But the King put his hand on her arm, and there was a really brave
awakening in his voice and a manly fire in his eye when he said:
“No, sit. You have conquered me–it shall be as you–”
But a warning sign from his minister halted him, and he added, to
the relief of the court:
“Well, well, we will think of it, we will think it over and see. Does
that content you, impulsive little soldier?”
The first part of the speech sent a glow of delight to Joan’s face,
but the end of it quenched it and she looked sad, and the tears
gathered in her eyes. After a moment she spoke out with what
seemed a sort of terrified impulse, and said:
“Oh, use me; I beseech you, use me–there is but little time!”
“But little time?”
“Only a year–I shall last only a year.”
“Why, child, there are fifty good years in that compact little body
yet.”
“Oh, you err, indeed you do. In one little year the end will come.
Ah, the time is so short, so short; the moments are flying, and so
much to be done. Oh, use me, and quickly–it is life or death for
France.”
Even those insects were sobered by her impassioned words. The
King looked very grave–grave, and strongly impressed. His eyes lit
suddenly with an eloquent fire, and he rose and drew his sword
and raised it aloft; then he brought it slowly down upon Joan’s
shoulder and said:
“Ah, thou art so simple, so true, so great, so noble–and by this
accolade I join thee to the nobility of France, thy fitting place! And
for thy sake I do hereby ennoble all thy family and all thy kin; and
all their descendants born in wedlock, not only in the male but also
in the female line. And more!–more! To distinguish thy house and
honor it above all others, we add a privilege never accorded to any
before in the history of these dominions: the females of thy line
shall have and hold the right to ennoble their husbands when these
shall be of inferior degree.” [Astonishment and envy flared up in
every countenance when the words were uttered which conferred
this extraordinary grace. The King paused and looked around upon
these signs with quite evident satisfaction.] “Rise, Joan of Arc,
now and henceforth surnamed Du Lis, in grateful acknowledgment
of the good blow which you have struck for the lilies of France;
and they, and the royal crown, and your own victorious sword, fit
and fair company for each other, shall be grouped in you
escutcheon and be and remain the symbol of your high nobility
forever.”
As my Lady Du Lis rose, the gilded children of privilege pressed
forward to welcome her to their sacred ranks and call her by her
new name; but she was troubled, and said these honors were not
meet for one of her lowly birth and station, and by their kind grace
she would remain simple Joan of Arc, nothing more–and so be
called.
Nothing more! As if there could be anything more, anything
higher, anything greater. My Lady Du Lis–why, it was tinsel, petty,
perishable. But, JOAN OF ARC! The mere sound of it sets one’s
pulses leaping.
Chapter 24 Tinsel Trappings of Nobility
IT WAS vexatious to see what a to-do the whole town, and next
the whole country, made over the news. Joan of Arc ennobled by
the King! People went dizzy with wonder and delight over it. You
cannot imagine how she was gaped at, stared at, envied. Why, one
would have supposed that some great and fortunate thing had
happened to her. But we did not think any great things of it. To our
minds no mere human hand could add a glory to Joan of Arc. To
us she was the sun soaring in the heavens, and her new nobility a
candle atop of it; to us it was swallowed up and lost in her own
light. And she was as indifferent to it and as unconscious of it as
the other sun would have been.
But it was different with her brothers. They were proud and happy