How strange to be asking the road to a village in an enchanted valley, where once a little girl played under a Fairy Tree, and on a summer's day in her father's garden saw a light and heard the voice of an angel. Even the way itself seems mysterious. You must wind among the hills, through still woods where no human form is seen, climbing, gradually climbing, until by and by you begin to descend to a wide valley with a river winding through—a hazy, purple valley, at one end a sleepy town, its spires showing above the trees.
This is Joan's land, the valley of the Meuse; you are entering its southern gateway, Neufchateau. You remember that the Maid came to Neufchateau. She was sixteen that summer and the Burgundians had raided Domremy.
The people, warned in time, fled with their flocks and goods, to take refuge in this strong town, where they lodged with a good woman called La Rousse, because of her glowing face and hair. You would be glad to find the house of La Rousse, but you will not be likely to do that; it was all too long ago. Of Joan in Neufchateau, however, there remains something; two churches, in fact, both old when she saw them. Joan certainly prayed in these churches, and they contain much that she could have seen.
The lower chapel of St. Nicolas was already three hundred years old when she came. Above, in one of the recesses, is a curious sculptured group, an "Entombment of Christ" which could have invited her wonder and adoration. Christophe has the ancient nave and choir, little changed. Joan herself is represented there by a small replica of Pierson Martin's lovely statue of her, "Leaving the Distaff for the Sword," showing her about as she must have looked when she was there, her face full of light, her dress the blue bodice and red skirt she wore to Vaucouleurs.
In the public square is a large statue of her, less intimate and beautiful. But now we are on the road to Domremy, following the Meuse. On a hill to the left stands the great castle of Bourlemont, and farther along comes Coussey, with its mossy church tower, familiar enough to the eyes of the children who looked down on it from the Fairy Tree.
