"But I must go soon," she mused. "It is the will of God." Just at this juncture, when she knew not to whom to go, Durand Lassois, a cousin by marriage whom she called uncle because he was so much older than she, came to Domremy on a visit. Jeanne hailed his advent with eagerness. He lived with his young wife, who was Isabeau's niece, in Bury le Petit, a hamlet lying on the left bank of the Meuse in the green valley, nine miles from Domremy, but only three from Vaucouleurs. Here was the help that she needed, for Durand was fond of Jeanne, and would do her bidding as unquestioningly as a mastiff obeys the child whom he adores. So when Jeanne, taking him aside, asked him to take her home with him for a visit to her cousin, his wife, he assented readily. "Aveline will be glad for you to come, Jeanne," he said. "She is not well, and a visit from you will cheer her up." Jacques D'Arc made some objections when the subject was broached, but Isabeau was pleased and over-ruled them. "It is the very thing," she exclaimed. "The child has been in need of a change this long while. Nay, now, Jacques, say naught against it. She shall go. I wonder that we did not think of sending her there ourselves." "It must be for only a week, then," said Jacques. "A week is better than nothing," spoke Durand Lassois. "Have no fear for her, Jacques. She shall be well looked after." So a few days later the uncle and niece started for Bury le Petit by way of the hill path beyond Greux. As they walked through the forest, fragrant with the breath of spring, Jeanne said abruptly: "Uncle Durand, while I am at your house I wish you to take me to Vaucouleurs to see Sire Robert de Baudricourt." "You wish me to do what, child?" he asked in open-mouthed amazement. "To take me to Vaucouleurs to see Sire Robert de Baudricourt." "What for?" demanded Lassois, staring at her. "So that he may send me to the place where the Dauphin is, uncle. I must go into France to lead the Dauphin to Reims, that he may be crowned King there." Into the peasant's honest face there came a troubled expression. Slowly he passed his hand across his brow, then stopped in the path and looked at her. "It may be that we are walking too fast, little one," he said gently. "Your mother said that you had not been well, and 'tis known that the sun sometimes plays strange tricks with the wits." "I am not daft, uncle, nor hath the sun unsettled my wits." Jeanne showed neither surprise nor vexation at his words. "Have you not heard that a woman should lose France, and that a Maid should save France?" "I have heard it," admitted Durand slowly. "What then, Jeanne?" "I am that Maid, Uncle Durand. I shall save France." She spoke in a tone of quiet conviction.