it. It seemed so needless and futile. For working priests and for people in religion she held a sacred regard. For learned Doctors she had no use.
The squire, a young man of the sword named Thibault, pleased her better than the priests, for he was in military dress. She acknowledged the presence of the Committee with an obeisance, then went quickly to the squire and clapped him
on the shoulder, comrade fashion.
“Would that I had many men of your way of thinking, friend,” she said.
“Maid,” spoke the abbot gravely, “attend now to what we shall say. We are sent
to you from the King.”
“I know quite well that you are sent to question me,” spoke the maiden with spirit, “but of what avail is it? I know neither A nor B.”
At this the Committee began to ply her with questions.
“Why have you come to Court?” asked the abbot.
“I am come from the King of Heaven to raise the siege of Orléans, and to lead
the Dauphin to Reims for his crowning and anointing,” she made answer.
“But what made you think of coming?” asked a professor of theology.
“Because of the great pity there was in Heaven for the realm of France, my Voices told me to come, nothing doubting,” replied the maiden earnestly.
“Your voices? What voices?”
Jeanne saw that much as she disliked to talk of her visions,––it was always of her mission and her Voices that she told,––there was need of some explanation.
The grave Doctors listened attentively while she told something of her revelations, but not all. She was a peasant maid, ignorant, simple, her hands hardened with toil, her way of life humble and obscure, yet as she related her ineffable experiences she seemed a thing divine.
Having much food for thought they questioned her no more that day, and Jeanne
retired to the chapel to seek comfort from her saints, who all this time continued to visit her daily, yet giving only the one constantly repeated command. The next day the Committee returned.
“You tell us,” said a professor of theology, “that God wishes to free the people of France from their distress. If He wishes to free them there is no need for the soldiers you ask for.”
“In God’s name,” exclaimed Jeanne with some irritation, “the men-at-arms will
fight, and God will give the victory.”
There was a stir among the learned men at this answer. The professor who had
asked the question smiled as though well pleased, while the King’s advocate murmured:
“No clerk of the court could have answered better.”
After the little flurry had subsided, one Seguin, a Carmelite friar of learning and repute, next took his turn. He was a native of Limoges, and spoke the dialect of his district.
“In what language, Pucelle, do these voices speak to you?”
Now this query seemed frivolous to Jeanne. She knew no language but French, so what other could the Voices use?
“In a better than yours,” she flashed, and there followed a general laugh, for the patois of Limoges was a common subject of ridicule.
“Do you believe in God?” continued the friar, nothing daunted by the mirth.
“More firmly than you do,” she replied seriously.
“Then you must know, Pucelle, that God does not wish us to trust you without
some sign that you can do what you say. Gideon, for a sign, laid a fleece of wool upon the floor, and in the morning there was dew upon it so that he could wring a bowl of water from it, while all about the floor was dry; and the second night the fleece was dry and the floor was wet. So Gideon showed to the children of
Israel, and it was his sign that he was from the Lord. We can not advise the King to risk his soldiers just on the strength of your simple word. What is your sign, Pucelle?”
“In God’s name,” cried Jeanne, now thoroughly worn out, “I did not come to show signs in Poictiers; but lead me to Orléans with few or many men-at-arms,
and I will show you the sign for which I am sent. Attend, and I will tell you also what is to happen in France: I will summon the English, and if they do not heed I will drive them from their siege. I will lead the Dauphin to his crowning and anointing at Reims; Paris will come into its allegiance to the rightful king, and the Duc d’Orléans will return from his captivity; so my Voices have told me.”
And of those who heard the words all lived to see the fulfillment of Jeanne’s prophecies save only the maiden herself. During her life but the first two came to pass.
“Why do you call the King the Dauphin, even as the foreigners do who deny him
the right to the throne?” asked another.
“Because he is not the King until he is anointed and crowned with the sacred oil,” she answered.
And so daily for three weeks the questioning continued. Beside this formal and
