"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.
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