"Yes." Mengette sighed also, and silence fell once more between them. Long before Domremy had heard that Jeanne was held in durance, and at length that she was on trial before the learned men of the University. All feared for the result, for what chance would a peasant maid stand with such wise men? Down the hillside path, through Greux, and on through the Bois Chesnu went the two friends, until presently they emerged into the clearing where stood the Fairy Tree in solitary grandeur. With one accord they paused under its spreading branches. "The commissioners from Rouen were so curious about the tree," commented Mengette, glancing up at it lovingly. "So many questions did they ask concerning it, and the Gooseberry Spring. And, Hauviette, did Isabeau tell you that they wanted to know whether Jeanne ever carried a mandrake?" "Yes, she told me," answered Hauviette. "As though Jeanne would do such a thing! Look, Mengette!" she broke off suddenly. "Something has happened, for the people are running all about the streets of the village." "And the most of them are going toward the D'Arc house," cried Mengette excitedly. "There must be news of Jeanne. Let us hurry, Hauviette." Quickly the intervening space between the forest and the village was passed, and Jeanne's two friends soon entered the dooryard of the cottage. Colin de Greux left the crowd of villagers who clustered about the yard talking in low tones, and came to meet them. "There is news," he told them in trembling accents. "It is all over. Poor Jeanne!" He paused abruptly, and covered his face with his hands. "What do you mean, Colin?" cried Mengette, while Hauviette grew white, and clasping her hands over her heart stood waiting the answer with bated breath. "Is she--is she dead?" Colin nodded. "Burned," he said briefly. "As a heretic and a sorceress. The Curé has just received word." "Oh," gasped Mengette. "It can't be true; it can't be!" But Hauviette could not speak. More than the others had she loved Jeanne. "Yes; it's true," affirmed Colin with emotion. "And to think that I teased her so. And made her go to Toul, and, and--" His voice broke. At this Hauviette recovered herself a little, and laid her hand softly on his arm. "She forgave that, Colin, I know," she said comfortingly. "Jeanne would harbour naught against you." "I know," he said. "For when she left Domremy for Vaucouleurs she stopped as she passed through Greux, and said: 'I go to Vaucouleurs, Colin. God give you good fortune.' And He has," continued the young man, "for I have prospered beyond any other in the village. 'Tis as though her mere wish had brought it to pass." "Perhaps it did," said the maiden gently, finding comfort for her own grief in consoling him. "But see! Mengette has gone to Jacques and Isabeau. Let us go also, that we may comfort them. Jeanne would like us to do that."