as much astonished to find that she was not overcome by the
pomps and splendors about her, but was even more tranquil and at
her ease in holding speech with a monarch than ever they
themselves had been, with all their practice and experience.
As for our two knights, they were inflated beyond measure with
pride in Joan, but nearly dumb, as to speech, they not being able to
think out any way to account for her managing to carry herself
through this imposing ordeal without ever a mistake or an
awkwardness of any kind to mar the grace and credit of her great
performance.
The talk between Joan and the King was long and earnest, and held
in low voices. We could not hear, but we had our eyes and could
note effects; and presently we and all the house noted one effect
which was memorable and striking, and has been set down in
memoirs and histories and in testimony at the Process of
Rehabilitation by some who witnessed it; for all knew it was big
with meaning, though none knew what that meaning was at that
time, of course. For suddenly we saw the King shake off his
indolent attitude and straighten up like a man, and at the same
time look immeasurably astonished. It was as if Joan had told him
something almost too wonderful for belief, and yet of a most
uplifting and welcome nature.
It was long before we found out the secret of this conversation, but
we know it now, and all the world knows it. That part of the talk
was like this–as one may read in all histories. The perplexed King
asked Joan for a sign. He wanted to believe in her and her mission,
and that her Voices were supernatural and endowed with
knowledge hidden from mortals, but how could he do this unless
these Voices could prove their claim in some absolutely
unassailable way? It was then that Joan said:
“I will give you a sign, and you shall no more doubt. There is a
secret trouble in your heart which you speak of to none–a doubt
which wastes away your courage, and makes you dream of
throwing all away and fleeing from your realm. Within this little
while you have been praying, in your own breast, that God of his
grace would resolve that doubt, even if the doing of it must show
you that no kingly right is lodged in you.”
It was that that amazed the King, for it was as she had said: his
prayer was the secret of his own breast, and none but God could
know about it. So he said:
“The sign is sufficient. I know now that these Voices are of God.
They have said true in this matter; if they have said more, tell it
me–I will believe.”
“They have resolved that doubt, and I bring their very words,
which are these: Thou art lawful heir to the King thy father, and
true heir of France. God has spoken it. Now lift up they head, and
doubt no more, but give me men-at-arms and let me get about my
work.”
Telling him he was of lawful birth was what straightened him up
and made a man of him for a moment, removing his doubts upon
that head and convincing him of his royal right; and if any could
have hanged his hindering and pestiferous council and set him
free, he would have answered Joan’s prayer and set her in the field.
But no, those creatures were only checked, not checkmated; they
could invent some more delays.
We had been made proud by the honors which had so
distinguished Joan’s entrance into that place–honors restricted to
personages of very high rank and worth–but that pride was as
nothing compared with the pride we had in the honor done her
upon leaving it. For whereas those first honors were shown only to
the great, these last, up to this time, had been shown only to the
royal. The King himself led Joan by the hand down the great hall
to the door, the glittering multitude standing and making reverence
as they passed, and the silver trumpets sounding those rich notes of