"I will make preparations at once," he said, moved by her zeal and by her strong sense of the necessity of immediate operations. Then as he started to leave her, he turned. "Would you travel in that garb, pucelle?"[7] he asked hesitatingly. Jeanne smiled, divining the difficulties he foresaw were she to retain her woman's garb in travelling. She had already given the matter thought, and perceived that if she were to live among soldiers she must change the dress she wore. So she answered promptly: "I will willingly dress as a man. In truth, it would be more seemly." De Metz nodded approval, and went his way. After this, because joys like sorrows come not singly, one after another began to believe in her. In a few days another man-at-arms came to her. He was an older man than de Metz and a graver. At his salutation Jeanne looked at him intently. "Have I not seen you somewhere, messire?" she asked. "I think not," he answered lightly. "Methinks I should not have forgotten it had we ever met. Yet stay!" bending a keen glance upon her. "Are not you the little maid who dressed my wounded arm at your father's house in Domremy?" "It may be, messire." "It is," he affirmed. "The wound healed quickly, for the treatment was good. So you are that little maid? And now you have come here with a mission? Tell me of it, pucelle. Can you in very truth do as you say: raise the siege of Orléans, and bring the King to his anointing?" "Not I, messire; but my Lord, the King of Heaven, will do it through me. I am but his humble instrument." "Tell me of it," he said again. "I have talked with Jean de Metz, but I would hear of it from you." There was no need for reserve concerning her mission, so Jeanne talked of it freely to him. Indeed she did so to whomsoever wished to hear about it. And when she had made an end of the telling Bertrand de Poulengy placed his hands in hers as de Metz had done, and pledged her fealty, knightly fashion. But though the men-at-arms were willing to set forth at once there was still delay; for, being in service with Sire Robert, they could not leave without his consent. Jeanne became impatient, knowing that Orléans could not hold out forever. She was cast down, not through want of faith in her divine mission, but because of the obstacles which unbelieving men like Baudricourt were putting in her way. "In God's name, gentle Robert," she cried one day, meeting him at the foot of the hill where his castle stood, "you are too slow about sending me. This day hath a great disaster happened to the Dauphin. Send me quickly lest a worse befall him." "A disaster hath befallen the Dauphin?" exclaimed Sire Robert. "How could you know that a disaster hath befallen him to-day?" "My Voices have told me," she made answer. "A battle hath been lost near Orléans. Sire Robert, I must be sent to him."