"And feel also, ma mie." Lassois made at once for the great fire. "Jacques, man, you have cause to be thankful that you need not fare from the fireside on such a day as this. Pierre, will you see to the oxen? The poor brutes are well nigh frozen, and so am I." "Ye look it, Durand," spoke Jacques. "There! come nearer to the fire. Isabeau, a hot drink will warm his vitals. Welcome, Lassois, welcome! 'Tis a cold day." "It is," agreed Durand, rubbing his hands before the blaze. "And how is Aveline?" asked Isabeau, as she placed a hot drink before him. "She is not well, Isabeau, and the baby is peevish. It is that that brings me here to-day. Her father hath been taken with a distemper, and her mother is all taken up in looking after him. So Aveline wishes that Jeanne might come to stay for a short time. Will you let her go, Jacques?" Jeanne listened anxiously for her father's answer. She did not believe that he would give consent. Indeed Jacques was silent a long time before he made reply, but at length he said slowly: "I see no harm in her going, Lassois. It hath been dreary here this winter, and the work heavy. She may go and stay with you three weeks, since Aveline is ailing. That is, if her mother is willing." "Why, yes," spoke Isabeau quickly. "With a young baby Aveline needs some one with her to look after things. And it will give Jeanne a chance to hear the news. I doubt not but that Aveline will have much to tell her that will be of interest." Jeanne was amazed at the readiness with which the consent was given. She had not thought they would let her go, and it caused her wonder. But certainly they could not suppose that she would seek Robert de Baudricourt a second time, or perhaps Jacques relied upon Sire Robert's good sense to send her home if she should seek him. So it was arranged that the maiden should return with Lassois to Bury le Petit the next day. There was little sleep for the young girl that night. She knew that it was the last time that she would ever be in her own home, for she was resolved to go to Vaucouleurs as soon as Aveline was better. In this she would deliberately disobey her parents, but there was no other way. "I would rather be torn apart by wild horses than go against their wishes," she said to herself with tears. "But God commands it, and I must go." Her destiny called, and she followed the summons. All earthly ties must be subservient to her great purpose. Suffering France must be relieved, and it was her mission to give the aid. Her time had come. Therefore her good-byes to her parents, brothers, and little sister were very tender. She dared not speak of her mission, and if her loved ones noticed the tenderness of farewells that so short an absence did not seem to warrant they knew not the reason for them. So Jeanne passed from her father's house, and climbed into the cart. Mengette, whose home was near by, was at the window as Lassois' cart passed. Jeanne waved to her, crying: