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Noel Rainguesson was clear beside himself with admiration of the poem, and wished he could do such a thing, but it was out of his line, and he couldn't, of course. He had it by heart in half an hour, and there was never anything so pathetic and beautiful as the way he recited it. For that was just his gift that and mimicry.
I do not consider this one much." "You astonish me; you do, indeed. So it is really your own?" "Quite. And there is plenty more where it came from" tapping his head with his finger, and taking occasion at the same time to cant his morion over his right ear, which gave him a very self-satisfied air "I do not need to borrow my ideas, like Noel Rainguesson."
"Now that is enough, Noel Rainguesson; stop where you are, before you get yourself into trouble. And don't bother me any more for some days or a week an it please you, for I cannot abide your clack." "Come, I like that! I didn't want to talk. I tried to get out of talking. If you didn't want to hear my clack, what did you keep intruding your conversation on me for?"
There was no malice behind it; and besides, the defect was not of his own creation; it was the work of Noel Rainguesson, who had nurtured it, fostered it, built it up and perfected it, for the entertainment he got out of it.
"He is a terror; and not just in this vicinity. His mere name carries a shudder with it to distant lands just his mere name; and when he frowns, the shadow of it falls as far as Rome, and the chickens go to roost an hour before schedule time. Yes; and some say " "Noel Rainguesson, you are preparing yourself for trouble. I will say just one word to you, and it will be to your advantage to "
I had some other playmates besides particularly four boys: Pierre Morel, Etienne Roze, Noel Rainguesson, and Edmond Aubrey, whose father was maire at that time; also two girls, about Joan's age, who by and by became her favorites; one was named Haumetter, the other was called Little Mengette. These girls were common peasant children, like Joan herself.
Noel Rainguesson fidgeted awhile, then broke out with a remark which showed what his mind had been running on: "The fact is, I was taken by surprise. That is the reason. If I had had a moment to think, I would no more have thought of running that I would think of running from a baby. For, after all, what is Theophile Benoist, that I should seem to be afraid of him?
Presently the reaction came, and the boys began to talk. Noel Rainguesson said: "Oh, are we never going to be men! We do grow along so slowly, and France never needed soldiers as she needs them now, to wipe out this black insult." "I hate youth!" said Pierre Morel, called the Dragon-fly because his eyes stuck out so.
The Paladin was suddenly become his ancient self again, and was swaggering up and down, a very monument of self-complacency. Noel Rainguesson said: "I think it is wonderful, the way he has brought us through." "Who?" asked Jean. "Why, the Paladin." The Paladin seemed not to hear. "What had he to do with it?" asked Pierre d'Arc. "Everything.
If I were where I belong; if I were in the place of La Hire, or Saintrailles, or the Bastard of Orleans well, I say nothing. I am not of the talking kind, like Noel Rainguesson and his sort, I thank God. But it will be something, I take it a novelty in this world, I should say to raise the fame of a private soldier above theirs, and extinguish the glory of their names with its shadow."
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