It was the laugh of that accursed Brother Thomas! I had laid my face on my hands, being so weak, and was weeping for very rage at that which my unhappy eyes had seen, when I heard the laugh, and lifting my head and looking forth, I beheld the hood of the cordelier.
"Seize him!" I cried to Father Francois, pointing down at the cordelier.
"Seize that Franciscan, he has betrayed her! Run, man, it was he who cried in Flavy's voice, bidding them raise drawbridge and let fall portcullis.

The devil gave him that craft to counterfeit men's voices.

I know the man.

Run, Father Francois, run!" "You are distraught with very grief," said the good father, the tears running down his own cheeks; "that is Brother Thomas, the best artilleryman in France, and Flavy's chief trust with the couleuvrine.

He came in but four days agone, and there was great joy of his coming." Thus was the Maid taken, by art and device of the devil and Brother Thomas, and in no otherwise.