"I would," she replied quickly. "Wouldn't you, Pierrelot?" Something in her tone made the boy look at her keenly. "How your eyes shine," he said. "And somehow you seem different. What is it, Jeanne? The song?" "Partly," she told him. "Well, it does make a fellow's heart leap." The youth spoke thoughtfully. "It always makes me feel like dropping everything to go out to fight the English and Burgundians." "We will go together, Pierrelot," spoke his sister softly. "We--" "What's that about going to fighting?" demanded their father, who had drawn near without being perceived. "Let me hear no more of that. Pierre, that field must be finished by sundown. Jeanne, your mother has need of you in the house. There is no time for dawdling, or singing. Go to her." "Yes, father." Dutifully the maiden went at once to the cottage, while Pierre resumed his hoeing. The conversation passed from the lad's mind, but it was otherwise with Jacques D'Arc. He had heard his daughter's words, "We will go together, Pierrelot," and they troubled him. The following morning he appeared at the breakfast table scowling and taciturn, making but small pretence at eating. Presently he pushed back from the table. His wife glanced at him with solicitude. "What ails you, Jacques?" she queried. "Naught have you eaten, which is not wise. You should not begin the day's work upon an empty stomach." "Shall I get you some fresh water, father?" asked Jeanne. Jacques turned upon her quickly, and with such frowning brow that, involuntarily, she shrank from him. "Hark you," he said. "I dreamed of you last night." "Of me, father?" she faltered. "Yes. I dreamed that I saw you riding in the midst of men-at-arms." At this both Jean and Pierre laughed. "Just think of Jeanne being with soldiers," exclaimed Jean. "Why, she would run at sight of a Godon." But there was no answering smile on the face of their father. According to his belief there was but one interpretation to be put upon such a dream. Many women rode with men-at-arms, but they were not good women. So now, bringing his fist down upon the table with a resounding thwack, he roared: "Rather than have such a thing happen, I would have you boys drown her in the river. And if you would not do it, I would do it myself." Jeanne turned pale. Instantly it was borne in upon her that her father must not know of her mission. She knew that if now she were to tell of the wonderful task that had been assigned to her she would not be believed, but that he would think ill of her. At this juncture her mother spoke, chidingly: "How you talk, Jacques. What a pother to make over a dream. Come now! eat your breakfast, and think no more of it." But Jacques only reiterated his words fiercely: "I would drown her rather than have a daughter of mine among soldiers."