"Serais je nonette' Crois que non—"
and looking with happy eyes at the cool morning light on the forest.
"Up, sleepy-head," she cried. "Listen to the merry trampling of the horses. I must start, if I would spare the poor things in the noon. Follow me with your prayers, for France rides with me. I love you, sweet sister. Be sure I will hasten to you when my work is done."
So the Maid and her company rode off through the woods to Compiegne, and a brooding and silent Catherine took the north road to Picardy.