“And you in truth made that long perilous journey to speak with the King?”
“Yes, messire.”
“You seem o’er young for such a fatiguing march. You are, I should judge, not
over sixteen?”
“Seventeen, messire.”
“Have you, as ’tis said, a message for the King?”
“Yes, messire,” returned the maiden briefly.
“Tell it to us. We in turn will bear it to the King.”
Jeanne drew herself up at this, and stood regarding them calmly.
“I cannot, messire,” she said at length. “It is for the gentle Dauphin alone to hear.
To him, and to none other, will I tell it.”
“Maiden,” said the senior bishop earnestly, “the King hath many counsellors who are wise and learned men. It is their opinion that he ought not to see you until he learns the nature of your mission. If you in truth have aught that is good for him to hear, it were best to tell it us. That is, if you desire admission to his presence.”
“Is not the Dauphin master of his presence? Is it not his to say who shall, or who shall not be admitted to him?” demanded the maiden in such open eyed wonder
that the prelate looked confused.
“Certainly,” he said hastily. “But he sends certain of his friends to see if those
who seek admission are worthy to enter his presence. Be advised, my child, and tell us why you wish to see him.”
For a long moment Jeanne stood looking at him as though she saw him not; then
suddenly her face became transfigured with joy, for the Light shone beside her, and she bowed her head. The Voice that she waited for came instantly:
“Tell of thy mission, Daughter of God,” it said. “But of that which concerns the Dauphin speak not. Rise, and answer boldly. We will aid thee.”
The maiden raised her head, and said gently:
“I have leave from ‘My Voices,’ messire, to tell you that I have two commands
laid upon me by the King of Heaven. One, to raise the siege of Orléans; the other, to lead the Dauphin to Reims that he may be crowned and anointed there.”
The bishops heard her with amazement. They had not seen the Light, nor heard
the Voice, but they saw that the maiden had received a communication of some
kind, either from inward communion, or some celestial visitor. The senior bishop’s tones showed his wonder.
“Those are marvellous commands, my child. What sign can you give us that you
can perform them?”
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“I have not come to give signs,” cried Jeanne, her impatience flaring forth at this. “Give me men-at-arms, and let me show the work I am appointed to do.”
“Then will you relate how the commands were given to you?” questioned the bishop.
Briefly, because Jeanne never liked to talk much of her visions, the maiden told something concerning the matter. The whole of it she did not tell. Then followed questions pertaining to her manner of life, her devotion, her habits about taking the sacraments of communion and confession, and so on. To all of these she made answer freely, with such modest mien that the ecclesiastics finally withdrew, charmed by her simplicity and earnestness.
And now the delay was ended; for, as evening fell, there came the Count de Vendôme, a gracious nobleman richly attired, to escort her to the King. De Poulengy and De Metz rejoiced that there would be no further delay. Being personal attendants of Jeanne’s they were to accompany her to the castle. Count de Vendôme eyed the simple page attire of the maiden soberly. She was clad like the varlet of some lord of no great estate, in black cap with a little silver brooch, a grey doublet, and black and grey hose, trussed up with many points; the sword that Robert de Baudricourt had given her hung by her side. At first sight she might well have passed for a boy, she was so slender and carried herself so erectly. There was admiration in the nobleman’s glance as he surveyed her gracious figure, but his words were grave:
“Will you attend the audience in that garb, Pucelle?” he asked.
And Jeanne, remembering how De Metz with a like expression of countena1n
7 c
5 e
had asked a similar question when she wore her woman’s dress, laughed cheerily.
“This and none other, messire. For in this garb shall I do that which is commanded.”
So led by the nobleman and followed by the two knights the maiden started for
the castle. Up a broad winding path they wended their way to the rocky ridge of hill along which the great walls of the castle, interrupted and strengthened by huge towers, stretched. It was old and great and strong, having been builded when the Romans were lords of the land, and was a favorite seat of English kings before it passed into the hands of the French. From the high drawbridge above the moat, which was twenty feet deep, there was a wide prospect over the
