He launched into a fervid panegyric of Jeanne of Arc.

He told of her doings at Orleans, when her standard became the oriflamme of France, and her voice was more stirring than trumpets; of her gentleness and her wisdom.
He told of his first meeting with her, when she welcomed him in her chamber.

"She sent for wine and said that soon she would drink it with me in Paris.

I saw her mount a plunging black horse, herself all in white armour, but unhelmeted.

Her eyes were those of a great captain, and yet merciful and mild like God's Mother.