barber in his own high chair to represent the sham King; then he
told how the Court watched the Maid with intense interest and
suppressed merriment, expecting to see her fooled by the
deception and get herself swept permanently out of credit by the
storm of scornful laughter which would follow. He worked this
scene up till he got his house in a burning fever of excitement and
anticipation, then came his climax. Turning to the barber, he said:
“But mark you what she did. She gazed steadfastly upon that
sham’s villain face as I now gaze upon yourse–this being her noble
and simple attitude, just as I stand now–then turned she–thus–to
me, and stretching her arm out–so–and pointing with her finger,
she said, in that firm, calm tone which she was used to use in
directing the conduct of a battle, ‘Pluck me this false knave from
the throne!’ I, striding forward as I do now, took him by the collar
and lifted him out and held him aloft–thus–as it he had been but a
child.” (The house rose, shouting, stamping, and banging with their
flagons, and went fairly mad over this magnificent exhibition of
strength–and there was not the shadow of a laugh anywhere,
though the spectacle of the limp but proud barber hanging there in
the air like a puppy held by the scruff of its neck was a thing that
had nothing of solemnity about it.) “Then I set him down upon his
feet–thus– being minded to get him by a better hold and heave
him out of the window, but she bid me forbear, so by that error he
escaped with his life.
“Then she turned her about and viewed the throng with those eyes
of hers, which are the clear-shining windows whence her immortal
wisdom looketh out upon the world, resolving its falsities and
coming at the kernel of truth that is hid within them, and presently
they fell upon a young man modestly clothed, and him she
proclaimed for what he truly was, saying, ‘I am thy servant–thou
art the King!’ Then all were astonished, and a great shout went up,
the whole six thousand joining in it, so that the walls rocked with
the volume and the tumult of it.”
He made a fine and picturesque thing of the march-out from the
Audience, augmenting the glories of it to the last limit of the
impossibilities; then he took from his finger and held up a brass
nut from a bolt-head which the head ostler at the castle had given
him that morning, and made his conclusion–thus:
“Then the King dismissed the Maid most graciously–as indeed
was her desert–and, turning to me, said, ‘Take this signet-ring, son
of the Paladins, and command me with it in your day of need; and
look you,’ said he, touching my temple, ‘preserve this brain, France
has use for it; and look well to its casket also, for I foresee that it
will be hooped with a ducal coronet one day.’ I took the ring, and
knelt and kissed his hand, saying, ‘Sire, where glory calls, there
will I be found; where danger and death are thickest, that is my
native air; when France and the throne need help–well, I say
nothing, for I am not of the talking sort–let my deeds speak for
me, it is all I ask.’
“So ended the most fortunate and memorable episode, so big with
future weal for the crown and the nation, and unto God be the
thanks! Rise! Fill you flagons! Now–to France and the
King–drink!”
They emptied them to the bottom, then burst into cheers and
huzzas, and kept it up as much as two minutes, the Paladin
standing at stately ease the while and smiling benignantly from his
platform.
Chapter 8 Joan Persuades Her Inquisitors
WHEN JOAN told the King what that deep secret was that was
torturing his heart, his doubts were cleared away; he believed she
was sent of God, and if he had been let alone he would have set
her upon her great mission at once. But he was not let alone.
Tremouille and the holy fox of Rheims knew their man. All they