"Behold her, it is she, it is Hena! She mounts the pyre, her golden harp in hand, And singeth thus: "'Take my blood, O Hesus, And deliver my land from the stranger. Take my blood, O Hesus. Pity for Gaul! Victory to our arms!' "So it flowed, the blood of Hena. O, holy Virgin, in vain 'twill not have been, The shedding of your innocent and generous blood. To arms! To arms! Let us chase away the stranger! Victory to our arms!" The eyes of Jeannette filled anew with tears; and she said to Sybille, when the latter had finished her recital: "Oh, god-mother, if the good God, his saints and his archangels should ask me: 'Jeannette, which would you prefer to be, Hena or the martial maid of Lorraine who is to drive the wicked English from France and restore his crown to our gentle Dauphin?'--" "Which would you prefer?" "I would prefer to be Hena, who, in order to deliver her country, offered her blood to the good God without shedding the blood of any other people! To be obliged to kill so many people before vanquishing the enemy and before crowning our poor young Sire! Oh, god-mother," added Jeannette, shivering, "Merlin said that he saw blood flowing in torrents and steaming like a fog!" Jeannette broke off and rose precipitately upon hearing, a few steps off in the copse, a great noise mixed with plaintive bleatings. Just then one of her lambs leaped madly out of the bush pursued silently by a large black dog which was snapping viciously at its legs. To drop her distaff, pick up two stones that she armed herself with and throw herself upon the dog was the work of an instant for the child, thoroughly aroused by the danger to one of her pets, while Sybille cried in frightened tones: "Take care! Take care! The dog that does not bark is mad!" But the little shepherdess, with eyes afire and face animated, and paying no heed to her god-mother's warning, instead of throwing her stones at the dog from a safe distance, attacked him with them in her hands, striking him with one and the other alternately until he dropped his prey and fled, howling with pain and with great tufts of wool hanging from his jaws, while Jeannette pursued him, picking up more stones and throwing them with unerring aim until the dog had disappeared in the thicket.