I went to her lodging to see her, and she sent for wine,
and she told me that we would soon drink wine in Paris.
It seemed to me a gift from heaven that she was there, and that I was seeing and hearing her.
She left cells on Monday at the hour of Vespers, alongside a great body of armed men.
I saw her mount her horse, a raid all in white armour,
with only her head bare and holding a small axe.
The great black charger was very restive at her door and would not let her mount.
Lead him, she said, to the cross which is in front of the church.
And there she mounted, the horse standing still as if he had been bound.
Then, turning towards the church which was close by,
she said in a beautiful feminine voice, you priests and people of the church,
Make processions and prayers to God for us." Then, turning to the road, forward, forward, she said.
Her unfolded standard was carried by a page.
She had her small axe in her hand,
and by her side rode a brother who had joined her eight days before.
So that's a letter written on the 8th of June, 1429, by a soft,
tender-hearted young nobleman, Guy de Laval, He's writing to his mother and he is pumped.
He is so full of excitement because he has just seen the heroine of the hour, Joan of Arc.
And Dominic, how beautifully you conveyed her feminine voice there.
Thank you.