And too, her spirit responded throbbingly to the beauty and the mystery and the wonder of that life which is unseen, as well as to all tales of heroic deeds, and as she brooded on the sorrows of the Dauphin and of her beloved France, her nature became more and more quick to receive impressions which had no place in her routine of life, even though at that time with great practical bravery she was helping the villagers resist the invasions of bands of marauders. Then came a day when her life was for ever set apart from her companions. With them she had been running races in the meadow on this side of the Ancient Wood. Fleet-footed and victorious, she flung herself down to rest a moment when a boy's voice whispered in her ear, "Go home. Your mother wants you." True to her habit of obedience, Jeanne rose at once, and leaving the merry company walked back through the valley to her home. But it was no command from her mother which had come to her, and no boy's voice that had spoken. In these simple words she tells the story: She says, "I was thirteen at that time. It was mid-day in the Summer, when I heard the Voice first. It was a Voice from God for my help and guidance and that first time I heard it I was much afraid. I heard it to the right toward the Church. It seemed to come from lips I should reverence." Then with solemn awe she told of the great Vision which suddenly shone before her while an unearthly light flamed all around her, and in its dazzling radiance she saw St. Michael, Captain of the Hosts of Heaven and many lesser angels. So overwhelming was the Vision and the radiance, that she stood transfixed, lifting adoring eyes. Having been taught that the true office of St. Michael was to bring holy counsel and revelations to men, she listened submissively to his words. She was to be good and obedient, to go often to Church, and to be guided in all her future acts by the advice of St. Margaret and St. Catherine who had been chosen to be her counsellors. Then before the Vision faded, came a message so tremendous in its command, of such vast responsibility that it is small wonder if the little peasant maid lifted imploring hands, crying out for deliverance from this duty, until at last, white and spent, she sank on her knees with clasped hands, praying that this might not come to be true--that it might not be she who had been chosen by God to go to the help of the Dauphin--to lead the armies of France to victory. And yet even as she prayed she knew that it _was_ true,--that God had chosen her for a great work, that it was she, the peasant of Domrémy, who alone could restore her country and her king to their former greatness--and that she would carry out the divine command.