Joan had her share in the romantic adventures of those restless times. She saw poor fugitives arrive in the hamlet, and the kind-hearted girl assisted towards their reception, gave up her bed to them, and lay down in the hayloft. Her kindred, too, were once obliged to save themselves by flight. Then, when the inundation of brigands had passed off, the family returned and found the village sacked, the house devastated, and the church burned down. Thus she knew what war meant. She understood that anti-Christian state of things, and abhorred that reign of the devil, in which every man died in mortal sin. If, as everyone said, the ruin of the kingdom was the work of a woman, an unnatural mother, it might be that its salvation should proceed from a girl. This very fact was foretold in one of Merlin’s prophecies, a prophecy which, variously enriched and modified in the several provinces, had become thoroughly Lorrainian in the country of Joan of Arc. It was a girl of the marches of Lorraine that was to save the realm. The prophecy had probably received this embellishment, in consequence of the recent marriage of René of Anjou with the heiress of the duchy of Lorraine, which was in reality a very fortunate event for France. One summer’s day, a fast day, Joan, being in the garden at noon with her father, close by the church, saw a dazzling light in that direction, and heard a voice saying, “Be a good child, Joan, and go often to church.” The poor girl was greatly frightened. Another time she again heard the voice and saw the light; but now she discerned it in noble figures, one of which had wings and seemed a sage counsellor. He said to her, “Joan, go to the aid of the king of France, and thou wilt restore him to his kingdom.” She answered, trembling all over, “My Lord, I am but a poor girl; I cannot ride the war-horse, or lead men-at-arms.” The voice replied: “Thou shalt go to M. de Baudricourt, captain of Vaucouleurs, and he will take thee before the king. St. Catherine and St. Margaret will be with thee to help thee.” She remained stupefied and in tears, as if she had already beheld her whole future destiny. The sage counsellor was none other than St. Michael, the stern archangel of judgment and battle. He returned again, cheered her courage, “and related to her the pity there was in the realm of France.” Then came the white figures of female saints, surrounded with innumerable lights, their heads adorned with rich crowns, their voices sweet and melting even to tears. But Joan wept above all when the saints and angels left her. “I should have been very glad,” she said, “if the angels had taken me away with them.” Joan has told us nothing of the first inward conflict she sustained; but it is evident it took place, and endured a long while, since five years elapsed between her first vision and her departure from the home of her parents.