“I know it was they; and I know how to distinguish them.”
“By what sign?”
“By their manner of saluting me. I have been these seven years
under their direction, and I knew who they were because they told
me.”
“Whose was the first Voice that came to you when you were
thirteen years old?”
“It was the Voice of St. Michael. I saw him before my eyes; and he
was not alone, but attended by a cloud of angels.”
“Did you see the archangel and the attendant angels in the body, or
in the spirit?”
“I saw them with the eyes of my body, just as I see you; and when
they went away I cried because they did not take me with them.”
It made me see that awful shadow again that fell dazzling white
upon her that day under l’Arbre F&eeacute;e de Bourlemont, and it
made me shiver again, though it was so long ago. It was really not
very long gone by, but it seemed so, because so much had
happened since.
“In what shape and form did St. Michael appear?”
“As to that, I have not received permission to speak.”
“What did the archangel say to you that first time?”
“I cannot answer you to-day.”
Meaning, I think, that she would have to get permission of her
Voices first.
Presently, after some more questions as to the revelations which
had been conveyed through her to the King, she complained of the
unnecessity of all this, and said:
“I will say again, as I have said before many times in these sittings,
that I answered all questions of this sort before the court at
Poitiers, and I would hat you wold bring here the record of that
court and read from that. Prithee, send for that book.”
There was no answer. It was a subject that had to be got around
and put aside. That book had wisely been gotten out of the way, for
it contained things which would be very awkward here.
Among them was a decision that Joan’s mission was from God,
whereas it was the intention of this inferior court to show that it
was from the devil; also a decision permitting Joan to wear male
attire, whereas it was the purpose of this court to make the male
attire do hurtful work against her.
“How was it that you were moved to come into France–by your
own desire?”
“Yes, and by command of God. But that it was His will I would
note have come. I would sooner have had my body torn in sunder
by horses than come, lacking that.”
Beaupere shifted once more to the matter of the male attire, now,
and proceeded to make a solemn talk about it. That tried Joan’s
patience; and presently she interrupted and said:
“It is a trifling thing and of no consequence. And I did not put it on
by counsel of any man, but by command of God.”
“Robert de Baudricourt did not order you to wear it?”
“No.”
“Did you think you did well in taking the dress of a man?”
“I did well to do whatsoever thing God commanded me to do.”
“But in this particular case do you think you did well in taking the
dress of a man?”
“I have done nothing but by command of God.”
Beaupere made various attempts to lead her into contradictions of
herself; also to put her words and acts in disaccord with the
Scriptures. But it was lost time. He did not succeed. He returned to
her visions, the light which shone about them, her relations with
the King, and so on.
“Was there an angel above the King’s head the first time you saw
him?”
“By the Blessed Mary!–”
She forced her impatience down, and finished her sentence with
tranquillity: “If there was one I did not see it.”
“Was there light?”
“There were more than three thousand soldiers there, and five
hundred torches, without taking account of spiritual light.”
“What made the King believe in the revelations which you brought
him?”
“He had signs; also the counsel of the clergy.”
“What revelations were made to the King?”
“You will not get that out of me this year.”