With this the brave woman gave the little Catherine into Jeanne's keeping, while she went into the cottage. Resolutely winking back her own tears Jeanne took the weeping little girl to a tree, and sat down under it, drawing the child into her lap. Pierre followed her, Jacquemin and Jean going with their father to help him. Soon Mengette and Hauviette joined the D'Arc children, and presently all the boys and girls of the village found their way there, comforting each other and the little ones in their charge in whispers. Childhood is elastic, and soon under the familiar companionship fright wore away, and the young folks began to relate their experiences in subdued but excited tones. "I saw a black Burgundian as big as a giant," declared Colin. "Had I had a crossbow and bolt I would have killed him." "Pouf! You were afraid just as the rest of us were," uttered Pierre scornfully. "Why, even the men did not try to fight, so many were the enemy. And if they could do naught neither could you." "The men could not fight without weapons, Pierre," spoke Jeanne quickly. "They had none in the fields." "Myself, I shall be a man-at-arms," went on Colin boastingly. "I shall wear armour, and ride a horse; and I shall go into France to help drive the Godons[4] out of it." Jeanne looked at him with sparkling eyes. "Yes," she cried eagerly. "'Tis what should be done. Oh! I would like to go too. Why do they not stay in their own country?" "You?" Colin began to laugh. "You are a girl, Jeanne D'Arc, and girls go not to war. They can not fight." "I could." A resolute light came into the little maid's eyes, and her lips set in a firm line. "I know I could." At this the others joined Colin in his laughter, and the boy cried gaily: "I should like to see you. Oh, wouldn't the Godons run when they saw you?" Jeanne opened her lips to reply, but just then she heard the voice of her mother calling to her. So, shaking her finger at Colin, she rose obediently and went toward the cottage. Near the door stood her father gazing intently at a long rod that he held in his hand. So absorbed was he that he did not heed her approach. The little girl touched him lightly on the arm. "What is it, father?" she asked gently. "Are you grieving over the cattle and the goods?" Her father looked up with a start. "I grieve, yes, my little one. But 'tis not so much about present ills as a future burden which we must bear. I know not how it is to be met. This rod, as you know, is the taille stick, and in July comes the tax which I must collect from Domremy and Greux. I like not to think about it, so heavy will it seem after the misfortune that has come upon these two villages."