vent. But we were within the enemy’s country now, so there was no help for them, they must continue the march, though Joan said that if they chose to take the risk they might depart. They preferred to stay with us. We modified our pace now, and moved cautiously, and the new men were warned to keep their sorrows to themselves and not get the command into danger with their curses and lamentations.

Toward dawn we rode deep into a forest, and soon all but the sentries were sound asleep in spite of the cold ground and the frosty air.

I woke at noon out of such a solid and stupefying sleep that at first my wits were all astray, and I did not know where I was nor what had been happening. Then my senses cleared, and I remembered. As I lay there thinking over the strange events of the past month or two the thought came into my mind, greatly surprising me, that one of Joan’s prophecies had failed; for where were Noël and the Paladin, who were to join us at the eleventh hour? By this time, you see, I had gotten used to expecting everything Joan said to come true. So, being disturbed and troubled by these thoughts, I opened my eyes. Well, there stood the Paladin leaning against a tree and looking down on me! How often that happens; you think of a person, or speak of a person, and there he stands before you, and you not dreaming he is near. It looks as if his being near is really the thing that makes you think of him, and not just an accident, as people imagine. Well, be that as it may, there was the Paladin, anyway, looking down in my face and waiting for me to wake. I was ever so glad to see him, and jumped up and shook him by the hand, and led him a little way from the camp⁠—he limping like a cripple⁠—and told him to sit down, and said:

“Now, where have you dropped down from? And how did you happen to light in this place? And what do the soldier-clothes mean? Tell me all about it.”

He answered:

“I marched with you last night.”

“No!” (To myself I said, “The prophecy has not all failed⁠—half of it has come true.”)

“Yes, I did. I hurried up from Domremy to join, and was within a half a minute of being too late. In fact, I was too late, but I begged so hard that the governor was touched by my brave devotion to my country’s cause⁠—those are the words he used⁠—and so he yielded, and allowed me to come.”

I thought to myself, this is a lie, he is one of those six the governor recruited by force at the last moment; I know it, for Joan’s prophecy said he would join at the eleventh hour, but not by his own desire. Then I said aloud:

“I am glad you came; it is a noble cause, and one should not sit at home in times like these.”

“Sit at home! I could no more do it than the thunderstone could stay hid in the clouds when the storm calls it.”

“That is the right talk. It sounds like you.”

That pleased him.

“I’m glad you know me. Some don’t. But they will, presently. They will know me well enough before I get done with this war.”

“That is what I think. I believe that wherever danger confronts you you will make yourself conspicuous.”

He was charmed with this speech, and it swelled him up like a bladder. He said:

“If I know myself⁠—and I think I do⁠—my performances in this campaign will give you occasion more than once to remember those words.”

“I were a fool to doubt it. That I know.”

“I shall not be at my best, being but a common soldier; still, the country will hear of me. If I were where I belong; if I were in the place of La Hire, or Saintrailles, or the Bastard of Orleans⁠—well, I say nothing. I am not of the talking kind, like Noël Rainguesson and his sort, I thank God. But it will be something, I take it⁠—a novelty in this world, I should say⁠—to raise the fame of a private soldier above theirs, and extinguish the glory of their names with its shadow.”

“Why, look here, my friend,” I said, “do you know that you have hit out a most remarkable idea there? Do you realize the gigantic proportions of it? For look you; to be a general of vast renown, what is that? Nothing⁠—history is clogged and confused with them; one cannot keep their names in his memory, there are so many. But a common soldier of supreme renown⁠—why, he would stand alone! He would the be one moon in a firmament of mustard-seed stars; his name would outlast the human race! My friend, who gave you that idea?”

He was ready to burst with happiness, but he suppressed betrayal of it as well as he could. He simply waved the compliment aside with his