The Valley of Vision

hills from the upper waters of the Marne to the

faded and dusty; not a trace of the horizon blue was left, only a gray shadow. He had no knapsack on his back, no gun on his shoulder. Wearily and doggedly he plodded his w

e of flight, a

. Farther down he could see a cluster of white houses with the tower of a church in the centre. Other villages were dimly visible up and down the valley on either slope. The cattle were lowing from the barnyards. The cocks crowed for the dawn. Already the moon had sun

seberries and golden broom and a few tall spires of purple foxglove. He drew off his dusty boots and socks and bathed his feet in a small pool, drying them with fern leaves. T

ered in loops and curves. The sun was just topping the eastern

carves and ribbons as the breeze caught it among the pollard willows and poplars on the border of the stream. Far away the water glittered where the river made a sudden bend or a long smooth reach. It was like the flashing of distant shields. Overhead a few whi

" said the soldier. "My faith, but F

ed, the willows glistened, the veils of mist vanished. From very far away there cam

dier, shivering. "It is the guns a

s beside the spring. Stretching himself with a gesture of

clad in a dusty cassock, his long black beard streaked with gray. He came slowly tr

e said. "You have chosen

take off his cap. It was already lying on the ground. "Good morning, Father," he answered, "I did not choose

have interrupted your repose. But why do you say you came here 'by chance'? If you are a go

aid the soldier coldly; "but now it doe

he had been surprised was passing. He had fallen back i

soldier and smiled a little. He set down his bag and leaned on his stick. "Well," he said, "I can tel

hen," he cried, roughly, "were you looking for me? What d

othing of you whatever, not even your name nor why you are here. When I said that I came with a purpose I meant only that

it," said the sol

one old enough to be your father. Look, I have here some excellent tobacco and cigarette-papers. L

down on a mossy bank beside the spring, and while the blue smoke of

at battle for freedom and the life of France, calls me. It is a divine vocation. France has need of all her sons to-day, even the old ones. I cannot keep the love of God in my heart unless I follow the love of country in my life. My younger brother, who used to

ond of fern. "A brave resolve, Father," he said, with an ironic note. "Bu

; "it is the love of Jeanne d'Arc, the Maid w

r. "I have learned in the sch

eady he has declared her among the Blessed Ones. To me she is the most blessed of all. She never thought of herself or of

ow that," sai

full of pictures of her. It stands where the old beech-tree, 'Fair May,' used to grow. There she heard the voices and saw the saints who sent her on her mission. And this is the Gooseberry Spring, the Well of the Good Fairies. Here she came with the other children, at the festival of the well-dressing, to spread their garlands around it, an

He took out a small metal cup. He filled it carefully

ured, "blessed and holy is this water." Then he held the cup towar

rom the bottom of the cup. The soldi

ke it. I am not worthy. Can a man take

wly; "I see, my son. You have a burden on your heart. Well, I will

icles of rapture in the thicket. A great light came into the

I vow my life to thy cause. Aid me, aid this my son, to fight

the look. Father Courcy wiped the empty cup carefully and put it back in his ba

shall tell me what