"She knows not A from B, Jacques. Everything she knows is what she has learned from me. I have taught her the Credo, the Paternoster, the Ave Marie, and have told her stories of the saints: things that every well-taught child should know. She is skilled, too, in housework. I have seen to that. And as for sewing and spinning, there is not her equal in this whole valley. There is naught amiss, Jacques. If there is, 'tis more likely the harm that she has received from tales of bloodshed which every passerby brings of the war. Often do I wish that we did not live on the highroad." The good dame shook her head as she glanced through the open door of the cottage to the great road where even at that moment creaking wains were passing laden with the cloths of Ypres and Ghent. Often instead of wagons there were men-at-arms, and Isabeau feared the glitter of lances. In war it is not assault and plundering that takes the heart and saps the courage, but the ever present dread that they will happen. Fugitives from the wars stopped for bite and sup, and recounted their stories which were often of great suffering. Such tales have effect, and Isabeau herself being influenced by them did not doubt but that her children were moved in like manner. "The children hear too much of battles, and the state of France," she added. "Nay; such things make no lasting impression upon children, Isabeau. It is well that they should know something of what goes on beyond the valley. Perchance the child is threatened with the Falling Sickness. She wears no charm against it." It was an age of superstition. That Jacques D'Arc should believe that a charm could ward off epilepsy was only what all men believed at the time. He was an austere man, but fond of his family, and his daughter's quietness and growing devoutness had aroused in him a feeling of uneasiness. "There is naught amiss with the child, Jacques," spoke his wife, consolingly. "She would come to me with it if there were. She is becoming more thoughtful as she grows older; that is all." "I like it not," grumbled Jacques, shaking his head as though but half convinced. "I much fear that something is wrong. It is not fitting that so young a girl should be so pious. Is not that a Friar turning in from the highway, Isabeau?" CHAPTER VIII JEANNE RECEIVES A GIFT AND AN ANNOUNCEMENT "_Great hearts alone understand how much glory there is in being good._" _A Saying of Old France._ Isabeau glanced toward the man who was nearing the cottage. He was clad in the frock of the Order of Saint Francis, and was carrying a heavy staff. "'Tis one of the Grey Friars," she exclaimed; "and supper is not yet started. I must hurry to get it upon the table, for he may be hungry." "If it is a Grey Friar let him get on to Neufchâteau," grumbled Jacques. "They have a house there, and 'tis but five miles further on."