What had that man done for his country or for anybody in it, that
she or any other person should kneel to him? But she–she had just
done the only great deed that had been done for France in fifty
years, and had consecrated it with the libation of her blood. The
positions should have been reversed.
However, to be fair, one must grant that Charles acquitted himself
very well for the most part, on that occasion–very much better
than he was in the habit of doing. He passed his pup to a courtier,
and took off his cap to Joan as if she had been a queen. Then he
stepped from his throne and raised her, and showed quite a spirited
and manly joy and gratitude in welcoming her and thanking her for
her extraordinary achievement in his service. My prejudices are of
a later date than that. If he had continued as he was at that
moment, I should not have acquired them.
He acted handsomely. He said:
“You shall not kneel to me, my matchless General; you have
wrought royally, and royal courtesies are your due.” Noticing that
she was pale, he said, “But you must not stand; you have lost blood
for France, and your wound is yet green–come.” He led her to a
seat and sat down by her. “Now, then, speak out frankly, as to one
who owes you much and freely confesses it before all this courtly
assemblage. What shall be your reward? Name it.”
I was ashamed of him. And yet that was not fair, for how could he
be expected to know this marvelous child in these few weeks,
when we who thought we had known her all her life were daily
seeing the clouds uncover some new altitudes of her character
whose existence was not suspected by us before? But we are all
that way: when we know a thing we have only scorn for other
people who don’t happen to know it. And I was ashamed of these
courtiers, too, for the way they licked their chops, so to speak, as
envying Joan her great chance, they not knowing her any better
than the King did. A blush began to rise in Joan’s cheeks at the
thought that she was working for her country for pay, and she
dropped her head and tried to hide her face, as girls always do
when they find themselves blushing; no one knows why they do,
but they do, and the more they blush the more they fail to get
reconciled to it, and the more they can’t bear to have people look at
them when they are doing it. The King made it a great deal worse
by calling attention to it, which is the unkindest thing a person can
do when a girl is blushing; sometimes, when there is a big crowd
of strangers, it is even likely to make her cry if she is as young as
Joan was. God knows the reason for this, it is hidden from men. As
for me, I would as soon blush as sneeze; in fact, I would rather.
However, these meditations are not of consequence: I will go on
with what I was saying. The King rallied her for blushing, and this
brought up the rest of the blood and turned her face to fire. Then
he was sorry, seeing what he had done, and tried to make her
comfortable by saying the blush was exceeding becoming to her
and not to mind it–which caused even the dog to notice it now, so
of course the red in Joan’s face turned to purple, and the tears
overflowed and ran down–I could have told anybody that that
would happen. The King was distressed, and saw that the best
thing to do would be to get away from this subject, so he began to
say the finest kind of things about Joan’s capture of the Tourelles,
and presently when she was more composed he mentioned the
reward again and pressed her to name it. Everybody listened with
anxious interest to hear what her claim was going to be, but when
her answer came their faces showed that the thing she asked for