I doubt not she had spent the night previous in vigil and prayer, as was so often her wont.

When we rose from our repast, she retired into a small inner room reserved for her use, and the little Charlotte went with her.

A curtain, partly drawn, shut off this room from the outer one in which we knights and some of her pages and gentlemen sat talking; and I was just able to see from where I sat that the Maid had laid herself down upon a couch, the little one nestled beside her, and I felt sure by her stillness and immobility that she was soon soundly asleep, taking the rest she sorely needed after the exertions and excitements of the early hours of the day.
Our conversation languished somewhat, for the warmth of the May afternoon made us all drowsy.

We, like the Maid herself, had laid aside our coats of mail, and were enjoying a spell of rest and leisure; and there was silence in both the rooms, when suddenly we--if indeed we slept--were awakened by the voice of the Maid speaking in the tones of one who dreams.
"I must up and against the English!" she cried, and at the first word I started broad awake and was on my feet at the door of communication, looking towards her.
She still lay upon the couch, but her eyes were wide open and fixed; her lips moved.
"I hear! I hear!" she went on, yet still as one who dreams, "I am ready--I will obey.

Only tell me what I must do.