than ever. "After the penance comes the absolution. You will find peace
only at the lance's point. Son of France, go, go, go! I will help you.
Go hardily to Verdun."

Pierre sprang forward after the receding figure, tried to clasp the
knee, the foot of the Maid. As he fell to the ground something sharp
pierced his hand. It must be her spur, thought he.

Then he was aware that his eyes were shut. He opened them and looked at
his hand carefully. There was only a scratch on it, and a tiny drop of
blood. He had torn it on the thorns of the wild-gooseberry bushes.

His head lay close to the clear pool of the spring. He buried his face
in it, and drank deep. Then he sprang up, shaking the drops from his
mustache, found his cap and pistol, and hurried up the glen toward the
old Roman road.

"No more of that damned foolishness about Switzerland," he said, aloud.
"I belong to France. I am going with the other boys to save her. I was
born for that." He took off his cap and stood still for a moment. He
spoke as if he were taking an oath. "By Jeanne d'Arc!"



The Victorious Penance


It never occurred to Pierre Duval, as he trudged those long kilometers
toward the front, that he was doing a penance.