clothed in the richest stuffs, wrought upon the princeliest pattern,
and set off with jewels; but in that she had to be disappointed, of
course, Joan not being persuadable to it, but begging to be simply
and sincerely dressed, as became a servant of God, and one sent
upon a mission of a serious sort and grave political import. So then
the gracious Queen imagined and contrived that simple and
witching costume which I have described to you so many times,
and which I cannot think of even now in my dull age without being
moved just as rhythmical and exquisite music moves one; for that
was music, that dress–that is what it was–music that one saw with
a the eyes and felt in the heart. Yes, she was a poem, she was a
dream, she was a spirit when she was clothed in that.
She kept that raiment always, and wore it several times upon
occasions of state, and it is preserved to this day in the Treasury of
Orleans, with two of her swords, and her banner, and other things
now sacred because they had belonged to her.
At the appointed time the Count of Vend“me, a great lord of the
court, came richly clothed, with his train of servants and assistants,
to conduct Joan to the King, and the two knights and I went with
her, being entitled to this privilege by reason of our official
positions near her person.
When we entered the great audience-hall, there it all was just as I
have already painted it. Here were ranks of guards in shining
armor and with polished halberds; two sides of the hall were like
flower-gardens for variety of color and the magnificence of the
costumes; light streamed upon these masses of color from two
hundred and fifty flambeaux. There was a wide free space down
the middle of the hall, and at the end of it was a throne royally
canopied, and upon it sat a crowned and sceptered figure nobly
clothed and blazing with jewels.
It is true that Joan had been hindered and put off a good while, but
now that she was admitted to an audience at last, she was received
with honors granted to only the greatest personages. At the
entrance door stood four heralds in a row, in splendid tabards, with
long slender silver trumpets at their mouths, with square silken
banners depending from them embroidered with the arms of
France. As Joan and the Count passed by, these trumpets gave
forth in unison one long rich note, and as we moved down the hall
under the pictured and gilded vaulting, this was repeated at every
fifty feet of our progress–six times in all. It made our good knights
proud and happy, and they held themselves erect, and stiffened
their stride, and looked fine and soldierly. They were not expecting
this beautiful and honorable tribute to our little country-maid.
Joan walked two yards behind the Count, we three walked two
yards behind Joan. Our solemn march ended when we were as yet
some eight or ten steps from the throne. The Count made a deep
obeisance, pronounced Joan’s name, then bowed again and moved
to his place among a group of officials near the throne. I was
devouring the crowned personage with all my eyes, and my heart
almost stgood still with awe.
The eyes of all others were fixed upon Joan in a gaze of wonder
which was half worship, and which seemed to say, “How
sweet–how lovely–how divine!” All lips were parted and
motionless, which was a sure sign that those people, who seldom
forget themselves, had forgotten themselves now, and were not
conscious of anything but the one object they were gazing upon.
They had the look of people who are under the enchantment of a
vision.
Then they presently began to come to life again, rousing
themselves out of the spell and shaking it off as one drives away
little by little a clinging drowsiness or intoxication. Now they fixed
their attention upon Joan with a strong new interest of another
sort; they were full of curiosity to see what she would do–they
having a secret and particular reason for this curiosity. So they