"That is well, Pierrelot." His sister smiled at him reassuringly. "I shall eat when the bread comes from the market town. We must go to the castle now. Mother said that we were to go there after we had eaten. Every one is to sleep there to-night." "But there are no beds," broke in Colin in an aggrieved tone. "No, Colin; there are no beds, but even so floors are better than the fields. There would be no safety outside the walls on account of the wolves." "Wolves?" Colin whitened perceptibly, and the children huddled closer together. "I did not think of wolves. Is there in truth danger?" "The men fear so, because some of the cattle and sheep were trampled to death by the others, and their carcasses may draw them. We are to use the castle until the houses are thatched." The arrangements were as Jeanne had said. The nights were to be spent in the safety of the castle's confines, while the days were to be devoted to the rebuilding of the village, and the resowing of the fields. Thus did the peasants with brave resignation once more take up their lives. For, no matter how adverse Fate may be, life must be lived; misfortune must be met and overcome. And the times that followed were such as to try the endurance of the unfortunate inhabitants of Domremy to the utmost. It was the season of the year when there was a scarcity of provisions everywhere. From early Spring until the reaping of the new crops the stock of food in a rural community is at its lowest; so, though many villages of the valley shared their stores with their unfortunate neighbors their own needs had to be taken into consideration, therefore it came about that Famine reared his ugly head in the linked villages of Greux and Domremy. Many of the cruelly despoiled peasants died of hunger. One day Jacques D'Arc gathered his family about him. They were in their own home by this time, but its furnishings were of the rudest. Before Jacques on the table lay a single loaf of bread, and by it stood a pail of water. He looked at them sadly. "'Tis our last loaf," he said, "and, of provision we have naught else. So this is our last meal, for I know not where another can be forthcoming. We will eat to-day; to-morrow we must do as we can. Take in thankfulness, therefore, what lies before us." With this he cut the loaf into seven parts, giving a portion to his wife first, then one to each of his children except Jeanne. Hers he kept beside his own. When all had been served he turned to her. "Come here, my little one," he said. Timidly, for there was something in his tone that she did not understand, the little maid went to his side. Jacques encircled her with his arm. "Have you broken your fast to-day, my child?" Jeanne blushed, and hung her head as though guilty of wrong doing, but did not reply. "You have not," he asserted. "Yesterday Pierre saw you give all of your portion to your sister. The day before you kept but a small part for yourself, giving Catherine the rest. Is it not so?"