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JOAN THE MAID 
 
JOAN THE MAID 
 
 a Dramatic Etomance 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN HUNTLEY SKRINE 
 
 WARDEN OF GLENALMOND 
 AUTHOR OF 'COLUMBA,' 'A MEMORY OF EDWARD THRING,' ETC. 
 
 fLon&on 
 
 MACMILLAN AND CO. 
 
 AND NEW YORK 
 1895 
 
 EV. 
 
 c8 
 
 All rights reserved 
 
I\ Mm^oI 
 
To a Namesake of 
 
 The Maid's 'Sister of Paradise' 
 
 Saint Catharine 
 
 The Saint who warred and rued I sang 
 
 Thy woods among. 
 Among thy woods I heard the dang 
 Of Treason's gate, the trap that sprang, 
 When answer/ess to heaven uprang 
 
 The Maiden's wrong. 
 
 Tale of the crown of womanhood 
 
 I bring to thee, 
 Beside whose hearth, in lifted mood 
 Of commune on the Fair and Good, 
 I sat, and surelier understood 
 
 What women be. 
 
NOTE 
 
 The tale of Joan here presented, though described as 
 a Romance, claims to be true to history even in its 
 detail. Those incidents of the play which have no 
 place in the records have either been framed upon 
 the model of actual incidents, or at any rate are in 
 good accord with the known facts of the life. The 
 part of the plot concerned with Raimond (of whom 
 nothing is known beyond his name and office) will 
 seem the least in keeping with those facts ; yet hints 
 can be adduced from the history enough to legiti- 
 matise the conception of his relations to the Maid, 
 and of the abortive plans of rescue. 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONS 
 
 Charles, the Dauphin. 
 
 Georges de la Tremouille, Councillor to the Dauphin. 
 
 Regnault de Chartres, Chancellor, and Archbishop of 
 
 Rheims. 
 
 Le Macon, a Councillor. 
 
 De Gaucourt"! 
 
 Dunois I 
 
 La Hirf [French Commanders. 
 
 Xaintrailles J 
 
 Flavy, Governor of Compiegne. 
 
 Raimond, Squire to Joan. 
 
 D'Aulon, Mattre d 'Hotel to Joan. i 
 
 Louis de Contes, Page to Joan. 
 
 Pasquerel, Chaplain to Joan. 
 
 Cauchon, Bishop of Beauvais {presiding judge in the trial of 
 
 Joan). 
 
 Jean Eeaupere 1 . . „ , 
 
 •L t Assessors to Cauchon. 
 
 De Fonte ) 
 
 Guy de Laval, a Nobleman. 
 
 SIR Jamet, u. French Knight. 
 
 Friar Robert, a Preaching Friar. 
 
 Jacques (a Basque) \ 
 
 A Scottish Bowman 
 . t, {Soldiers. 
 
 A Breton . 
 
 A Gascon ) 
 
 A Minstrel. 
 
 Isambard de la Pierre, u. Dominican Monk. 
 
 Joan the Maid. 
 
 Margaret, a Gentlewoman. 
 
 Madame Boucher, Hostess to Joan at Orleans. 
 
 Doctors, Notaries, French Lords, English Soldiers, etc. 
 
eitts BMor, Brrrs ittpos. 
 
White star of passion, fiery-pure, 
 
 Death-lifted where thy-beam is thrown 
 O'er England's field as, o'er thine own — 
 
 Thy strifes are dope : thy loves endure. 
 
 For thou hast all forgot the pain, 
 
 Save when from thy large heaven is rolled 
 On foe that slew, and friend that sold, 
 
 Thy pardon like a sobbing rain. 
 
 Or if some ghost of battle won 
 
 Have touched thee, then on warring signs, 
 
 Of Lion and of Lily, shines 
 One love, descending as the sun. 
 
 High Sister mine of Paradise, 
 
 Blest singer were thy foeman's child 
 If love-gift of a song beguiled 
 
 A smile of those unscorning eyes. 
 
PROLOGUE 
 
 The edge of the forest near Domremy. A storm in 
 the distance. Joan seated. 
 
 Joan. Milking time is it : but I have no heart 
 To rouse them from the brook. How happy are they 
 Cooling their fetlocks in it, — all that's left, — 
 Their tails a-swing under the maple-bough. 
 Yea, let them bide awhile. Yon thunder-cloud 
 Makes not our way. 'Twill slake a neighbour's field, 
 Not ours ; more pity for't ! Well, let them bide. 
 I shall not weary soon of watching them, 
 With so strange things to muse on, ah ! so strange. 
 
 How went the song I made me in the wood ? 
 
 Sings 
 
 Voices, voices, in the woodland calling ! 
 
 Heard we true ? 
 Nay, a wind that rose, and raindrops falling 
 
 Where he blew, 
 
4 JOAN THE MAID prologue 
 
 Making patter all the leaves 
 Round the great oak's elfin eaves. 
 Ah ! who troweth 
 What the tree saith when the vain wind bloweth? 
 
 Nay, but, heart, 'tis true : 
 Hist ! my heart, we heard it, and we knew. 
 
 Enter Raimond on the other side 
 
 Raimond. I wonder if the hawk have built again 
 In the red fir. He knew (the quick-eyed knave) 
 Raimond had gone to court this nesting-time : 
 He'd not dare else. Who's yonder ? Yes, 'tis she, 
 Jacques' daughter : but how grown ! and sweet (I'll 
 
 swear it) 
 As when she witched me by their Dancers' Oak 
 Last summer. Sooth, and there's a tale thereby, 
 A magic tale of her. She looks it not : 
 So staid and simple : yet — I'll try her. Hist ! 
 She is singing to herself. She sees me not. 
 
 Joan sings 
 
 Silver wings : an awful face in glory ! 
 
 Saw we so ? 
 Nay, the tossing boughs of poplar hoary, 
 All ablow 
 In the dazzle of sunlight 
 Off the shower-edge breaking white. 
 
prologue JOAN THE MAID 5 
 
 Ah ! what wonder 
 If a maiden's fancy fleet beyond her ? 
 
 Nay, but, heart, 'tis so : 
 Peace, my heart, we saw Him, and we know. 
 
 Raimond approaches 
 
 Raimond. What sing you, Joan ? 
 
 Joan. Ah ! you, sir. Nay, 'tis nothing. 
 
 Raimond. Nothing? And so uptaken, as you sang, 
 You saw me not ! 
 
 Joan. By watching of the kine 
 
 Belike I saw not. 
 
 Raimond. Ay, belike, if kine 
 
 Were clouds or crows. Joan, it is full a year 
 (By seeing you I know it) since I left 
 Our Domremy. 
 
 Joan. Where were you, sir, the while ? 
 
 Raimond. At court, beside the King. 
 
 Joan. The King ! O then— 
 
 Raimond. What then ? 
 
 Joan. A thought. I cannot tell you what. 
 
 Raimond. And why should Joan be thinking of 
 the King, 
 You that have never seen him ? 
 
 Joan. Never yet. 
 
 Raimond. Nor ever will. The King, no hope has 
 he 
 
6 JOAN THE MAID prologue 
 
 To see his faithful people here, the foe 
 So hedge him. 
 
 Joan. Does the King not trust in God ? 
 
 Raimond. How know I? Chief he trusts La 
 Tremouille. 
 
 Joan. La Tremouille : what is it ? 
 
 Raimond. Simple one ! 
 
 But sooth, how should you know ? A lord it is, 
 A lord that rules the kingdom and the King. 
 
 Joan. That should he not! How dares he? 
 God is King 
 Over the King, none other. 
 
 Raimond. Joan, how strange 
 
 You looked, how older of a sudden ! 
 
 Joan. Sir, 
 
 What is it like to be at court ? 
 
 Raimond. That you 
 
 Should ask it ! Not so wonderful, one half, 
 As I believed it. But the times are sad, 
 And the King poor ; we know not where to turn. 
 
 Joan. Ah ! do ye not ? 
 
 Raimond. O ho ! 'tis maiden Joan 
 
 Shall be our counsellor ! . . . I did not mean 
 To mock you : but such look you threw me then. 
 
 Joan. For Joan, or any child, could counsel you. 
 God's door is always wide. 
 
 Raimond. Sooth, I bethink me : 
 
prologue JOAN THE MAID 7 
 
 You is it that would tarry at your prayer 
 Long when the Mass was done. And once you looked 
 Even so, for I was watching, as you kneeled 
 Under the great Saint Michael. Joan, do you 
 Remember that ? 
 
 Joan. My prayers are oftenest 
 
 Under the great Saint Michael. 
 
 Raimond. Ay, they set 
 
 His picture there, the flaming eyes and sword, 
 Because through Him my grandsire beat away 
 Those English from our tower. 
 
 Joan (^vehemently). As we shall beat them 
 
 Through holy Michael from all towers of France. 
 
 Raimond. Ha ! Joan, now see I what you prayed 
 for then ; 
 There comes the look again. But dost remember 
 How I came near (I know not why : no prayer 
 Had I to make), but down I knelt beside you 
 Till yours was ended ? 
 
 Joan. And you had no prayer : 
 
 You, that will be a knight when you are grown, 
 And fight these English ? 
 
 Raimond. Nay, no prayer I had ; 
 
 Only 'twas good to kneel beside you there, 
 As here is good to sit. 
 
 {Offers to make her sit down beside him.) 
 
 Joan. O pardon me ; 
 
8 JOAN THE MAID prologue 
 
 That were too equal. ' Like may sit with like,' 
 Our mothers say. 
 
 Raimond. My mother, she that died 
 
 By trouble of these fightings, said the Saints 
 Look on us all as equal. 
 
 Joan. Yea, the Saints. 
 
 But they who are not Saints may look on us : 
 And you are of the castle, not the cot. 
 
 Raimond. God made you for the castle, girl; 
 I know it, 
 Yes, for I passed you once among the swains 
 When some ill jest had risen. How you flamed 
 And scorched them dumb ! The anger in your 
 
 eyes 
 Was like my lady mother's when they told 
 New woes of trampled France. I would you were 
 My sister. 
 
 Joan. Noble sir, and how would I 
 That all the maids of France and all her men 
 Were sisters and were brothers to upbear 
 The woes of the one mother. 
 
 Raimond. All the men ! 
 
 Our men are maids that turn unfoughten and fly 
 At a whirr of an English arrow. 
 
 Joan. Shame to say it ! 
 
 Was it not told us in the village here 
 Of those who set the Lily flag again 
 
prologue JOAN THE MAID 9 
 
 On Michael's pinnacle by the foam, and drove 
 Their navies seaward ? Shame that you forget ! 
 
 Raimond. Ah! Joan, I do believe, to look on 
 you, 
 Our maids are men to win fair France again. 
 Why so, a maid — it was a maid, they say, 
 {Aside) And nigh Lorraine . . . beside an oak-tree 
 
 . . . why! 
 One of the people too. . . . (Aloud) Dost know the 
 fable? 
 
 Joan. What fable, sir ? 
 
 Raimond. O but you know it well. 
 
 • A wife hath marred the realm, a maid shall make.' 
 
 Joan. Why do you call it fable ? 
 
 Raimond. Nay, I know not. 
 
 But when I told it at the court, they mocked. 
 
 Joan. They did right ill to mock it. 
 
 Raimond. Joan, I vow, 
 
 If you were of the court they would not mock. 
 Saint Denis, no ! they should not, if — 
 
 Joan. The court ! 
 
 Ah me, God help me ! 
 
 Raimond. Maiden, what is this ? 
 
 What was there in my saying to shake you so ? 
 I would not jest at you, God knows, not I ; . 
 But if I touched unwitting — 
 
 Joan. Nay, not that. 
 
io JOAN THE MAID prologue 
 
 Something came o'er — a fear — I cannot tell it, 
 Of days to be — 
 
 Raimond. Fear ! There be fears enough 
 
 This bitter time ; France is a world of fears. 
 But wherefore words of mine — O, if you have 
 Some trouble of your home, and help of mine 
 Or comfort might — 
 
 Joan. Ah ! gentle sir, not now ; 
 
 I know not if some other day. 
 
 Raimond. Why then, 
 
 For sake of France and of our Domremy, 
 Yea, and for something, maiden, dearer yet, 
 Bid Raimond — there, your hand upon it. ... Ha ! 
 
 Joan. Why did you start ? 
 
 Raimond. Why ? Let the clap make answer. 
 
 I had not thought the storm so near us. There ! 
 Stand wide. Yon chestnut over us had the bolt. 
 And there again ! We are in the heart of it, girl ; 
 I saw the balled flame shiver adown an elm 
 To the earth, that swallowed it. Dost thou not fear ? 
 
 Joan. The fire of God ? Why should we fear it ? 
 
 Raimond. Ay, 
 
 But the touch death. T fear it. Wide, I say, 
 Stand wide of the wood. This drowning thunder-rain 
 Is kinder lodging than the covert. Hark ! 
 Why, said I not ? there's the big limb of oak 
 I dragged you from beneath comes hurtling down 
 
prologue JOAN THE MAID n 
 
 To brain us, were we under it. Heavens ! and you 
 — What ails you, maiden ? for you dread no more 
 This torment of the storm than if it were 
 Innocent sunshine, and you lift a front 
 Glad as a swordsman's when it peals to fight. 
 How can I choose but love you, being so brave ? 
 Dear maiden, nay, 'tis truth. ... Ah ! what is this ? 
 Merciful God ! 
 
 Joan. It strikes but whom He will. 
 
 Raimond. The miracle that you live to speak of it ! 
 I saw you set on fire, the falling flame 
 Wrapping you like a robe. And you no hurt ! 
 
 Joan. Indeed I thought the bolt had slain me. 
 
 Raimond. Yea, 
 
 You thought so ? Yet your eyes shone out of it 
 In joy as at a vision. Girl, you seemed 
 Like those who trod that furnace with the Lord. 
 The fire of God ? But O ! it came between. 
 I would it had not sundered you and me. 
 
 Joan. O peace ! I know not what you say. Fain 
 would I 
 Walk with my God, though He should come in fire. 
 But let us part ; the storm is less, the bolt 
 Has broke the cloud that bore. And peril's here 
 More than the bolt. Heaven keep you, sir . . . and all 
 The lovers of our France. (Goes.) 
 
 Raimond (alone). ' The lovers ' . . . ' France ' . . . 
 
12 JOAN THE MAID prologue 
 
 Less France, more love, were kinder. Is she fair ? 
 Not as our ladies of the court, and yet 
 When she uplit, how fairer ! Well, who knows ? 
 Twain that love France to-day may come to-morrow 
 To love — Yet ah ! the sign that sundered us, 
 The fire of God, she said, the fire of God. 
 
ACT I 
 
 SCENE I. — The Hall of the Castle of 
 Chinon. Night 
 
 The King, Nobles, Ladies of the Court 
 
 First Lord (entering). Hey day ! The blaze to- 
 night ! Our thrifty hall 
 And half a hundred lamps ! What riot's here 
 Of staid old steward Simon ? Friends, or is it 
 Some windfall to the starved exchequer ? 
 
 Second Lord. Ay, 
 
 Windfall enow. The wind blows something hither : 
 But if to fill or empty — You an hour, 
 A whole hour back at court, nor heard ! 
 
 First Lord. 'Tis you 
 
 I happen first on. 
 
 Second Lord. Tut ! your stable-lad 
 Would tell it, ere you loosed the stirrup. Faith, 
 All day St. Maurice is a-buzz with her, 
 The crazed wench of Lorraine, if craze it be 
 That brings her, and not craft, as think the wise. 
 
14 JOAN THE MAID act I 
 
 First Lord. Well, but her errand ? 
 
 Second Lord. Oh, a trifle, sir : 
 
 A gift she has from Heaven to make the King 
 Lord of his own, and bid these English pack. 
 
 First Lord. And do you credit her ? 
 
 Second Lord. Why, friend, my faith 
 
 Is — let her do the first, and I'll believe 
 She'll lightly do the second. . . . Hist ! I see 
 La Tremouille's cousin not three heads away. 
 Well, yonder through the hall is gone Vendome 
 To meet her at the stairfoot, much in pomp, 
 Mark you, and grave as if to pilot up 
 The Scots King's daughter, not a russet serge 
 And brown cheeks from the pasture. . . . There's 
 
 your squire, 
 Late too ; but in good time, for is he not 
 Lorrainer ? Ask him of his countrywoman. 
 
 First Lord (to Raimond, entering). Raimond, 
 didst ever in your marches know 
 This will-be wonder-worker ? 
 
 Raimond. Who is he ? 
 
 First Lord. He ! Then Heaven bless thee, 
 youngster. Paired are we 
 For rawness. 'Tis a maid. But luck she brings 
 To save all France. 
 
 Raimond. Then, man or maid, she comes 
 
 No hour too soon. And how then ? 
 
scene i JOAN THE MAID 15 
 
 Second Lord. Nay, but that's 
 
 Her secret. Guess it you ; for she was bred 
 Under the shadow of your grandsire's tower. 
 
 Raimond. So ? And they name her ? 
 
 Second Lord. Joan. Or, Joan the Maid, 
 
 To give the style she favours. Ah ! you know her. 
 
 Raimond. A Joan there was among our folk : a 
 child, 
 Scarce more, when I was with them — But, my lord, 
 What does the King in yon dim suit to-night, 
 And all the court so brave ? 
 
 Second Lord. Come, let us guess it. 
 
 I'll say he tones his splendour, not to abash 
 This country-clad ambassadress of heaven : 
 A courteous reason. You, rash boy, will say, 
 That prudent wight, our Dauphin's needleman, 
 Keeps back his braveries till more golden days 
 Arrive to pay his pains and — 
 
 VendSme (entering with Joan). Room ! my lords. 
 (Joan enters and pauses.) 
 
 Raimond (aside). Heaven keep us ! She ! or else 
 my eyes are witched. 
 
 A Lady. Poor child. What ails Vend6me to 
 leave her there 
 Daunted and mazed, and the King standing back 
 Hidden? 
 
 Second Lady. Not daunted. Mark the pose of her, 
 
i6 JOAN THE MAID act i 
 
 And her eyes ranging like a carrier bird's 
 Searching its goal. 
 
 Third Lady. Right : and she steers her to it 
 True as your homing dove. She has found him, ha ! 
 I marvel what's the message 'neath her wing. 
 
 (Joan goes forward and kneels a little in 
 front of the King.) 
 Joan. Heaven grant thee happy life, most gentle 
 
 King. 
 Charles. Do not mistake, good maid. Address 
 you there. 
 
 {Pointing to a richly-dressed courtier.) 
 Joan. Ah ! do not mock me, sire. You are the 
 
 King. 
 Charles. Mock me not you : look yonder ; by 
 the robe 
 Discern him. 
 
 Joan. You would play upon me, sire ; 
 
 I know not wherefore. But the King are you ; 
 To you it is God sent me. 
 
 Charles. Damsel, rise. 
 
 Perhaps we did but try you. Let it be. 
 Your name ? 
 
 Joan. My name is Joan the Maid. I come 
 
 To make you sure my God will have you crowned 
 At Rheims, through me His handmaid. 
 
 Charles. Rheims ! {To his courtiers) The child 
 
scene i JOAN THE MAID 17 
 
 Dreams it a morning's pleasuring o'er the hills. 
 
 (To Joan) Heaven clear your wits, my girl : 'twixt 
 
 Rheims and me 
 Stand half the English. 
 
 Joan. I have said it, sire. 
 
 My God will lead you into Rheims by me. 
 ... Ah ! they are laughing at me. Gentle Dauphin, 
 But you will heed my word, however these 
 Scorn it ; for you are ruler under God 
 Of France : you cannot scorn the weal of France. 
 O is it hard of credence ? Think you God 
 That hath such pity for our woeful land, 
 Will leave the true prince crownless, while the folk 
 Perish for want of him ? For were you crowned, 
 And on your brows the holy balm of France, 
 There is no might in any arm of men 
 To hold you from your kingdom. 
 
 Charles. Bravely spoke ! 
 
 'Tis brave, but simple. Can the sacred oil, 
 Though every drop were thrice a miracle, 
 Help the poor prince who reaches for it across 
 The thorn-hedge of a score of fortresses ? 
 How seems it you, Sire de la Tremouille ? 
 
 Tremouille. My liege, I hold, as yesterday, with 
 you 
 The sober counsel — to endure. Our strength 
 Is to sit still (my lord Archbishop's word) : 
 c 
 
18 JOAN THE MAID act i 
 
 A weakly strength, mayhap : but therewithal 
 Our strongest. Much ado to walk have we : 
 Your counsellor here bids fly. But while she 
 
 talks 
 The English hold of ours all Normandy, 
 Saving St. Michael's island-fastness, all 
 Loire side to northward : late on Rouvray field 
 Have stricken us hard, and now on Orleans 
 Their sword is falling — 
 
 Joan. Falling ! Ay, 'tis falling. 
 
 King, it has not fallen : it shall not fall. 
 
 1 saw the sword of Michael counter it. 
 Ay, ye believe not. But I saw it, I saw 
 
 On the altar step, beyond the darkening choir, 
 Great Michael, all his brand a blinding flame 
 Lit from his eyes : and, when I veiled my sight, 
 I heard him, ' Go, for this shall go before.' 
 Bethink thee, Dauphin : all the Holy Ones 
 Through the wide heaven are stirred with ruth; the 
 
 Saints, 
 And the great Charles, and Louis, and all that e'er 
 Wrought for dear France and loved her, on their 
 
 knees 
 Plead at the throne's foot with the Lord of Hosts 
 To bid them arm for succour. And ye delay ! 
 
 (A pause.) 
 Ah ! Christ, that these may see it, as I have seen. 
 
scene I JOAN THE MAID 19 
 
 Charles. Sirs, give us space. We will have secret 
 speech 
 A moment with the maiden. 
 
 Tremouille. Good my liege — 
 
 Charles. Nay, then, I well remember. Fear you 
 not. 
 
 (Beckons Joan, and goes apart with her 
 to a window?) 
 First Lord. How say ye ? Did she plant that 
 arrow right ? 
 She hath the King, I'll swear it. 
 
 Second Lord. Yes, the King. 
 
 Didst mark that creaming smile La Tremouille wears 
 Curdle on's lip ? The tempest in the girl, 
 That fired the King, has soured the Councillor. 
 
 Raimond. Never I saw him stirred before to put 
 The Tremouille back so stiffly. 
 
 First Lord. Bless her for't ! 
 
 I'll vow the magic's white that works him thus. 
 
 Raimond. White ! There was never black with a 
 white heart. 
 
 (Charles and the Maid talk apart.) 
 Charles. And that is true, maiden, and over-true. 
 Our hour's at darkest. Could I shut my eyes 
 To any ray, were it from God, and not — ? 
 Nay, looking on your face I cannot say it. 
 Yet our wise heads mistrust your voices, Joan ; 
 
20 JOAN THE MAID act i 
 
 Some even yourself. There would be surer sign 
 If 'twere of God. 
 
 Joan. What surer sign than this, 
 
 That France is dying, and God's angel sends 
 Word to her King to save her ? 
 
 Charles. To her King. 
 
 But are you sure then that he sent to me ? 
 
 Joan. As that the King is speaking with me now. 
 
 Charles. Is that so sure ? You doubted me at 
 first. 
 
 Joan. Not for a moment, when I found your face. 
 
 Charles. How knew you 'twas the King's ? 
 
 Joan. God told it me. 
 
 Charles. Why, then, He tells you all things. 
 
 Joan. No. Yet all 
 
 I need to work His will. 
 
 Charles. Then should He tell you 
 
 How to persuade the man He wills be crowned. 
 
 Joan. And that shall be, I doubt not. 
 
 Charles. Happy soul, 
 
 That hears God's voice so clear, and cannot doubt. 
 
 Joan. You do not doubt it. 
 
 Charles. Maiden, yet the man 
 
 Who does not doubt his God, may doubt himself. 
 
 Joan (starting and looking fixedly on him). 'May — 
 doubt — himself.' Ah ! then I see it, I see. 
 God showed your face : He shows to me your heart. 
 
scene i JOAN THE MAID 21 
 
 You do mistrust yourself the heir of France. 
 Out on her, wicked One ! Alas, forgive me : 
 She was your mother in all but only love ; 
 111 mother of France, ill mother of thee, but yet 
 Thy mother. O she lied, she lied in hate. 
 And by the Spirit of truth I tell thee true, 
 Her son thou art : thou art the seed of France. 
 
 Charles. Ha ! sayest thou, maiden ? 
 
 Joan {seizing his hand). Stay, and hear me out. 
 Now is it borne in on me like a light. 
 Prince, you have feared as I have, you have known 
 God's finger in a weight unbearable 
 Ruining the bowed soul under it, as have I. 
 Yea, this it was when at the feet of Christ . . . 
 Fallen on His altar-stone ... in the lone shrine . . . 
 Under the banner of your fathers' wars . . . 
 Say I not true ? Yes, yes — in that sharp hour 
 That woke the doubt and tore you with it again, 
 When first they brought to you my call— O this, 
 This was your prayer, that of His pity Christ 
 Would ease you of a realm not yours, or else 
 Write you His sure Anointed by a sign 
 Not to be questioned more. Behold ! He heard. 
 Behold ! the sign am I. Thou art the King. 
 
 Charles. Maid, I am overborne and borne away 
 By a great wind of wonder. 
 
 Joan. Let it bear thee. 
 
22 JOAN THE MAID act i 
 
 It is a holy wonder, a wind of God, 
 Breath of His Spirit. 
 
 Charles. Yea, for witness Christ, 
 
 That you have spelt the prayer none knew but He. 
 
 Joan. And you to Rheims will go with me. 
 
 Charles. Yea, yea : 
 
 Joan, you shall lead us, if my counsellors — 
 Nay, what have we with them ? Henceforward I 
 Am mine own counsel : I will dare to rule. 
 ... Ah ! Joan, how sore a thing it is — to rule. 
 
 Joan. Is it so sore ? Nay, Dauphin, not for who 
 Is King but under Christ the very King. 
 But look upon your Lords ; they are marvelling there. 
 
 Charles. Ah me, my lords ! my lords and over- 
 much ! 
 Well, I will speak to them. 
 
 My peers and dames, 
 Something has fallen 'twixt this maid and us 
 Beyond all measure of earth, not to be told. 
 For you — this maiden's message and herself 
 Judge with the best wit of your best. For me — 
 I have seen the hand of God : I am content. 
 
 Vendome, we lodge the damsel in our court 
 Pending more counsel. You, my lord of Rheims, 
 Being spiritual, shall advise what means are best 
 To prove her to the realm's content. 
 
scene ii JOAN THE MAW 23 
 
 Regnault. My liege, 
 
 All my poor skill to serve you. 
 
 Tremouille. And all your court, 
 
 Believe it, gracious Dauphin, are one heart 
 To welcome your new hope. Which Heaven 
 confirm ! 
 
 Charles. We thank you. Maiden, you are guest 
 of ours, 
 But, if you would to lodging — 
 
 Joan. With your leave. 
 
 For I am very weary, as when the Saints 
 Have spoken with me. All fair angels keep 
 Thy slumber, sire ! 
 
 Charles. Gentle my maid, and thine. 
 
 SCENE II. — The Garden at Chinon, overlooked 
 by a Balcony. Early Morning 
 
 Guy (from the balcony). Hillo ! sweet cousin, art 
 abroad betimes. 
 What can my gallant want ? 
 
 Raimond (below in the garden). To smell the 
 
 spring. 
 Guy. Lord ! 'tis a lovely answer, and demure ; 
 What's more, a truthful. Yes, some flower of spring, 
 That opes at point of morning on the lawn 
 
24 JOAN THE MAID act i 
 
 To bonny Raimond. Lily, violet, rose ? 
 Or what's his fancy this week ? 
 
 Raimond (picking a daisy, and holding it up). 
 Look, my coz ; 
 Divine whose fancy this is. 
 
 Louis {entering balcony behind Guy). Marguerite ! 
 O ho ! a hit, a hit for Raimond. Guy, 
 Swear now you never heard of Marguerite : 
 Nor even kissed her in the lilac bower, 
 When I— 
 
 Guy. You too, my mighty squire, afoot ! 
 
 You four feet and a half of scandal. Fie ! 
 Such naughty manners in the tender imp. 
 High time grave Father Etienne hear of this, 
 And counsel with the Countess : or — I have it. 
 Raimond, this gentleman shall be, they say, 
 Page of the Maiden Joan, Heaven help her ! You, 
 For she's your countrywoman, warn her straight 
 What cockatrice she'll nurse. Off, mischief, off, 
 And see your lady's courser groomed against 
 Her tilting in the mead. I'll come, and end 
 My homily going. 
 
 Louis. O you never lack 
 
 Talk at your need : but mark, how one good word 
 Upset you, being true. 
 
 Guy. Come, must I beat you, 
 
 Child, into better manners ? {Exeunt!) 
 
scene n JOAN THE MAID 25 
 
 Raimond. Gone, my luck 
 
 Be thanked. She passes by this alley. Yes. 
 
 (Sees Tremouille.) 
 Beshrew my ears, then ! 
 
 Tremouille. Ah ! your kinsman, sir, 
 
 Seeks you in haste : some service of the King's, 
 I take it. 
 
 Raimond. Thanks, my lord. (Goes.) 
 
 Tremouille. That clears the field. 
 
 This way the sibyl comes : and am I not 
 The sager escort ? Let me squire her home, 
 And solve the engaging riddle — Joan the Maid. 
 I'll need endure her yet, since Aragon 
 Bargains his aid so stiffly. But to march 
 In rank with Saints and Angels, Tremouille, 
 That suits you not : you cannot keep the step. 
 Come, there's a girl behind the prophetess ; 
 Unveil her. 
 
 Enter Joan 
 
 Tremouille. Give you a good morrow, Joan. 
 You walk right early. 
 
 Joan. From the Mass, my lord. 
 
 Tremouille. Indeed you fail it seldom. You 
 will judge 
 Our Court too scant of worship. 
 
26 JOAN THE MAID act; i 
 
 Joan. Theirs the loss, 
 
 My lord, and all the kingdom's. 
 
 Tremouille. We will mend, 
 
 Exampled thus. How likes it you at Court ? 
 
 Joan. Right ill, right ill. 
 
 Tremouille. So ? yet you bear yourself 
 
 Well, damsel, to a marvel. Pardon me, 
 I speak but after Queen Yolande. 
 
 Joan. My lord, 
 
 I have only borne me as my nature is. 
 
 Tremouille. Nature is noblest manners then. 
 But why 
 Mislike you so the Court ? 
 
 Joan. Because the Court 
 
 Is not the Camp. O, there, I should be there ! 
 
 Tremouille. You shall, when speaks the Church. 
 
 Joan. 'Tis long to wait 
 
 Tremouille. Yet, damsel — 
 
 Joan. Pray you call me simple Joan, 
 
 My lord ; I am not gentle. 
 
 Tremouille. Why, for that, 
 
 There are of us, if so the King inclined, 
 Would have you gentled ere your enterprise. 
 
 Joan. You do me wrong to speak it. Who am I ? 
 God's voice to-day for France, another while 
 A village maid again. 
 
 Tremouille. And do you think, 
 
scene ii JOAN THE MAID 27 
 
 When our good hopes in Joan are fruit, the King 
 Will let you from him ? 
 
 Joan. Yes, how else ? 
 
 Tremouille. And you 
 
 Would go from Court to cottage ? 
 
 Joan. O how blithe ! 
 
 Tremouille (aside). She means it. Need I fear 
 her ? (Aloud) I perceive 
 We courtiers find no favour in your eyes. 
 
 Joan. My lord ! 
 
 Tremouille. I mean you think us adversaries, 
 And hinderers of your counsel. Do you not ? 
 
 Joan. Indeed I thought you gave it little help. 
 
 Tremouille. When churchmen are so tardy, 
 men of state, 
 Whose task is not the spiritual assay, 
 May be forgiven demur. Besides, at Court 
 (Ask your own knowledge) there are nice regards 
 Of person, time, mood, favour, interest. 
 We move to action through such winding ways 
 It spreads the journey. 
 
 Joan. Will those English wait 
 
 Because your ways are winding ? 
 
 Tremouille. Joan, the fault 
 
 Lies not with me. You do not know the Court, 
 The maze of doubling passages and doors 
 That keep their secret. There be keys, yes ! 
 
28 JOAN THE MAID act i 
 
 But could you handle them, unhelped ? I vow 
 My caution, tho' you count it for mislike, 
 Shall bring your counsel by a nearer road, 
 Would you so trust me. 
 
 Joan. But there needs no trust. 
 
 God's is the counsel ; Joan is ready here 
 To go when ye believe. Why will ye not ? 
 The Dauphin did not doubt me. 
 
 Tremouille. Ah, but he — 
 
 Joan, let me praise your conquest. Wonderful 
 Your instant mastery of our prince's heart ! 
 You may do much with him, — yet (have I leave ?) 
 — Nay, you have marked it, how he balances 
 Between advisers, this way, and now that. 
 Things would go swifter, could his counsellors 
 Agree without the chamber-door. 
 
 Joan. My lord, 
 
 He is the prince ; he has the Spirit of God. 
 Shall we not let his own heart counsel him ? 
 
 Tremouille. Which is, let Joan the wise be 
 counsellor, 
 The rest be dumb. 
 
 Joan. I am not counsellor : 
 
 I am not wise : I only heard of God, 
 And came to tell him. O that all were done, 
 And I beside my mother's fire again ! 
 Great sir, in God's name, do not daunt him, you. 
 
scene ii JOAN THE MAID 29 
 
 Tremouille. Why, Joan, I will not. I am cured 
 of fears 
 Myself, if you are proven by the Church ; 
 And give my voice with yours, tho' something wronged 
 (Confess) by your mistrust. 
 
 Joan. I'll beg of you 
 
 A thousand pardons for it, if your word 
 Will stead me now. 
 
 Tremouille. Well, that is fairly spoke. 
 And may our concord prosper ! 
 
 Joan. As I pray. 
 
 But I am stayed for, and beseech your leave. 
 
 Tremouille. Fair day to you ! {Exit Joan.) 
 Now, what to make of this? 
 What is she seeking here ? A woman has 
 Her price, like every man ; but tell me Joan's ! 
 ... I like her none the better. Shrewdness self 
 Is our sweet rustic ; in the game of Court, 
 And playing with our Kingling as the stake, 
 I dare not grant her odds. Well, Aragon 
 Fails : to it, Joan. Your boast is still to prove : 
 It may miscarry— Tremouille there to help. 
 
30 JOAN THE MAID act i 
 
 SCENE III.— A Street in Orleans. The Fort 
 'London,' built by the English, is seen in 
 distance. Soldiers and Citizens on Benches. 
 
 A Breton. Art early off the wall, old Jacques, 
 to-day. 
 What's fallen to bring thee ? 
 
 Jacques. Fallen ? I think it be 
 
 That hundred-pound-weight pebble we let fall 
 Slap in the London's mouth, sirs, plump and true 
 On her big bombard's nozzle. After that, 
 Was quiet. Drop a plum in a brat's mouth, 
 You stop the bellow : Peter's plum did hers. 
 They're mute as mice an hour long. ' Go, my lads,' 
 Cries Peter, with a grin, ' a score of you, 
 And stretch your legs at ease. The Godons there 
 Will want no more of us this afternoon ! ' 
 Come, sit you down, and drink stout Peter's health. 
 
 Breton. St. Denis keep him ever a clean eye. 
 And yet I'd rather than a pair of hits 
 See the cock swing on steeple, and the wind 
 Ferrying our beef up river. 
 
 Jacques. Fill, my friend. 
 
 If we must eat the less there's drinking still. 
 
 Scot. Not long that either. 
 
 Breton. When the food is out, 
 
scene in JOAN THE MAID 31 
 
 The fight's out too. There are pinched bellies here, 
 Mark me, would sell us for a bellyful. 
 
 Gascon. The knaves that battered the com- 
 mandery door. 
 Give me the piking them ! 'Twould save the meat 
 Of honest fellows with a pair of hands, 
 To stay rogue mouths that fashion. 
 
 Minstrel enters singing 
 
 . . . the arrow, the arrow, 
 The wing and the sting of the arrow. 
 
 Gascon. Hark ye now : 
 
 The lazy, crazy knave that gives the folk 
 Faint stomachs with his drone. I'd have the rogue 
 Whipped out of town and sent to earn his crust 
 Harping to Godons. Hunger blight 'em both ! 
 Have at you, rascal. {Moves to strike him.) 
 
 Scot {interposing). Nay, that shall ye not 
 Let the poor singer be. 
 
 Gascon. What's he to you, then ? 
 
 Thou'lt claim no kin in him, that art not French. 
 
 Scot. I know not : there's a breath of mountain 
 song 
 Comes when I hear him. A good music, sirs : 
 'Tis sad but gallant, and it stirs the blood 
 More than a merrier. O the times have been 
 
32 JOAN THE MAID act i 
 
 My mates and I have harried English ground 
 To even its like : 'tis our glen music, friends, 
 Wail of the wind in't and the river's wrath. 
 
 Jacques. Ods! bowman Scot, didst ever loose 
 till now 
 So many words at once ? Wert wont to keep 
 More shafts than words in quivers. 
 
 Scot. More's the thrift. 
 
 Jacques. Belike. Well I strike thy way : let us 
 hear him. 
 Sing us the ballad you were trolling now. 
 
 Minstrel. It will not please you, masters. 
 'Twas but made 
 For womenfolk and babes, 
 
 Jacques. Sing out and fear not. 
 
 Minstrel sings 
 
 ' There's a hum in the air. 
 
 Is it honey bee there, 
 And the winter wind cold on the meadow ? 
 
 O mother, what fled 
 
 On the wing overhead : 
 Is it swallow went by with her shadow ? ' 
 
 ' Ah ! no and no. 
 Shelter thee low, 
 
SCENE III JOAN THE MAID 33 
 
 Child, from the wing of the arrow, the arrow, 
 The wing and the sting of the arrow.' 
 
 ' Is there bread nevermore, 
 
 Nor on board nor in store, 
 And wee Janet afaint for the hunger ? 
 
 O when and O when 
 
 Comes father again ? 
 She will die if he tarry the longer.' 
 
 ' Cease, my boy, cease : 
 God be your peace ! 
 Father he lies with the arrow, the arrow, 
 Fast in his bosom the arrow.' 
 
 Gascon. There! said I not? What does he 
 daunting babes 
 And womenfolk in that sort ? 
 
 Jacques. Hold a bit ! 
 
 He's yet an arrow of his own in's case ; 
 Canst see it by his eyes. Come, let it fly. 
 
 Minstrel 
 ' Ah ! woe and ah ! woe. 
 If the father be so, 
 Then who will be succour to-morrow ? ' 
 
 ' Nay, child, be you brave : 
 
 When the man cannot save, 
 
 Shall the woman be succour in sorrow. 
 
 D 
 
34 JOAN THE MAID act I 
 
 O a virgin will tread 
 The flying asp dead : 
 O a maid shall have might on the arrow, the 
 arrow, 
 The flight and the bite of the arrow.' 
 
 Jacques. 'Fore God, a gallant music, as you said, 
 N Friend bowman. Maid — the Maid ! Luck send her 
 quick, 
 But (curse the luck) she tarries. Pass a week, 
 And, friends, we'll have clean teeth in Orleans. 
 
 Gascon. Great thanks, to help us when they've 
 picked our bones ! 
 'Tis ' coming, coming, coming.' Let her come. 
 A Voice in the Crowd. She comes ! 
 Soldiers. Who says it? 
 
 Friar Robert {stepping out). I ! 
 
 Soldiers. How know ye that ? 
 
 Robert. As all may know it who will. When 
 man has shot 
 His last, 'tis then we'll hear God's quiver rattle. 
 And, brothers, is there left one bolt in yours ? 
 
 Gascon. Ye preaching fool ! Is that your news ? 
 Be hanged, 
 You and your sermon in your cowl-string. Off! 
 Breton. Shame ! He's the stoutest heart within 
 the gates. 
 
scene in JOAN THE MAID 35 
 
 Stand to it, Brother Robert, preach it out. 
 Sirs, if we be not fallen in hands of God, 
 111 fall is ours, I trow. 
 
 Robert. Ill fall indeed. 
 
 But in the Lord's hands are we fallen. I know it. 
 There came such brightness on me when I woke, 
 And after what a dream ! 
 
 Woman. Nay, tell us that. 
 
 Robert. I dreamed I wandered on an endless 
 plain 
 All in a mortal terror ; for a cloud 
 Of loathly hawks, a hundred, following wheeled, 
 Darted, and struck, and struck : and as I might 
 With hand and arm I fought and fended me, 
 But still they stooped and struck, till sick I grew 
 For the long horror, and my arms as lead 
 For labour. Then, and when I thought to swoon 
 And let the fierce beaks end me, lo ! the plain 
 Was shocked with a clear trumpet, and all the fowl 
 Screamed and went up and hung a moment, and 
 
 then 
 Shot like a volley of arrows along the wind 
 Off into dusk and silence. And I saw 
 A broad and silver star that, nearing, rose 
 A pillar of white fire, and last a face, 
 A presence, horsed or winged I know not— Ha ! 
 
 (A bugle' note at the head of the street!) 
 
36 JOAN THE MAID act i 
 
 Woman. Look if he have not fallen a-heap. He 
 thought, 
 Poor soul, it was his trumpet blowing again. 
 
 Jacques. Well, 'tis not blown for nothing. See 
 the folk 
 Flocking this way together ; ods my life ! 
 But there's Sir Jamet, and he's back from Blois. 
 Ho, ho ! the news. 
 
 Herald. Good people, pray you keep 
 
 Silence to hear Sir Jamet make report, 
 
 Crowd. That will we. Brave Sir Jamet ! Hear 
 
 him, hear him. 
 Sir Jamet. Soldiers and men of Orleans, dear 
 my friends, 
 Good cheer. I bring you from the General's door 
 (His wish : he would not let you wait one hour) 
 The royal message. Thunder it you abroad, 
 And make yon English quake behind their towers. 
 The Maid is proven. The Maid has ta'en the march. 
 {Shouts, ' Long live the Maid!') 
 Robert. God, Thou art just. 
 Woman. O is it sure, is it sure ? 
 
 Sir Jamet. Good dame, and would I ride my 
 horse half dead, 
 And race 'twixt English towers in open day, 
 And take a bolt-head on my saddle-leather 
 And twain upon my hauberk's ribs, to bring 
 
scene in JOAN THE MAID 37 
 
 False news or doubtful ? No, she comes, she comes. 
 She tramples, while we talk, the road of Blois. 
 From the first hill I watched her banner spring 
 White from the gateway, under it a star 
 Of armour, and a wind brought up the chant 
 As from an army's throat forth-speeding her. 
 And then I turned and spurred for all your lives. 
 Hold out one daylight more, and France is ours. 
 Jacques. Hold out a hundred, now the Maid's 
 on horse. 
 This makes the blood run lusty. I could swear 
 I'd dined on honest beef a fortnight. 
 
 Breton. Peace, 
 
 Old talker. Good Sir Jamet, tell us more. 
 
 Sir Jamet. With a right merry heart. What 
 
 would ye hear ? 
 Woman. How looks she then : and is she verily 
 like 
 The blessed angels ? 
 
 Sir Jamet. Sooth, and how should I 
 
 Be judge of that ? Unless indeed to be 
 Most woman is most angel. So, 'twere true. 
 When I have done, ask holy Robert there 
 Whether she feature angel. But for me, 
 Not till these eyes must close on women and men, 
 Nor haply after, if God open them, 
 Shall I behold a sight so wonderful. 
 
38 JOAN THE MAID act i 
 
 Breton. Is she so fair ? This was not told us. 
 
 Sir Jamet. Nay, 
 
 My word was f wonderful.' I said not ' fair.' 
 If she be fair as men call fair of face, 
 Scarce I bethought me. Truth, a bloom she wears, 
 Flower of the blowing field and open sky, 
 That mates the shine of the black locks above. 
 And shapely is she made of limb ; and treads, 
 Like roe-deer, strong and supple. But to tell 
 Of features — friends, I knew, I saw but one. 
 For when she spake with mine own self that once, 
 Bidding me tell you be of cheer, her eyes, 
 All tears with her o'erflowing pitifulness, 
 All fire with that vast wonder of her faith, 
 These were the Maiden, and I saw but these. 
 
 Woman. And you have told it us right well, Sir 
 Jamet. 
 Praise God, she verily is the Angel Maid. 
 
 Breton. Yet she's but woman, and unmeet for 
 arms. 
 How will she fare in wars ? 
 
 Sir Jamet. O then I would 
 
 Ye had seen her on the muster-field of Blois, 
 With what a seat she rode her destrier out, 
 Coal-black and tall and hot, Alencon's gift, 
 And prouder than to bear a prince : for he, 
 When one brought forth her banner, and she reached 
 
Scene in JOAN THE MAID 39 
 
 To take it, and he saw that first of beams 
 
 Fan the gold broideries into sparks, and set 
 
 The lilies tossing on the dimpling white, 
 
 Upright he reared and wheeled and gambolled from it 
 
 So riotously, we feared. But she with never 
 
 A shake in the clear voice said, ' Turn me there 
 
 The flag-beam, let him look upon his God.' 
 
 (For on that side was God the Father woven, 
 
 Poising the world on palm, and underneath 
 
 Twain angels held to Him the lily of France.) 
 
 Sirs, the strong beast beneath her, when he saw it, 
 
 Stood fast and trembled ; then he reached his neck 
 
 Forward, as if he wooed a master's touch, 
 
 And softly bore her towards it, and she took. 
 
 O had ye seen her take it, had ye seen 
 
 The shining of her face ! 'Fore Christ, I know not 
 
 What angels be, yet if God bade one go 
 
 To war for holy France, an angel's face 
 
 Could light but with her gladness. O she caught, 
 
 She kissed the staff, she kissed the hem. The steed 
 
 Flung up the white star on his front to heaven, 
 
 And neighed for trumpet. Round she reined him 
 
 there, 
 And shook the pole, and swung the folds abroad, 
 Crying, ' The banner of France, the banner of Christ : ' 
 And pricked him to career : and down the host, 
 The steely-billowy seas of armoured heads, 
 
40 JOAN THE MAID act l 
 
 Went onward bounding, as a barque that strains 
 Across a racing seaway, dips and rears 
 Its snowy pillar of sail : for o'er the Maid 
 That shining banner of the weal of France, 
 Lifting and dipped and lifting, seemed to blow 
 Filled with our blasts of shouting : and drooped at last, 
 Pausing, to drape her sun-bright side, and kiss 
 The flushed girl-cheek and bright locks bare of helm, 
 And glory of her raptured maidenhood. 
 
 Ah ! but I cannot tell it as I saw, 
 
 For fulness of the heart. Yourselves will see. 
 
 Crowd. Long live Sir Jamet ! 
 
 Jacques. Round me, fellows, ho ! 
 
 We'll lift him on my target shoulder-high 
 And bear him to the rampart. There we'll shout, 
 Till Talbot's sick for spite, ' She comes, she comes.' 
 
 {Exeunt omnes.) 
 
 SCENE IV. — Outside the Church of Sainte 
 Croix in Orleans 
 
 Joan enters, following a procession ^Priests, who 
 chant 
 
 Mary, Maiden erst on earth, 
 Mother of the saving Birth, 
 By the Maiden shield us. 
 
scene IV JOAN THE MAID 41 
 
 Friend of all that virgin be, 
 Might of thy virginity 
 
 Through the Maiden yield us. 
 
 Michael, in the angel war 
 First of all that warriors are, 
 
 Hear us O, and heed us. 
 Ghostly Captain, Lord of Strength, 
 Draw from sheath the sword at length, 
 
 Sword of heaven, and lead us. 
 
 Priests and Joan enter the church. Pasquerel and 
 D'Aulon remain without. Enter Raimond. 
 
 Raimond. Most timely met with, Father Pasquerel. 
 I have not come astray. And D'Aulon too. 
 'Tis the Maid's household gathered. Comes she here ? 
 
 Pasquerel. Why, sir, we wait her now. She hears 
 within 
 The Mass at the great altar. 
 
 D'Aulon. After that 
 
 Shake loose your blade, young sir, and look for deeds. 
 
 Raimond. Ah ! tell me that. I come in time, 
 though late. 
 
 D'Aulon. Truth, and I marvel that I see you now. 
 You came not with the Maid, nor came from Blois 
 With us that fetched the succours. 
 
 Raimond. No, for lack 
 
42 JOAN THE MAID act i 
 
 Of the King's leave. I asked of Tremouille ; 
 
 And he was bland as ever, and helped me nought. 
 
 And then of Regnault, he that fumbled so 
 
 In this despatch of succours. Last I won 
 
 Cold leave, and spurred to catch you: saw you 
 
 pass 
 (And marvelled) thro' the forts without a blow. 
 I breathed my horse behind a copse, and ran 
 The hazard. Sirs, they sent me never a shaft ! 
 What ails those English ? 
 
 D'Aulon. 'Tis the Banner, sir : 
 
 The Banner, and the Maid that's under it. 
 They say she's sorceress ; that we fight not fair 
 To use her magic. 
 
 Raimond. Sorceress ! Villain word. 
 
 But ah ! they have not seen the face of her. 
 
 D'Aulon. Nay, but they have, and near. She 
 stood to speak 
 At the Fair Cross where ends the broken bridge : 
 Glassidas mounted the Tourelles and mocked ; 
 Bade her go mind her cows, and called her — Faugh, 
 God pardon that I came so near to say it. 
 
 Raimond. Is Glassidas his name ? 
 
 D'Aulon. Why no, but near 
 
 As you can frame it on a civil tongue. 
 
 Raimond. Glassidas: Glassidas. Heaven send 
 we meet ! 
 
scene iv JOAN THE MAID 43 
 
 D'Aulon. Heaven send you elsewhere. He's a 
 brawny knight, 
 Ten summer stouter than your sapling arm. 
 Nay, colour not so hotly. Where's the shame ? 
 I am older in the wars, and spoke but sense. 
 
 Raimond. 'Tis anger, if I blushed. But shame 
 there is 
 To put a shame upon her. Sorceress ! ha ! 
 To see, and yet defame her ! 
 
 D'Aulon. Be content. 
 
 Their lie will serve our turn, so scares it them, 
 And robs their hearts of pith. But I must hence : 
 And, being of her escort, you may learn 
 From Pasquerel where we lodge. {Exit.) 
 
 Raimond. Good Father, why 
 
 Stayed you without ? 
 
 Pasquerel. She bade me wait for you. 
 
 Raimond. She! But none told her I should 
 come. 
 
 Pasquerel. She bade 
 
 Await you by the church and bring you home. 
 I know but this. 
 
 Raimond. Strange. . . . And it pleases her 
 
 To have me of her train ? 
 
 Pasquerel. 'Tis ordered so : 
 
 And you are very welcome, as I think. 
 
 Raimond. Ah ! . . . And why think you that ? 
 
44 JOAN THE MAID act i 
 
 Pasquerel. A child can know 
 
 What likes her or mislikes, so frank is she. 
 
 Raimond. Said she not aught ? 
 
 Pasquerel. No more than I have told. 
 
 But she can tell you all she will : they come. 
 
 Priests come from the church, chanting 
 
 Lord, that with the viewless blow 
 Quellest fury of the foe 
 And the arrows of their bow, 
 
 Thou to battle gird us. 
 Lo ! the armour of their trust 
 And the sword of them as rust, 
 And their boasting in the dust 
 
 Break. The Lord hath heard us. 
 
 Joan {seeing Raimond, who approaches and salutes 
 her). Ah ! true Sir Raimond, you are wel- 
 come here. 
 Now are we mustered all : how glad am I ! 
 I knew they could not keep you. 
 
 Raimond. Maid, the King — 
 
 Joan. Nay, could I doubt it? See, 'tis our 
 Lorraine, 
 Maiden and man, in arms at last. O how, 
 Old comrade, could I battle till you came ? 
 But now — {to her train) — sirs, welcome you this 
 gentleman 
 
scene iv JOAN THE MAID 45 
 
 As of our band, and bring him where to rest : 
 I know he has ridden apace. (To Raimond, who 
 begins to speak) Nay, tell me not. 
 (Exeunt Raimond and all but Pasquerel.) 
 Kind Father, wait a little yet : I'll talk 
 Three minutes with the children. 
 
 (Goes to a group of children on steps of church?) 
 
 Sweet my friends, 
 You were not kneeling at my side to-day. 
 What hindered you to follow ? 
 
 Rose. I would come, 
 
 But Lilien daunted us. 
 
 Joan. How did she that ? 
 
 Lilien. It were too bold in us. 
 
 Joan. You thought not so 
 
 Fore-yesterday, at Vespers. 
 
 Lilien. Then you took 
 
 My hand, and made me come along with you. 
 But now — 
 
 Joan. Well, now? 
 
 Lilien. You are so grand, and we — 
 
 Joan. Out on you ! Will you wrong me, child, 
 because 
 I cannot go to war without a horse ? 
 I am your sister of the cottage roof ; 
 And, little sister, I, would rather sit 
 And sew with you, or drive the kine with you, 
 
46 JOAN THE MAID act i 
 
 Than ride the tallest horse in all the world, 
 And live among the dreadful wars. Alas, 
 I am myself a child to those strong men, 
 Yet cannot be with children, save at prayer. 
 You will not grudge me that much. 
 
 Rose. O no, no. 
 
 We'll come to-morrow again and every day. 
 We all do love you. 
 
 Joan. Kiss and part, my rose. 
 
 You too, sweet rose-bud (to younger child). I must go 
 
 to rest 
 Like any child, at noon, so tired am I. 
 There'll be another ride ere night (who knows ?) 
 For stout Rolande and me. What, wilt not part, 
 Rose-bud ? Then, Father, she must guard us home. 
 {Exeunt Joan and Pasquerel with the 
 children.) 
 
 SCENE V. — Afternoon of the same Day. Room 
 on Upper Floor of Madame Boucher's 
 House in Orleans. 
 
 Louis fitting out a helmet. Enter Marguerite behind 
 him, and watches him. 
 
 Louis. There now, but that goes bravely ! Tho' 
 the plume 
 
scene v JOAN THE MAID 47 
 
 Should have been fuller* Yet the golden skein 
 Sets it right well. . . . There'll be no boys, I doubt, 
 With Talbot yonder. Still, 'tis knightly work 
 Guarding the banner, if she grudge me not. 
 O 'tis a bonny helmet ! 
 
 Marguerite. And I fear 
 
 Will give your honour headache. 
 
 Louis. Marguerite ! You ! 
 
 Marguerite. Strange: is it not? And in my 
 
 kinsman's house. 
 Louis. No; but how came you in? I heard 
 
 you not. 
 Marguerite. Great sir, your pardon then if / 
 heard you ; 
 Your worship was so rapt upon your gear. 
 
 Louis. Well, what care I? A bonny helm, I 
 
 say. 
 Marguerite. And bonnily befits — O ho! but 
 what? 
 How comes this silken skein about the crest ? 
 Louis. It is her favour. 
 
 Marguerite. Hear him, rare my knight ! 
 
 Is fifteen span or something more, and wears 
 His lady's favour o' casque ! But tell not me : 
 Or I'll give out I saw you pillage for it 
 Your hostess' aumry. Fie, the vanity ! 
 
 Louis. O madam, you are mighty pleasant, you. 
 
48 JOAN THE MAID act i 
 
 But ask herself. Even now she gave it me, 
 
 Because I begged to wear her cognisance. 
 
 'Tis the self silk that the loomwomen wove 
 
 Into the standard's blazon : this was over ; 
 
 And this she chose, ' For you are sworn,' quoth she, 
 
 ' Knight of the Banner of France.' How say you now ? 
 
 Marguerite. A toy, a toy. What cares she for 
 a child ? 
 Favour ! I have more her favour than yourself. 
 
 Louis. Ah, so ? How see you that ? 
 
 Marguerite. Why thus I see it : 
 
 No sooner come, she took me by the hands, 
 Looked in mine eyes, then kissed on either cheek, 
 ' First, for you are my hostess kind,' she said, 
 ' And next, for you were christened Marguerite.' 
 You kissed she never : no, on neither cheek. 
 
 Louis. Ah ! but how know you that ? 
 
 Marguerite. The innocent ! 
 
 He hide the greatness ! Why, were Louis dumb, 
 It would be blazoned on his cheek a month, 
 And every curl would blab it. 
 
 Louis. Witty again. 
 
 But still your favour counts not. You are girl : 
 While I am — 
 
 Marguerite. Boy. I'll say it for you, — Boy, 
 That would say ' man ' and dared not. 
 
 Louis. There, have done. 
 
scene v JOAN THE MAID 49 
 
 For ever fleering at my fourteen years, 
 Till I am sick. And you have missed the tale. 
 Marguerite. What tale ? 
 Louis. The words she spoke in granting it. 
 
 You'd give her one kiss back to hear it told. 
 
 Marguerite. I love her every word. Come tell 
 me this. {Sits down by him.) 
 
 Louis. Not I. Besides, what cares she for a 
 child? 
 What says she, worth your hearing, to a boy ? 
 
 Marguerite. Nay, then, dear Louis, I repent 
 me : see. {Kneels to him.) 
 
 Your pardon that I so torment you. Yet 
 Should I have- teased you save I loved you well ? 
 Louis. Then will you call me ' child ' again ? 
 Marguerite. O never ! 
 
 I'll say you are a gallant gentleman, 
 That will be older, please the Saints you live, 
 And two spans longer — There again ! Forgive. 
 
 Louis. Well then, this once. But sit we close, 
 speak low. 
 Behind yon door is she laid down to sleep, 
 And, Marguerite, this is but for me and you. 
 
 Marguerite. Yes, yes. When did you ever 
 
 know me prate ? 
 Louis. I have only known you, Marguerite, these 
 four days. 
 
 E 
 
So JOAN THE MAID act i 
 
 Well, when she brought it out, ' My son,' she said 
 
 (Calling me thus, though scarce your age is she), 
 
 ' You cannot wear a cognisance of mine 
 
 And be my knight, for there can never be 
 
 A knight of mine : ' (now pray you, wherefore that ? ) 
 
 ' But, Louis, be content ; for you shall be 
 
 The Standard's Knight, and that is Knight of France 
 
 And of the Holy Will. So take for yours 
 
 A cognisance of the Banner, golden thread 
 
 That wove the- blessed sign we conquer by, 
 
 To bind your heart up -with the thing you guard. 
 
 And, Louis ' (here she all but whispered it), 
 
 ' You have so many years to fight for France : 
 
 My time is short. But you, when I am spent, 
 
 Wear you this favour still, but near your heart, 
 
 Secret, and pray for her who gave it you, 
 
 And war for France for whom she gave it you.' 
 
 Thereat she turned away, but I am sure 
 
 She wept, as I, God wot, was nigh to weep. 
 
 There, Marguerite : is my favour worth your two ? 
 
 Marguerite. I fear me, by the envy that I feel. 
 'Twas sweet and passing sweet. But then, ' My time 
 Is short.' What means she by 'My time is short'? 
 
 Louis. Well, is it natural for a maid to fight ? 
 She cannot do it long. She'll fight, I think, 
 And drive the English, crown the King, and then — 
 
 Marguerite. Ah ! yes ; what then ? 
 
scene v JOAN THE MAID 51 
 
 Louis. Why then — 
 
 Joan {from the inner chamber). Ho ! there, 
 
 without. 
 Louis. Whew ! She has waked. Alack, and she 
 so tired ! 
 Now, Marguerite, was it I that — ? Madam, here. 
 Joan (entering). Ay, here : and, wicked boy, how 
 
 could you do it ? 
 Louis. I am vexed of your awaking. 
 Joan. There's the shame. 
 
 Blood of our France a-spilling, heartless one, 
 And not to wake me, you ! 
 
 Louis. Lord save us, Maid ! 
 
 Why — how — what — 
 
 Joan. Prating, while the Frenchmen bleed ! 
 
 Quick as you may, run, bring me round the horse, 
 Saddled ; and this time, mark me, nought forgot. 
 Off! (Exit Louis) And, dear Marguerite, help me 
 
 close my mail. 
 There, so it clasps, — nay, so. Ah ! quick, be quick. 
 'Tis Louis' work, but he must bit Rolande. 
 Heaven prosper him ! The luckless child would lose 
 The eyes out of his head and hardly miss. 
 Ah ! yes, good mother (to Madame Boucher, enter- 
 ing), help us. Pray you brace 
 The sword-belt. O dear sword (kissing it), to-day, 
 to-day, 
 
52 JOAN THE MAID act i 
 
 You shall not do the deed, but you shall see it. 
 O me, how tarries Louis with Rolande. 
 
 Madame Boucher. Dear heart, what heat is this ? 
 There came no word 
 To make you arm. 
 
 Joan. No word ! My Council sent 
 
 Word of a fight this moment. 
 
 Madame Boucher. Ay, and where ? 
 
 Joan. That is it I'd give my second horse to know. 
 'Tis haply Fastolfe's succours marching on us, 
 Or else their forts are stirring. 
 
 Madame Boucher. Ope me there 
 
 A lattice, Marguerite. Yes, be sure, a shout. 
 Joan. O where, then ? 
 
 Madame Boucher. From the gate of Burgundy. 
 Joan. It is St. Loup. Away, away ! 
 
 {Runs out and down the stairs.) 
 Madame Boucher. O child, 
 
 She goes to death. Run to her, bid her wait. 
 
 Marguerite. I dare not that. O shield her, 
 
 tender God ! 
 Joan (without). Stand ho ! Rolande. Wilt 
 
 make me tarry, thou ? 
 Marguerite (looking out of window). Ah ! she 
 is gone. . . . Nay, what ? She turns again. 
 Joan (without). The Banner ! 'Tis I, my Louis, 
 'tis I forget ; 
 
scene v JOAN THE MAID 53 
 
 I'll never blame you more. Run, bring it down. 
 No, reach it to me from the window. 
 
 Soft, 
 Good horse, less speed were ours without it : so. 
 Friend, could you start with me and this forgot ? 
 
 Louis enters the room, finds the banner, and reaches 
 it through the window to Joan 
 
 1 
 Thanks, Louis, I have it. Dear my friends, farewell 
 
 Marguerite (to Louis). Boy, art thou mazed? 
 
 To horse and after her. {Exit Louis.) 
 
 Madame Boucher. Child, 
 
 Keep eye upon her : mine's aswim for fear. 
 
 Marguerite. Hey ! but she rides it hotly. Hold 
 
 your feet, 
 
 Rolande, upon the flints. To see the sparks 
 
 Fly from him ! There : she's gone. Heaven bring 
 
 her back ! 
 
 Madame Boucher. Ay, for the wonderfullest 
 
 soul alive, 
 
 And sweetest too. Come get we to the church, 
 
 And pray. 'Tis all we other women can. {Exeunt.) 
 
54 JOAN THE MAID act i 
 
 SCENE VI. — Before the Tourelles. A Fort 
 
 OF THE ENPLISH AT THEIR END OF THE BRIDGE 
 
 The point of dawn. D'Aulon with French soldiers 
 lying under a bank, over which the Tourelles are 
 seen at a short distance. 
 
 Jacques. Is she not coming, sir ? There's blink 
 
 of dawn. 
 D'Aulon. Patience, good fellows, would she fail 
 
 the tryst ? 
 Jacques. But I'd have at them while the cold's 
 
 about, 
 And they be numb with sleeping. 
 
 D'Aulon. Look, she comes. 
 
 Enter Raimond and Louis 
 
 You, sirs, and not the Maid ! 
 
 Raimond. We come to learn 
 
 If all be here. .She prays till battle-brink, 
 A field-breadth off, with Pasquerel, in the trees. 
 
 D'Aulon. We'll need her prayer— five hundred, 
 spear and bow, 
 Atop of yonder tower ; stark fighters all ; 
 How else ? with neck in noose, no doorway out. 
 
scene vi JOAN THE MAID 55 
 
 They did not think to see French faces, sir, 
 This side their bridge-head. 
 
 Louis. Is it true she said 
 
 She would be hurt to-day ? 
 
 D'Aulon. Why, boy, she said it. 
 
 Ah ! yes : to-day. God send she did but dream, 
 Like other women. 
 
 Scot (rising). Sir, with reverence, 
 There's other sight than eyesight. If she saw, 
 'Twill be. 
 
 D'Aulon. Yet cover her, bowman, all you may, 
 When she sets ladder. 
 
 Scot. Troth, all we may, sir. 
 
 One's yonder steers all arrows, to or fro. 
 Yet he that hits her — (goes up stage). 
 
 Raimond. Honest heart ! Would go 
 
 World over to pay back the man his bolt. 
 
 D'Aulon. Time is one go to warn the Maid. 
 Dunois 
 Has signalled on the right. 
 
 Raimond. Go, Louis, then. 
 
 (Exit Louis.) 
 Mayst hear those aspens pattering where she waits. 
 
 D'Aulon. The breeze of daybreak. 
 
 Raimond. Ay. Didst hear it said, 
 
 Her voice comes clearest when the woods are blown ? 
 Ah ! to know now what saith it ! 
 
56 JOAN THE MAID act i 
 
 D'Aulon. Who was he — 
 
 Some saint, but was a fighter — and he kept 
 His men from onset till he heard the wind 
 Make sound of going in the tree-top — Hist ! 
 Stand to your arms. She comes. (Aside) How 
 
 beautiful 
 This tender, white girl-wonder foots the brink 
 Of murder's hellish uproar. Hark, she speaks. 
 
 (Joan appears, mounted. She beckons the 
 men.) 
 Joan. Countrymen, in God's name I lead you. 
 Twice 
 The Maid has led : and God has spoken twice. 
 Soldiers, we drove them on Ascension eve : 
 We drove them from St. Laurent yesterday : 
 And we will drive them from the bridge to-day. 
 Follow me once again, and France is free. 
 
 Soldiers. France and the Maid, France and the 
 Maid ! Lead on. 
 
 (She dismounts and comes forward.) 
 Joan. Yea, will I lead. With sword I may not 
 strike, 
 Yet strike I will the first blow on their wall. 
 Give me the ladder. (They bring it.) 
 
 Friends, the boy that climbs 
 Quicker than I to rob yon orchard-close, 
 Will be the nimblest here. (Applause ^Soldiers.) 
 
scene vi JOAN THE MAID 57 
 
 My loving Louis, 
 I cannot risk you yet. Take you Rolande, 
 And see you keep him from their arrow flight 
 Safe in the fence of vineyard : mark me, safe. 
 How else shall I ride home across the bridge, 
 A Godon Captain at his bridle-rein ? 
 Louis. Nay, Maid, beseech you — 
 Joan. Boy, the word is said. 
 
 Be knight-like and obey. (Louis kisses her hand.) 
 
 You, Raimond, guard 
 My banner's bearer. (To the bearer) Shake the 
 
 folds aloft : 
 High : raise it higher. (The sun rises and catches it.) 
 
 Christ, the beam of day 
 Has lit of all things first our sign that saves. 
 We conquer, ho ! we conquer. D'Aulon, bid 
 Our onset trumpet answer it. . . . On, set on : 
 Follow me. God for France and France for God ! 
 
 (Trumpet. Discharge of ordnance, and 
 shouting. Joan, followed by soldiers, 
 goes up the bank and over it towards 
 the Tourelles.) 
 
58 JOAN THE MAID act I 
 
 SCENE VII. — A Meadow near the Tourelles 
 
 Distant shouting and alarums. Joan is carried in 
 wounded, an arrow sticking in her shoulder, 
 by Raimond, Jacques, the Scot, and Louis. 
 Minstrel follows. 
 
 Joan. Ah ! gently ; pray you, gentlier. Every 
 step 
 The arrow stabs. O I am sore ashamed 
 Because I cannot hold my tears. Alack, 
 I prove but an ill soldier. 
 
 Raimond. Maid, we all 
 
 Vow you a miracle of constancy, 
 Even as of utter daring. 
 
 Joan. Ah ! no, no. 
 
 I am all groans and frailty, being hurt. 
 
 Jacques. Why, madam, you do well, I warrant it, 
 To let the tears run. It's a helping way. 
 When I was hurt, good lack ! I lay and cursed 
 The man that hit me (but I make too bold, 
 Seeing you never let poor soldiers swear). 
 How so, it eased me wondrous. And I say, 
 What cursing is to men be tears to maids. 
 
 Raimond. Peace, Jacques : too free. 
 
 Joan. No, let him talk, brave heart. 
 
scene vii JOAN THE MAID 59 
 
 He fenced me with his body bearing me. 
 . . . But, oh ! to draw this arrow . . . , 
 
 Raimond. There's no leech 
 
 Afield. I would I had the craft of it. 
 
 Scot. Sir, it is best the lady pull it herself: 
 'Tis safest. Here be oil and bandage. 
 
 Jacques. Hold ! 
 
 How ye be ignorant all, then ! Draw the point 
 Before ye've charmed . the wound ! Why, lack-a- 
 
 day, 
 Wouldst be her death by bleeding? And, by 
 
 grace, 
 There's the mad singer dawdling after us, 
 Whate'er he risk his bones for. He's the sort 
 That charm the fastest. Say you, fellow there, 
 Put your crazed wits to purpose : sing's a rhyme 
 That's good for blood-flow. 
 
 Joan. No, dear God, not that. 
 
 Let them not, Raimond. I would rather die 
 Than salve it with a charm — a devil's aid. 
 
 Jacques. Now say not. Master Rhymer, tell 
 her you 
 How charms be sovereign for a bursten vein. 
 What, man. Dost shake thy head ? 
 
 Minstrel. The arrow, the arrow. 
 
 The Maid hath power of the arrow (said I not ?), 
 She is too holy to work charms upon. 
 
60 JOAN THE MAID act i 
 
 Jacques. Then, ods my life ! it's France will 
 bleed to death. 
 You, sir {to Raimond), persuade her. 
 
 Joan. No, that shall ye not. 
 
 I will not use it, though I died for lack. 
 Good Louis, bring the Father) if you may, 
 To hear my shrift. (Louis goes.) And raise me, 
 
 Raimond: so. 
 Now will I venture. Stay me, Jesu, stay : 
 For O to perish, with the deed undone. 
 Suffer it not : for I will venture. ... Ah ! 
 
 {Draws the arrow.) 
 
 Help, for I swoon. . . . {Falls back, supported by 
 
 Raimond and Minstrel, who tend the wound.) 
 
 Jacques {who picks up the arrow and takes the 
 
 Scot aside). Didst mark the Godon, Scot, 
 
 that sent her this ? 
 
 Scot. Ay. 
 
 Jacques. And couldst know him presently ? 
 Scot. Ay. 
 
 Jacques. And how ? 
 
 Scot. Yon with the slitten cheek, my mark 
 belike, 
 At — how ye call it ? — at the Herring-Fight 
 We made good shooting, till the centre ran. 
 I'll clap the next one half-a-handbreadth more 
 Within the gold. 
 
scene vn JOAN THE MAID 61 
 
 Jacques. So shall ye. Look ye now. 
 
 {Shows the arrow.) 
 Here's blood enough upon it. Touch your points — 
 Quick, for it dries so fast — and feathers too. 
 A certain charm to find the smiter. 
 
 Scot. Man, 
 
 Have blood enough o' my own, and fierce enough 
 To find the smiter. Let thy charms alone. 
 Besides, how can ye charm with blood so pure ? 
 Nay, Jacques, I'll none but honest bowcraft. Back 
 Both of us to the battle. Where's the use 
 To bide ? She's tended well. 
 
 Jacques. Have with you, Scot. 
 
 (They are going.) 
 
 Joan. Jacques. 
 
 Jacques. At your pleasure. 
 
 Joan. I have work for thee, 
 
 When I am back again. 
 
 Jacques. Command me, Maid. 
 
 (Aside) If I get through to-day — and she : for how 
 She pales ! Well, God-a-mercy — 
 
 To Pasquerel, entering 
 
 Save you, sir : 
 You're welcome yonder. (Exit.) 
 
 Pasquerel. Woe is me, dear child, 
 
 To see you thus. 
 
62 JOAN THE MAID ACT I 
 
 Joan. Nay, now : the worst is o'er. 
 
 I am all peace : I think I shall not die. 
 Yet, sweet my Father, pray for me awhile. 
 But, first, how do they yonder ? 
 
 Pasquerel. There's a pause. 
 
 They'd breathe the men, I think, and to it again. 
 
 Joan. Dear Jesu, give them heart to bear it out ! 
 I should be back, Father, I should be back. 
 
 Pasquerel. Nay, daughter, nay: not thus. It 
 cannot be. 
 Better you healed than twenty thousand men 
 And half a year of fighting. Think not of it. 
 Think of your soul. 
 
 Joan. So will I, yet I know 
 
 God does not ask it of me yet. O see, 
 Dunois. 
 
 Enter Dunois 
 
 How fare we ? 
 Dunois. Well — or well enough. 
 
 Maid, I am sad for this. How fares the hurt ? 
 
 Joan. Bravely. But ask not. Said you 'well 
 enough ' ? 
 But that is not well. Stormed ye yet again ? 
 
 Dunois. Once : twice. They piked us from the 
 copingstone 
 That last — so near we came. But Glassidas, he, 
 
scene vii JOAN THE MAID 63 
 
 Roaring to dumb the mortal clamour, ran, 
 Caught by the wrist one, by the beard one, hurled 
 Wide of the rampart, swept three ladderheads up 
 On to his big breast in a sheaf, and tossed 
 Like sheaf from waggon to the fortalice foot. 
 "Never I saw such fighting, even in them. 
 Truth, they are half a thousand boars at bay : 
 And my poor dogs lie mangled many a one, 
 And all are faint with harry. Let it be. 
 We'll win the top to-morrow. 
 
 Joan. No. To-night. 
 
 Dunois. Why, Joan, you know not. We are 
 spent, I say ; 
 While they are strangely couraged at your fall, 
 And stiff as ere you countered them. 
 
 Joan. And I 
 
 Say, we shall climb to the Tourelles to-night. 
 Are they so couraged at my fall ? O then 
 How will they quail again to see me risen. 
 For rise I will and back to it. {Sits up.) 
 
 Raimond. Have a heed, 
 
 Maid, lest you start the blood. 
 
 Dunois. And, noble Maid, 
 
 Be not so absolute and sore in haste. 
 Yours am I for all service of our war : 
 Yet, even with you, must I make war by times, 
 Chances, and means : I tell you, they are spent, 
 
64 JOAN THE MAID act i 
 
 Fitter for sleep than fighting ; arm and leg 
 Sleep of themselves for toil. It cannot be. 
 
 Joan. And I tell you, it can be and it shall. 
 Sir, we will never quarrel, you and I. 
 Wise are you, wise almost as valorous : 
 But there's a wisdom, too, of babes, a wit 
 Shrewder than all you captains of the war, 
 That ponders not, but only hears and does. 
 And it is spoken in my heart that God 
 Will free fair Orleans, and to-day. But come, 
 Are your good fellows weary ? Let them sleep : 
 Two hours or three. You too. The captain's head 
 Is wearier than any fighter's limb. 
 That made you doubt. But eat and sleep and rise. 
 I lead you home, and by the bridge, to-night. 
 
 Dunois. I cannot tell why I obey you so, 
 But I am somehow borne beyond myself 
 When Joan is speaking, and I trample then 
 My own good wisdom down, and joy to do it : 
 And joy to hazard all of mine, and all 
 The weight of France, to ride the breathless leap 
 Upon your glorious folly. Have your way, 
 Though all we die for it. 
 
 Joan. Ye shall not die. 
 
 Yet must ye feed and sleep before we win. 
 
scene vm JOAN THE MAID 65 
 
 SCENE VIII. — On the Ramparts of the English 
 Fort at the Bridge-Head 
 
 English soldiers (Dakyn, Thorpe, Allerby, 
 and Randal) sitting. Glansdale, the Cap- 
 tain enters. 
 
 Glansdale. Rest ye now, lads : that was the 
 hottest. Take a bite and drink to wipe your eyes 
 clean, and make better shooting next time. {Goes off) 
 
 Dakyn. Ay, mates, here's a sup in comfort at 
 last. They'll not be knocking at our door again yet 
 a while : we slammed it a bit too sharply on their 
 noses that last time. 
 
 Thorpe. 'Swounds ! they pushed smartly : got 
 one foot, as a man may say, 'twixt door and door-post 
 A shrewd pinch, comrades. 
 
 Dakyn. It's they got it, then, for the door went 
 to on 'em. 
 
 Allerby. Here's to Glansdale that shut it. The 
 company was grown something unhandy till he shook 
 our wits together. What a voice 'a has. It is two 
 parts in seven of a fighting man. 
 
 Randal. Lord ! when he roared at seeing their 
 chins over the top, seemed me as it tore the tower up 
 by the roots, and shook 'em off, and dumped it down 
 on 'em. 
 
 F 
 
66 JOAN THE MAID act i 
 
 Dakyn. Wast a bit giddy perhaps, boy, with 
 staring over doom-pit's edge. Beest young at it. 
 Take another cup to settle thy stomach. We'll never 
 look over it so near again. 
 
 Thorpe. No, they'll be easier driving now she's 
 away; more thanks to Brown Robin that made the 
 hole in her. Why could none of us do it sooner ? 
 
 Allerby. She has done a charm on the bow- 
 strings ; they won't carry as they did. But we are all 
 out of gear together for fighting ever since she came 
 among them. It will be the tune of 'George and 
 Merry England ' again, now the devil has got his own. 
 
 Thorpe. Has he? I wish mad Geoffrey had 
 been beforehand with him, when he shinned down 
 the rope to grip her. The madcap truly! How 
 should he bring her in up the wall, saving she was 
 minded to fly ? 
 
 Dakyn. Tut ! Mad Geoff was sane that once j - 
 he did not play that for nothing. Had he brought 
 her in, he'd have died esquire, with two hundred 
 crowns to his rent-roll. Lord ! 'twould have made a 
 merry burning. 
 
 Allerby. She'll burn somewhere else fast enough, 
 with Robin's cloth-yard so far through her. A merry 
 life and a short has a witch. 
 
 Randal. How know we she is witch? She is 
 pleasant-favoured enough. 
 
scene vin JOAN THE MAID 67 
 
 Allkrby. Think'st the devil has no eyes ? 
 
 Randal. What's that to it ? 
 
 Allerby. Why, be not witches the devil's 
 wenches? Then will Satan, like his neighbours, 
 choose a wench by her looks. 
 
 Thorpe. Then, Tom, if the devil have eyes, he 
 mostly doesn't use them. For what say you to old 
 Kate o' the Beard for looks — her that we burnt at 
 Upton Cross ? 
 
 Allerby. There's a puzzle, out of doubt. Belike 
 he took her for the beauty of her soul, as parson has 
 it, by the rule of contrary. 
 
 Randal. Mates, laugh at me if you will, but yon 
 girl's black hair made me think of a lass in Kent I 
 know of. 
 
 Dakyn. Beest a soft-heart, lad. But your lass 
 won't lie awake to-night for jealousy. She yonder is 
 sped by now. So one cup more for 
 
 Thorpe. Ugh ! 
 
 Dakyn. What mak'st faces at ? 
 
 Thorpe. Look ! {points to French post). 
 
 Dakyn. Hell and — ! she's back, and on her feet 
 too! 
 
 Allerby. Art sure ? 
 
 Dakyn. It were worth twenty crown to us that 
 I were drunk and seeing crooked. But she's there. 
 
 Allerby. Then are we lost sinners all of us. If 
 
68 JOAN THE MAID act i 
 
 she wriggled.off Rob's skewer sound, she's no devil's 
 wench, but the very devil's own mortal self.- 
 
 Dakyn. Devil have you, Tom, for talking that 
 way to shake the youngsters. Buckle on your wrist- 
 guard, and don't be a fool. Hasn't arrows a plenty 
 still? If she come again we'll feather her all over, 
 till the witch takes to flying willy-nilly. To your 
 posts, all of you. {Aside) Now would I give the 
 five-acre to be back on my farm. 
 
 SCENE IX. — A French Post near the Tourelles. 
 Part of the Bridge is visible 
 
 Groups of soldiers resting. Joan enters 
 
 Jacques (rising). The Maid ! A welcome, com- 
 rades, to the Maid ! 
 Soldiers. Life to the Maid ! Long live the weal 
 
 of France ! 
 Joan. Friends, have ye slept a se'nnight since I 
 went, 
 To make you look so freshly ? Ye shall sleep 
 Another se'nnight presently, if ye will ; 
 For we'll go home to it on the foeman's bridge. 
 Jacques. We've half a year of slumber in the 
 head, 
 
scene ix JOAN THE MAID 69 
 
 But we'll not wink an eye if feats there be 
 To please the Maid. 
 
 Joan. Why, Jacques, a feat there is 
 
 All for yourself. 
 
 Jacques. My life on it, 'tis done. 
 
 Joan. Your life is on it. Take my banner you, 
 For he that bore is lamed, and he that bears 
 Will need go far this even. When we storm, 
 Keep with the foremost at the fosse-edge, plant 
 The banner nighest to the wall, and watch 
 Until the good wind bear it: If it touch, 
 We have them. 
 
 Jacques. Maid, if bones of mine will hold 
 
 So long together, I'll do it. 
 
 Joan. Keep you Heaven ! 
 
 Here's Father Pasquerel ; let him shrive you first, 
 And who else fights unshriven. (To the Cannoneer) 
 
 Master Jean, 
 You make good shooting, but you time it ill. 
 Jean. Then thou amend old Jean. 
 Joan. Why thus it is. 
 
 Let loose your volley when we sound the rush ; 
 Then hold : but, when the ladders grip the wall, 
 Lay old Astounder's muzzle on the hole 
 That gaps their ramp (they set their stoutest there), 
 And, first foot upon rungs, touch tinder. O 
 To think I send poor souls before their God 
 
70 JOAN THE MAID act i 
 
 Shriftless and in their heat ! Not mine the blame : 
 So oft I warned them hence. 
 
 Jean. And soothly, Maid, 
 
 They met your courtesy most uncourteous-wise. 
 But, howsoe'er, it's kill or else be killed 
 In war-time, so I'll lay Astounder true. 
 Let them not climb too fast though, for at whiles 
 She's slow of speech and stammers. 
 
 Joan. See you keep 
 
 The drier priming. 
 
 Enter the Marshals 
 
 Ah ! La Hire, Dunois, 
 Xaintrailles, ye need me. (They go apart.) What 
 has fallen new ? 
 Dunois. Maid, I was idle-bold, and I repent. 
 We cannot hazard it to-night : the dark 
 Would catch us ere we end it. 
 
 Xaintrailles. Were the men 
 
 Fresh out of stall, yet are we scant of force. 
 There's no way in except by storm on storm 
 With new and new, to wear the tough dogs out. 
 La Hire. I am not qualmish ; I can see blood 
 flow. 
 But, Heavens ! to see my sturdy fellows mauled, 
 And all for nothing — Look, in honour of you, 
 
scene ix JOAN THE MAID 71 
 
 I've loosed not one good curse a fortnight long, 
 But only fancy oaths and fooleries — . Maid, 
 I could not look on that and hold me in. 
 
 Dunois. La Hire is chafed and blunt : forgive 
 him it. 
 But, truth, we have not time or means to fight. 
 
 Joan. I see ye have been in council. So have I. 
 And yours has reasoned well. So has not mine. 
 My Council reason not ; they know, they bid, 
 Being holy. ... In God's name, set on to-night. 
 
 Dunois. How shall I say it ? I am chief in trust 
 Of the King's army. If I wreck it here 
 From faith in you, that clears not : I am shamed. 
 Small matter. But yourself — . For mark what hangs. 
 Let them but win one fight of us, and straight 
 Our new-wrought spell of prowess crumbles back : 
 All's to begin, and with twice-broken hearts. 
 Now dare ye take on you the burden ? 
 
 Joan (after a moment's pause). Sirs, 
 
 Ye urge me very sore, and wise are ye ; 
 But yet I am not daunted : only now 
 While you are talking something clouds my mind, 
 Like wind that ruffles up a glassing pool. 
 I shall see clearly, were I once alone. 
 I do not think to change : yet suffer me 
 One short half-quarter of an hour apart 
 In yonder applegarth. 
 
72 JOAN THE MAID ACT I 
 
 Dunois. So be it, Maid. 
 
 (Joan goes.) 
 The Minstrel sings 
 
 From the noise of archers in the place of drawing 
 water, 
 From the lightnings of the quiver, 
 From the bitter leaguer and the hunger and the 
 slaughter, 
 Is there helper, is there any, 
 Is there any can deliver ? 
 
 Nay, is none. 
 Be the sons of France so few, 
 Be her men too weak to do, 
 Be the lords of her untrue ? 
 No, their ranks are stout enow : 
 No, their sword is sharp, I trow : 
 O but God, who mad'st them many, 
 Make them one ! 
 
 Who is this alighted from the skirts of skyland hither, 
 
 All in sunlight for an armour, 
 White dove wings a-hover in the banner blowing with 
 her: 
 And aneath her, blunted wholly, 
 Lies the arrow that would harm her, 
 
 Undertrod ? 
 O by sign of snows and fire, 
 
scene ix JOAN THE MAID 73 
 
 O by whispers that aspire 
 Of a heaven-wind stooping nigher, 
 Follow, France, the banner's breath, 
 Follow down the pass of death, 
 France, the dove-flight of the holy 
 Maid of God. 
 
 Joan re-enters 
 
 Minstrel. Behold ! 
 
 D'Aulon. Can this be war ? She comes so still. 
 
 Raimond. Her eye's all battle : she has seen 
 Them there. 
 
 Joan. Dunois, my Council met me in the trees. 
 Dunois, they bade us in the name of God 
 Set on, and conquer. 
 
 Dunois. Yea, He wills, He wills. 
 
 Heaven and the Maid for France ! 
 
 Joan. Array the storm. 
 
 This time I lead not. I am bidden abide 
 And overlook the fight, not mingle in it. 
 I will stand still and see what God will do. 
 
 There must be one beside me for a need : 
 Stay, Raimond. Father, go not back, for we 
 Must pray the more, not fighting. {To the Soldiers) 
 Soldiers all, 
 
74 JOAN THE MAID act i 
 
 Hearken. I send my banner to the fort, 
 Alone : but with it march the Holy Ones. 
 Fasten your eyes upon it. If it touch 
 Yon wall, we have them. 
 
 Soldiers shout. France and Holy Maid ! 
 
 Joan. One word, Dunois. (They talk.) 
 
 D'Aulon (to Jacques). Basque, dost thou keep 
 the flag? 
 
 Jacques. Yes, while I keep my hands, sir. 
 
 D'Aulon. Look on me. 
 
 When fights are won, they're won by two or three, 
 Not many. Here is one. Wilt be the other ? 
 
 Jacques. God and the Maid so help me. 
 
 D'Aulon. See, 'tis sworn. 
 
 When I leap in the ditch, come after you. 
 The banner shall touch wall. 
 
 Jacques. 'Tis sworn. Away. 
 
 (Exeunt with Dunois and Soldiers. 
 Joan, Raimond, and Pasquerel 
 remain?) 
 . Joan. Hence can we see them. 
 
 Raimond. Why so near ? Their shot 
 
 Can strike you. 
 
 Joan. If it come but hitherward. 
 
 It will not come. O Raimond, we shall win : 
 Shall win. . . . Why does La Hire so linger ? he 
 That is such hot-foot else. 
 
scene ix JOAN THE MAID 75 
 
 Raimond. He spreads his men 
 
 Better to lap their bastion. 
 
 Joan. We shall win. 
 
 They told me we shall win it. Raimond, friend, 
 Girl am I yet, as when you knew me first, 
 And dreadful is, this silence. Help me, Christ ! 
 I know we cannot fail. But O, to stand 
 Here on the shivering precipice edge and watch 
 The world swing under us. Help me, friend : your 
 
 hand, 
 Dear Raimond. . . . Ah ! the live and steady 
 
 clasp ! 
 A moment back I seemed a ghost : and now — 
 
 Raimond. Your hand is cold with travail of heart, 
 and yet 
 It sends a fire across me. Maid, I know, 
 I too, that we shall win. 
 
 Joan. O Lord, how long ? 
 
 Take you this other hand, sweet Father : take, — 
 Pray that Joan faint not. 
 
 Raimond {looking across river). That is strange, 
 I vow. 
 
 Pasquerel. What see you ? 
 
 Raimond. Musters on the townward side, 
 
 That thicken at the bridge-head — what to do ? 
 The bridge is gapped ; they cannot cross to 
 help. 
 
76 JOAN THE MAID act i 
 
 Pasquerel. They do but watch us. Mark the 
 Maid, how rapt. 
 She heeds not. 
 
 Joan. ' Voices, voices . . . heard we true ? 
 
 Voice in the woodland. . . . Nay, my heart, 'tis 
 so.' 
 Pasquerel. What does she murmur ? 
 Raimond. God ! 'twas this she sang 
 
 Once in the meadow. ' Voices.' Make them true, 
 O God of truth ; betray not. . . . Father, look : 
 A miracle ! they have flung a bridge in air, 
 And spanned yon arches. 'Tis a plank, no more. 
 Yet there goes one upon it. O brave foot, 
 
 Heaven steady it : and another (A bugle sounds.) 
 
 Joan, awake. 
 They peal the onset. 
 
 Joan. Loose me, loose. O sword, 
 
 (Plucks her hands away and holds her 
 sword before her by the blade.) 
 O Sword my Cross, be sword and cross to-day : 
 Smite them, deliver us. (Alarums.) Goes the banner 
 first? 
 Raimond. Ay, with a bolt stuck fast in't. Ah ! 
 he's hit. 
 'Tis nought : he plunges on : he's first at fosse. 
 
 Joan. They spake me truth : They will not fail me. 
 Raimond. See, 
 
scene ix JOAN THE MAID TJ 
 
 D'Aulon has leaped. O follow him, follow. . . . Alas, 
 Has it fallen ? 
 
 Joan. O my banner, God on high ! 
 
 My banner ! 
 
 Raimond. No, it rises. 'Twas the Basque 
 Sprang to the ditch. He rears and shakes it out. 
 
 Joan. Watch, watch ! O carry it, Wind of 
 God! 
 
 Raimond. It touched. . . . 
 
 Roar, France, and leap the rampart ! Up, up, up ! 
 They climb with wings, not ladders. 'Tis a flight 
 Of birds that swarm to a tree-top. . . . Roar again, 
 France ! we have swept them from the battlements : 
 There's not a foeman upright in the fence. 
 God, Thou hast heard her ! 
 
 Joan {to herself). They were true, were true. 
 
 Raimond {hastily). Hear me, while I can speak 
 it. There's an awe 
 Come on me .and a shame. I know thee now : 
 God's angel more than woman. Holy Maid, 
 If ever this unknowing heart that loves 
 Loved thee not as the thing thou art, forgive. 
 I kiss thy hand, fair angel : I am taught. 
 
 me unworthy ! 
 
 Joan. Raimond, what is this ? 
 
 1 can but half conceive you ; but I know 
 
 Your words are strange, and trouble the great joy. 
 
78 JOAN THE MAID act i 
 
 And, look, it is not done. There's fighting yet 
 Round the Tourelles, — how comes it ? — from the town. 
 Pasquerel. Saw you not how the townsmen cast 
 the plank, 
 To storm upon the counter-side ? And see, 
 There's Glassidas makes at them o'er the bridge, 
 — Lo ! where he stood to curse you — sword in air, 
 Rallying his last about him. 
 
 Joan {shouting to Glansdale). Madman, yield ! 
 Yield to the King of Heaven ! I pardon thee 
 That bitter malice. Save thy soul alive, 
 For God will ask it suddenly — (Bridge falls.) O 
 
 he's gone. 
 Our foes are fallen, are fallen : the floods go o'er, 
 The floods have swallowed him and swept away, 
 And all his evil on him. O I could weep 
 My heart out for the pity of souls of men, 
 That die so woeful swift. Pardon him yet, 
 Merciful Powers : he knew not what he said. 
 Run, Raimond, pluck some drowner from the stream 
 Ere the mail sink them : quick. What help need I ? 
 
 (Raimond runs off.) 
 My God is all around me like a host. 
 And where is the oppressor ? 
 
 Pasquerel. Maiden, turn : 
 
 Dunois would greet you. 
 
 Dunois (entering). Nay, no words have I. 
 
scene ix JOAN THE MAID ■ 79 
 
 My heart is liker fall in tears than words, 
 
 So charged with joy and wonder. France is saved, 
 
 And all the deed a woman's. 
 
 Joan. Say not so. 
 
 God saves by whom He will ; give glory there. 
 Now must we homeward, sir, across the bridge. 
 
 Dunois. Why, Maid, 'tis gone. 
 
 Joan. Yet by the bridge will I. 
 
 I promised and I'll do. The nimble wrights 
 That spanned an arch for battle, shall they not 
 Span it for triumph ? And I think, Dunois, 
 A' bridge of gossamer were enough to prop 
 The weight of marching France this happy night : 
 So light our heart is we could tread the air. 
 
 {They march off.) 
 
ACT II 
 
 SCENE I. — Garden before the Castle of 
 Loches 
 
 Enter Raimond, singing 
 
 Mortal born, and lovest a star, 
 
 White fire all to the heart thereof? 
 Stars are lone as heaven is wide, 
 How wilt win thee a star for bride ? 
 
 Sooth, my star 
 Is afar, too far. 
 Yet is it good to love. 
 
 Old singer of the Southland, knew you that ? 
 You rhymed it of a simple boy that loved 
 A star of court too princely throned for him. 
 Mine is not high, yet higher by all a heaven 
 Than any star of court, and sevenfold more 
 Not to be reached than these are, isled away 
 
scene I JOAN THE MAID 81 
 
 In virgin airs unbreathable of men. 
 
 Is Raimond fool to love the star ? a babe 
 
 Dancing a palm to pluck a brightness down, 
 
 That seems an armlength-sundered jewel, and is 
 
 Lamp of unsounded deeps ? O tell me not ! 
 
 I love and have not, yet to love is good. 
 
 And, good or ill, I can no otherwise. 
 
 But good it will be. Star in hopeless height, 
 
 I shall not climb the skies, but climb I shall 
 
 Nearer the skies by longing for the star, 
 
 So am I boldened and so winged by love. 
 
 Yea, all things else I covet one are grown 
 
 With her, are semblances and hues of her. 
 
 She's France to me and fame and golden deed, 
 
 And veiled Fair-fortune beckoning wooers on, 
 
 And all youth dreams or dares. But hush, my soul, 
 
 For how should love have voice that hath not hope ? 
 
 Enter Guy de Laval behind him 
 
 Guy. Aha ! my Raimond. Stolen away so far ? 
 'Twas churlish on a feast. Yet, if my ears 
 Are quick as otherwhiles, I read your hap. 
 There's a love-ditty making for some fair. 
 Ay, shake your blushful head : deny it. Yes, 
 'Tis so prescribed in books of gallantry. 
 Well, happy you that find her. As for me, 
 G 
 
82 JOAN THE MAID act ii 
 
 I am three months at court, and cannot find 
 Those beauties that were vaunted. Which is yours 
 I'll guess anon without one envious pang. 
 
 Raimond. You need no envy, Guy, for fair of 
 mine. 
 Guess on : you will not guess the riddle, friend, 
 That has no answer. 
 
 Guy. By and by. But now 
 
 Art thou not wearying till the war is up ? 
 
 Raimond. Know'st how it went this morn in 
 council ? 
 
 Guy. No. 
 
 Not well it went ; so cloudy is the Maid. 
 And yet her spleen becomes her. Raimond, lad, 
 I tremble for your fair Unnamed. 'Tis she 
 Has need of envy, seeing you so close 
 In favour of the wondrous Maiden. True, 
 She's not of us, nor yet for love at all, 
 Even were she gentle. Shame ; I bite my tongue 
 For mingling up her name with railleries. 
 She is a maid to worship, a thing apart, 
 Not gentle and not simple, but divine. 
 I thought her so, and Andre thought the like, 
 That time we met her, and she called for wine, 
 And pledged the day when we should drink with her 
 In Paris of the French. 'Twas solemn-sweet, 
 And like a sacring of the blessed Cup. 
 
scene i JOAN THE MAID 83 
 
 Yea, yea, divine is she. But who can tell ? 
 'Twere pity if this virgin chase from her 
 All the true hearts, and then, some altered day, 
 Fall back to the least worthy. See you, though, 
 Here's my great cousin coming, deep in talk 
 With Regnault and De Gaucourt. Let's avoid. 
 
 (They retire?) 
 
 Enter Tremouiixe, Regnault, De Gaucourt 
 
 Tremouille. Something too soon you yielded at 
 
 the board, 
 Regnault. You churchmen hearts (all honour !) 
 
 keep 
 Such welcome for what pleads in name of Heaven. 
 I call our mystic girl Heaven's gift, and yet 
 A gift to use, not squander. Follow her on 
 In too fantastic venture, and you break, 
 Like the fool-heir who cracked his charmed glass, 
 Our talisman of fortune. 
 
 Regnault. Can I waive 
 
 My office of God's judge in things of God ? 
 I thought with you: but when her cheek took 
 
 fire, 
 Telling how came the voice, ' Go on, go on, 
 Daughter of God,' it rang so golden-true, 
 I knew it for heaven's mintage and not earth's. 
 
84 JOAN THE MAID act ii 
 
 Tremouille. Well, you, not I, are heaven's 
 assayer. And yet — 
 Nay, it is not my province. 
 
 Regnault. Say it out. 
 
 Tremouille. Then, seems it not this envoy 
 spiritual 
 Is something scant of deference to the sway 
 Of spiritual Powers ordained ? For me, 
 I think (but you are large and generous, 
 And in your own cause loth to note affront) 
 Daughter of God were daughter of the Church. 
 You preach us, you divines, of carnal pride 
 Marring fair works. Fear you not this ? 
 
 Regnault. The Church 
 
 Is careful of her rule, not jealous. Where 
 Has Joan so lacked correction ? 
 
 Tremouille. O not that ; 
 
 No trespass. No ; an air, a glance, a pose, 
 A mood of curbed impatience while you spoke ; 
 No more. But let it pass. You saw it not : 
 Why vex you with it ? More imports how fared 
 State's policy. Here I turn me from my lord 
 Archbishop to my lord the Chancellor. 
 We base on statesmanship : we dread to watch 
 The tissues of your rare diplomacy, 
 Ere the fine hand could twine them into cords, 
 To reive up Duke with King, swept grossly through 
 
scene i JOAN THE MAID 85 
 
 By a girl's marshal-baton. That is why, 
 Estopped myself by failure of your lead, 
 I craved more stiffness in our Chancellor. 
 
 Regnault. I cannot hold myself to blame. The 
 folk 
 Are passionate for the girl. De Gaucourt knows 
 What the man risks who shuts a door on her. 
 
 De Gaucourt. Stoning in open street, if me you ask. 
 A pleasant passage and rememberable. 
 And two-score years a soldier ! Well, the Turks 
 For me : they're easier foughten than a wench. 
 
 Regnault. Even so. And statesmanship will 
 strain no power 
 Save for clear profit. Give her passion rein, 
 Then ride and guide. The purse-strings of the state 
 Are bridle at need. And, Tremouille, if she win, 
 We treat on prouder terms with Burgundy : 
 If fail, not we have failed, our counsel stands 
 Approved by practice. 
 
 Tremouille. Have it so, my lord. 
 
 I am half myself persuaded. 
 
 Regnault. Well, the King 
 
 Has dined and needs me. You, De Gaucourt, too ? 
 
 De Gaucourt. Ay, spite of wenches, needs the 
 old soldier still. 
 We'll go. Farewell, my lord, of Tremouille. 
 
 {Exeunt Regnault and De Gaucourt.) 
 
86 JOAN THE MAID act ii 
 
 Tremouille. The fox, the ox : a couple strangely 
 yoked 
 That I must plough with. Swish your tail, Sir Ox, 
 You will not scare that gadfly of your spleen 
 While I can keep it buzzing. You, Sir Fox, 
 Regnault — Reynard . . . tut, call him hare, that stole 
 A fox's hide and airs the brush as proud 
 As peacock fan, to warrant us his craft. 
 And lo, the proof ! He has my scheme by heart 
 (How solemn he rehearsed the lesson now !), 
 Thinks it his own, will boast it for his own, 
 Will cradle it, father it, — and be hanged for it, 
 Poor fox-skin, if it fail us. Will it fail ? 
 The folk so worship her. The Maid, the Maid ! 
 So worshipful it seems then to be maid. 
 What's so divine in maidenhood ? And yet 
 She beats the English by it, and she beats 
 In them La Tremouille. Let her win too long, 
 And soon my bantling prince will grow the wings 
 I keep so trimly clipped. A maid, forsooth ! 
 Why should it be so strong to be a maid ? 
 'Tis somewhat rare, i' faith, as manners are. 
 . . . Ha ! but I have it . . . the holy maidenhood, 
 Can we not alter that ? For there be ways. 
 How might our maid be prosperously wife . . . 
 Or, better, less than wife and more than maid? 
 That were the master stroke. Or, least and worst, 
 
scene I JOAN THE MAID 87 
 
 Might we entangle her, make rumour's breath 
 Bedamp this crystal of virginity 
 With ' Our cold virgin has a heart, a heart 
 Like all the world.' Yes, yes, some gallant boy, 
 Hired in my own Poitou, would pleasure me. 
 I'll bear the costs of marriage — or the attempt, 
 Or ... In the name of (which shall I invoke 
 Justlier at such concurrence ?) here's the man 
 Made for my service. 
 
 Raimond approaches 
 
 Walk you still, young sir ? 
 
 Raimond. I wait in duty. 
 
 Tremouille. On the Maid? 
 
 Raimond. On her. 
 
 Tremouille. A happy service, with your leave 
 to say it. 
 
 Raimond. My lord, I think it. 
 
 Tremouille. And you march with her 
 
 To the new fights on Loire ? 
 
 Raimond. Most blithe indeed, 
 
 — So my commission hold. 
 
 Tremouille. And holds it not ? 
 
 Raimond. My lord, I thought that rested with 
 yourself. 
 
 Tremouille. Nay, doth it so? That it should 
 'scape me ! Sir, 
 Forgive it, for my head is thronged of late. 
 
88 JOAN THE MAID act ii 
 
 But, since my choice has prospered so, believe 
 It will not change. 
 
 Raimond. My lord, I thank you well. 
 
 Tremouille. The thanks are mine to pay. We 
 cannot choose 
 With a too prosperous art her gentlemen, 
 Our safeguard's own safeguarded. 
 
 Raimond. We shall do 
 
 Our manliest in the trust. 
 
 Tremouille. Yea, do ye that : 
 
 And your most prudent too, so much she dares. 
 I have a qualm at moments how we jar 
 This costly vessel in our hurtling fights. 
 ' Oft to the fount, at last to wreck,' is said 
 Of common clays. Prove it not true of hers ! 
 Yet she must fear it, for she tells the King 
 Her ' time is short.' Sir, have you light on this ? 
 
 Raimond. None. But she bade him use her 
 while he may. 
 That speaks not fear. 
 
 Tremouille. Why, no : you read her well. 
 
 You have her mind, if any. But I would find 
 A gentle reading. She will end the war 
 As swiftly as triumphantly, ungird 
 Her harness, and be wed by some — 
 
 Raimond. My lord, 
 
 She will not wed. 
 
scene i JOAN THE MAID 89 
 
 Tremouille. O then you know it ? 
 
 Raimond. I ? 
 
 Tis common knowledge. ' Maiden ' is her name. 
 
 Tremouille. For use in camps, I take it. War 
 at end, 
 Why weds she not as all ? 
 
 Raimond. I cannot say. 
 
 And yet she will not. 
 
 Tremouille. More's the pity then. 
 
 A noble bride : I'll say it, a noble's bride ; 
 Her birth not hindering. Sooth, it rather steads : 
 Who breaks that bar will be the generous heart, 
 The deeper-seeing, and that loves for worth. 
 There are such, yes, in our hard days. Besides 
 Kings can ennoble at will. But, out on us ! 
 We gossip like old damozels ; I to blame. 
 The rest is earnest. Sir, there must be one 
 Whom the Maid trusts, and whom the King may trust, 
 To eye her weal in his more special name. 
 He is most jealous for her. In the wars 
 Are other soldiers than a foe's to dread 
 For Joan. Her nearest in regard are you 
 (Nay, for we know it) ; use your nearness well, 
 Lest others near her ; like a friend, beset : 
 And, as you may, keep level with her thought, 
 That she may trust one loyal gentleman 
 With hint of danger if she see it, and we, 
 
go JOAN THE MAID act ii 
 
 Warned by yourself, give succour. Enough. You 
 
 hear 
 And understand. I see the King thereon. 
 Wait not his word ; your warrant is my own. 
 But he forgets not, sir, what men are true, 
 And secret, in his cause. 
 
 Raimond. My lord, the task 
 
 For the King's warrant is more sacred still. 
 Unwarranted, I had laid it on my faith. 
 
 Tremouille. Even so. But now the King has 
 
 laid it there ; 
 He looks to you. Give you good even, sir. 
 
 Raimond. And you, my lord. {Goes up staged) 
 Tremouille (looking after him). I have lodged 
 
 the philtre in him : 
 ... If he but love her as I hate her — 'Sdeath ! 
 There'll be hot wooing. (Goes.) 
 
 Raimond (turning and coming forward). What to 
 
 think of this ? 
 Is he so false then ? False or true, the charge 
 Is pure : the King's word sweetly chimes with love's. 
 Something he shadowed of advancement. Heart, 
 Forget it : love shall work for love. And still 
 How jumps it with my fancy, that the Maid 
 Was France to me, and fame, and golden deed. 
 'Tis Fortune beckoning from the gates of Love 
 To one same path. And then, 'her time is short' 
 
scene u JOAN THE MAID 91 
 
 Come, Peace, and change her. O in one quick hour 
 How much more near the mortal stoops the star ! 
 
 {Goes.) 
 
 SCENE II. — A Hall in the Castle of Loches 
 Marguerite and Raimond 
 
 Marguerite. So you must go to-morrow, Guy 
 and you, 
 To help Joan drive the English. 
 
 Raimond. As we mean. 
 
 Marguerite. Take care then of her. 
 
 Raimond. Care ? How should I not ? 
 
 Marguerite. Not too much, neither. , 
 
 Raimond. And how should I that ? 
 
 Marguerite. Well, well. How can I say ? But 
 you are wise. 
 'Tis true : for two nights since La Tremouille 
 Told me himself. 
 
 Raimond. And, damsel, was he right ? 
 
 Marguerite. I might have known to answer 
 weeks ago. 
 Now — why, we talk but seldom. 
 
 Raimond. Am I fallen 
 
 Of late from better manners ? Yet, methinks, 
 Your kindness brings you, where my duty me, 
 To the Maid's side, not seldom. 
 
92 JOAN THE MAID act ii 
 
 Marguerite. Do you think 
 
 La Tremouille was so right to call you wise ? 
 
 Raimond. You said it, and not I. 
 
 Marguerite. La Tremouille 
 
 Trusts you in much. Oh, but he told myself ! 
 
 Raimond. Why, then, belike he does. 
 
 Marguerite. In gratitude, 
 
 You should return it, should you not ? 
 
 Raimond. What, I? 
 
 The Squire to him the Councillor ? But I see 
 You trifle. 
 
 Marguerite. Ah, sir, no. . . . La Tremouille 
 Speaks very honourable things of Joan. 
 
 Raimond. Why, can he help himself? 
 
 Marguerite. La Tremouille 
 
 Is very careful for her. 
 
 Raimond (angrily). What is this ? 
 Tremouille, Tremouille, Tremouille. Is there one 
 Name only we can talk of? 
 
 Marguerite. O the heat ! 
 
 And I so thought the theme would pleasure you ! 
 
 Raimond. You mean some mischief, though I 
 guess not what. 
 
 Marguerite. There may be mischief, and /guess 
 not what. 
 Let's talk of other things. My lord — of Sully 
 (Since my lord's proper name enrages you) — 
 
scene ii JOAN THE MAID 93 
 
 Is provident for Joan. {Pauses.) 
 
 A yeoman's wife 
 Upon our lands would lie awake at nights, 
 For tender care about a steer, but she, 
 Good soul, was thinking upon Martinmas 
 And saltings against Yule. O how my tongue 
 Runs off to trifles ! See ! I prove you right. 
 
 Raimond. Will you not tell me, damsel, what 
 you mean ? 
 
 Marguerite. When I am meaning nothing? 
 And besides 
 Joan has a proverb, ' Men be hanged at times 
 For speaking truth.' 
 
 Raimond. Then, damsel, time it is 
 
 We risk so much between us, being friends. 
 I see you hate this lord we speak of. 
 
 Marguerite. Hate ? 
 
 sir, what have I said but in his praise ? 
 Raimond. You do him wrong to praise, and 
 
 wrong to hate ; 
 
 1 wrong him neither way, but hold he seeks 
 Joan's welfare, not as we for love, and yet 
 Truly, from sober reckoning of the gain. 
 
 I grant he has no fervour for her faith ; 
 But he pretends none. Man of state is he ; 
 Not spiritual, yet approves a spiritual aid, 
 And out of cold good-counsel does the right. 
 
94 JOAN THE MAID ACT n 
 
 You women, like the children, write men down 
 Good, bad : white, black : ' I love,' or ' I detest.' 
 You cannot take a man for what he is, 
 And use him. 
 
 Marguerite. Ah ! you mean to use the lord 
 We name not ; use ! I had not thought of that. 
 I' faith, 'tis prettily conceited. 
 
 Raimond. There ! 
 
 Mocking as ever. 
 
 Marguerite. Mocking ! if you knew 
 How sore my heart is for this Heart of France, 
 Our wondrous Joan, and how the nameless fear 
 Creeps, at a someone's shadow passing by ! 
 Oh, sir, you shall not be the death of her ! 
 
 Raimond. God's life ! I'd die myself a hundred 
 times 
 For Joan ! You know it. 
 
 Marguerite. Better were to live. 
 
 Raimond. As live I will. What is it I would 
 not do ? 
 
 Marguerite. He does not always best who does 
 the most, 
 About a maiden. . . . There's a step I know ; 
 Quick, promise me to guard her with your life, 
 And never to forget. 
 
 Raimond (kissing her hand). Be sure of me. 
 
 (Exit Raimond.) 
 
scene II JOAN THE MAID 95 
 
 Guy entering, hears his last words 
 
 Guy {aside). ' Be sure of him.' Why, so, till now, 
 was I. 
 {Aloud) Damsel, I came to take my leave. 
 
 Marguerite. Your friend 
 
 Raimond, and I, were speaking of you now. 
 
 Guy. My friend ; not yours then ? 
 
 Marguerite. Mine, as well you know. 
 
 Guy. I knew, at least, he was not less than friend. 
 
 Marguerite. ' Not less than friend.' It sounds 
 a riddle. Is it ? 
 But do not ask me guess it, for my mind 
 Is very dull, with thought of losing you — 
 The twain of you, I mean — besides the Maid. 
 It will be grim at Court when you are gone. 
 
 Guy. Would any one of us have served without 
 The others ? 
 
 Marguerite. Better one than none. And yet, 
 
 fie on me, to choose my company ! 
 There is no Maid like ours, there is no friend 
 More loyal than is Raimond, and no knight 
 More gallant than Laval. 
 
 Guy (aside). This tune is sweeter. 
 
 1 heard amiss. 
 
 Marguerite. Now, could you choose, Sir Guy, 
 Between them, you, if you were Marguerite ? 
 
9 § JOAN THE MAID act ii 
 
 Guy. Ay, 
 
 And easily, for, were I Marguerite, 
 Then Marguerite were Laval, and I should choose 
 That gallant knight undoubting. 
 
 Marguerite. There again 
 
 A riddle,, and I cannot play the game, 
 I am so sad at parting. Brave my knight, 
 Farewell, and fight the battles of the Maid ; 
 But wisely too the while, and bring her home 
 Safe, and yourself. One out of three to choose 
 Is hard : oh, how much harder then to lose. 
 
 (Is going, but returns.) 
 See, here's a feather moulted from my cap. 
 T would fit a steel cap better. Will you try ? 
 
 (Gives him a feather and goes.) 
 
 SCENE III. — A Chamber in La Tremouille's 
 Castle of Sully 
 
 Charles, Tremouille, Regnault, Le Macon 
 in council 
 
 Regnault. One other matter claims your notice, 
 sire, 
 The Second Council of the Realm awaits 
 The royal seal. 
 
scene in JOAN THE MAID 97 
 
 Charles. I had forgot. {Seals a pafer.) We 
 hope 
 Much profit, Regnault, of your pains upon it. 
 
 Tremouille. I count this parcelling of the 
 kingdom's charge, 
 Sire, of your happiest thoughts. My Lord of Rheims, 
 We owe you for your boldness, who accept 
 Our perilous North : but then no less we owe 
 For the tried skill which warrants it. 
 
 Regnault. My thanks 
 
 To my Lord Dauphin shall be paid in toils. 
 Le Macon, have we news yet of the camp 
 Asking decision ? 
 
 Le Macon. News, but vague and crossed. 
 At Jargeau and at Meun our arms, it seems, 
 Prosper. The happier this, because I hear 
 Of ill content among the chiefs. 
 
 Tremouille. Ah ! so ? 
 
 Where should this lie ? 
 
 Le Macon. Betwixt the Maid and them. 
 
 She bears it with too high a hand, they say, 
 And brooks no peer in council. 
 
 Tremouille. Gentle sire, 
 
 Your chiefs must bear it. Kings themselves, if envy 
 Were not too low for them, might feel its prick, 
 When they are served too well. 
 
 Charles. How mean you that ? 
 
 H 
 
g8 JOAN THE MAID act ii 
 
 Tremouille. That chiefs should take example 
 by their prince, 
 And be magnanimous. You gave her, you, 
 Absolute trust, who might have doubted well 
 Lest she who makes the kingdom yours should make 
 The kingdom's heart her own. You doubted not. 
 The chiefs must brook her then. 
 
 Charles. We note in her 
 
 A reverence steadfast as her service is. 
 
 Tremouille. May wisdom keep it still unspoiled. 
 My fear 
 Were rather of the undiscerning herd, 
 Men of the ranks that make their songs of her, 
 Men of the streets that worship. Well, what harm ? 
 If turning Fortune turned their simple head, 
 The folly passes with the war. I strayed 
 (My error) from the purpose : may we count 
 These late successes give us rest ? 
 
 Le Ma§on (who has gone to the door, and returned). 
 My liege, 
 The Maid's esquire waits at the door, and craves 
 Audience on her behalf. 
 
 Charles. Admit him. 
 
 Raimond enters and salutes Charles 
 
 Sir, 
 You come with news ? 
 
scene in JOAN THE MAID 99 
 
 Raimond. My liege, the noblest. France 
 
 Has clashed with England's best on open field, 
 And driven them to the winds. 
 
 Charles. Ah ! good is Heaven. 
 
 (Aside) Then was I heard : then am I king indeed. 
 
 Raimond. And Talbot, the great Talbot's self 
 is taken. 
 
 Charles. Why, wonder is outwondered. More ; 
 say more. 
 Make us believe. 
 
 Raimond. My liege, I shall not fail. 
 
 How Jargeau fell before us, how the bridge 
 Of Meun, and how Beaugency, have you heard. 
 The next shall make you well forget them all. 
 My lord, when news was brought us how Fastolfe, 
 Long dreaded, ranged by Talbot's side at last, 
 Re-forcing him from England, doubts had we 
 If we might hold our winnings ; but the Maid 
 Flashed out a ' God be thanked, we have them all : 
 Look that your spurs be sharp ' ; and when we stared, 
 Asking her meaning, ' Sooth, to hunt the fliers ! ' 
 So swept us on to battle. North of Loire, 
 So tangled is the plain, we feared to spend 
 A week of Blindman-hunting in the woods. 
 But from a launde's edge at our feet upsprang 
 A ten -branched stag, leaping the launde, and 
 plunged 
 
ioo JOAN THE MAID act ii 
 
 Through the far covert rustling : when a sound 
 Rose to make French blood spring, a foreign cry 
 Of venery, then an answer, and in a trice 
 A long halali volleying down a line 
 Of jocund hunters at a quarry's rouse : 
 And they the launde-breadth off their mortal foes ! 
 Sire, I am French, but half my heart with them 
 Bounded, at note of the blithe woodsman glee, 
 To hunt with them, not slay. But dumb we stayed 
 Warning the host behind, till fierce La Hire 
 Upspurring hurled us on them. Hot we came, 
 Ere they could crown a rise or plant a stake, 
 And rolled their archery in an instant wreck 
 Down on their startled pikes, and swept the twain, 
 A groaning, helpless welter of huddled arms, 
 Back, back, and into fragments. There I saw 
 Heaving upon the rearward-eddying war 
 Grim Talbot, with a half-score spears at back, 
 Wheel his big sorrel, as were't a barque, to ride 
 The wave down of our horsemen, but the wave 
 Rode him down and went over. There behind 
 Came all too late Fastolfe, whom Talbot's wreck, 
 Flung by our storm upon his ordered front, 
 Like a dead hulk that, staggering blind across 
 A seaway, grinds a living galley's side, 
 Smote on and broke and foundered. All the 
 Beauce 
 
scene in JOAN THE MAID 101 
 
 Was strowed with drift of that disaster. Sire, 
 There is no host of England left afield : 
 Not Paris gate could bar us, came you there. 
 
 Tremouille {aside). So fast, sir! Fool, to let 
 her grow to this. 
 {Aloud) My liege, I am lost in glory like yourself. 
 ' No English host afield.' At last, at last 
 Rest in your borders ! Thank we all the Maid 
 Who ends as she began. 
 
 Charles. Not ends, my lord : 
 
 There's yet the consecration. Has not this 
 Opened our way to Rheims ? 
 
 Raimond. To Rheims ! my King, 
 
 To Rheims ! O no, to Paris, to the sea. 
 
 Tremouille. Your youngest counsellor has the 
 speed, my liege, 
 Of us, who know but the affairs of state. 
 
 Charles. Nay, Tremouille, nay. What harm? 
 The gallant lad 
 Brings burning news. If he be hot withal, 
 I will not blame him. 
 
 Raimond. Grace, my noble liege, 
 
 For my rash speaking. All the camp is hot 
 (I did but speak their thought) to bring you 
 thither. 
 
 Tremouille. Ah ! let me not, young sir, be 
 taken amiss. 
 
102 JOAN THE MAID act ii 
 
 I did but smile to mark your valiant heat 
 Outrun us tardy men of state. Indeed, 
 My royal master, he is wise as hot 
 In every faithful office, and the Maid, 
 For so I learn, prizes his counsel well. 
 
 Raimond. No, no ; you credit me too far. The 
 Maid 
 Honours a childish friendship ; that is all. 
 
 Tremouille (to Charles). Well, not to quarrel 
 with his modesty, 
 I will but say your royal need will find 
 No surer servant. For the march to Rheims, 
 Your chancellor, if I read his looks, will urge 
 As reason for demur 
 
 Usher (entering). Your Grace, the Maid 
 
 Craves audience. 
 
 Charles. How ! So quick ? Her messenger 
 Has scarce outstripped her. Let her enter. 
 
 Tremouille. Sire, 
 
 Were it not well before she comes, to hear 
 The Chancellor tell us 
 
 Charles. What ! And keep door shut 
 
 On her ? Such deed, and such a welcome home ! 
 Admit her straightway. No, Sir Raimond, you 
 Leave us not yet. I would have soldiers know 
 How we received their leader. 
 
scene in JOAN THE MAID 103 
 
 Enter Joan, who falls at King's feet 
 
 Ah, not so. 
 Joan shall not kneel in such an hour as this. 
 Daughter of France, in the great name of France 
 I give thee her salute. {Kisses her on brow.) 
 
 Alas ! no thanks 
 Of ours can match this wonder. 
 
 Joan. O no, no ! 
 
 Pray you, no thanks for Joan, I only bade 
 Your soldiers fight and fear not, and the Lord 
 Of battles threw the foe. The deed is His. 
 
 Charles. Yea, Maid, but had He done it without 
 
 Joan? 
 Joan. O gentle Dauphin, there is nothing done. 
 Charles. Nothing ! And you in one miraculous 
 week 
 Have broken England. 
 
 Joan. Nothing done, until 
 
 The Dauphin is the King. O, you will set 
 Forward to Rheims to-morrow. (Charles is silent.) 
 
 Dear, my liege, 
 You cannot doubt me still. . . . O pray you, 
 speak. 
 Charles. Joan, I will go with you. 
 
 {Glancing at Tremouille.) 
 My lords, I say it. 
 
104 JOAN THE MAID ACT n 
 
 Regnault. It rests but with your Grace to say it. 
 And yet — 
 But shall the Council meet and speak of this ? 
 
 Charles. We are in council now. Speak on, 
 my lord. 
 
 Regnault. Since I am bidden. And in truth 
 my drift 
 Is scarce a secret of your Council. Sire, 
 You cannot without soldiers march on Rheims ; 
 And as Le Magon will report, the chest 
 Holds not a coin to pay them. 
 
 Charles. Is it so ? 
 
 Maid, I had thought 
 
 Joan. O sire, what hinders it ? 
 
 Upon my faith, you shall not need a coin 
 To pay your soldiers ; they will fight unfee'd 
 With merry heart, to have you crowned at Rheims. 
 A hundred ancient gentlemen of France 
 (And ask Sir Raimond here to witness me) 
 Would sell their fathers' acres, the good horse 
 Between their knees, the gay coat off their back, 
 And tramp afoot like yeomen at your side 
 To see your sacring-hour. Away, away. 
 God wills it. 
 
 Tremouille (aside). 'Sdeath, the girl is glorious. 
 Can one be foiled and love the child that foils ? 
 Ah! 
 
scene in JOAN THE MAID 105 
 
 Charles. Sire de Tremouille, were you speaking ? 
 
 Tremouille. No. 
 
 This ardour of our maiden general 
 So much o'ercomes me. Then, her counsel is 
 Warranted by such deeds. I am ashamed 
 To follow her with cold reasons. Must I speak ? 
 
 Charles. We wait your mind. 
 
 Tremouille. My own it is not. I 
 
 Think Regnault leaves unurged an interest 
 He guards in chief. He is treating (do I break, 
 So far, a Council secret ?) with the Duke. 
 Regnault must more instruct us, but I fear, 
 Greatly I fear, lest by too much parade 
 Of our new prowess (Maid, our thanks for it !) 
 We flutter-off the alliance. Philip gives 
 More than we claim : but he must give it, not 
 Unhand it as to force. Leave him to weigh 
 The silent eloquence of our Maiden's deeds : 
 It will incline him more to render grace, 
 While there's an hour for grace. Once trumpet out 
 Our menace to the foes of France, and he 
 Draws in aifronted, bids us snatch by arms, 
 If so we prosper, what hald else been ours 
 Bloodless, and with his friendship. I have spoken. 
 
 Regnault. And weightily. What say ye, Joan, 
 to this ? 
 
 Joan. I say my lord has bidden go to Rheims. 
 
106 JOAN THE MAID act ii 
 
 Regnault. ' My lord ' ? I understand you not. 
 The King? 
 
 Joan. Ah, yes, the King of Heaven, our Dauphin's 
 King. 
 He never said one word of Burgundy : 
 He said but only ' Go to Rheims, and crown 
 The Dauphin King.' He spoke it plain. Then what, 
 Sirs, is there left ? 
 
 Tremouille. She will not understand. 
 Joan, when men asked you once what need there was 
 Of soldiers, if God willed that France be saved, 
 You answered, ' Let the soldiers fight, and God 
 Will make them conquer.' So I answer now, 
 ' Let statesmen treat, God make the treaty sure.' 
 
 Joan. He never speaks of treaties. He has said, 
 'Be crowned at Rheims.' 
 
 Tremouille. Surely : but in good hour. 
 
 For does the sacring press ? Your Grace is King 
 (This Maid be thanked) in what of power is real. 
 The form, the holy ritual, of our folk 
 So prized, is not to be foregone : and yet 
 Shall we risk substance for a show ? 
 
 Joan. A show ! 
 
 The high God's own anointing of His own ; 
 The grace that makes a prince to rule, a folk 
 Obey him ! No, but I misheard it : you 
 Cannot think this wise of the holy thing. 
 
scene in JOAN THE MAID 107 
 
 I know you are Councillor of State, I know 
 
 You have to judge of means and times and men, 
 
 Of things how far beyond my knowing, yet, 
 
 O my good lord, God has a book whereon 
 
 You that are learned and I the simple can 
 
 Read at each other's side together. Sir, 
 
 We know you seek but to advance the state 
 
 By the wise mind Heaven gave you; then be 
 
 you 
 Not angry that a girl, who never learnt 
 To write a word or read a mortal book, 
 Has asked you to come read this page with her, 
 And put your wisdom all away. My lord, 
 You have to mingle always with the world, 
 And hear its voices, and attend its work, 
 O but in your good heart I verily think 
 You too can hear the voice, and see the hand 
 That beckons, as I hear it, and I see. {Pauses.) 
 
 No? (To Regnault) Help him, you that have the 
 charge for Christ. 
 
 (Looks from the one to the other, then turns 
 to Charles.) 
 Sire, it is God's will, if they see it or no. 
 He will fulfil it. And yet 
 
 Charles. What is it, Joan ? 
 
 What is this ' yet ' of yours ? 
 
 Joan. Nay, pardon me. 
 
108 JOAN THE MAID act ii 
 
 Charles. But you must tell me, Joan. I saw 
 your face 
 Change, and a trouble cross it. Speak it then. 
 
 Joan. Something remembered out of childish days, 
 How I heard said, ' God's promise never fails, 
 But if men fail to wish for it.' And now 
 It struck me cold as terror at the heart 
 That we might fail it. 
 
 Charles. Joan, we will not. No. 
 
 I have not spoken : I let our Council speak. 
 Yet the word lies with me. Joan, I will go. 
 God's voice is with you. Did we not that once 
 Hear it together ? (To the Council) Grudge it not, 
 
 my lords. 
 You, in your faithful office, doubted ; yet 
 Let her o'ersway your prudence, as she sways 
 Mine own. We go to take our crown at Rheims. 
 
 Joan (raising her hands to Heaven). Joy, joy, that 
 all is well, that you have heard ! 
 
 (Kneels at Dauphin's feet) 
 Sire, He will never fail His word, for you 
 Will fail it never. (Charles lays a hand on her hair) 
 
 Tremouille (aside). If she master him, 
 Lost are you, Tremouille. She must win no more 
 Battles ; the charm must sunder. (Aloud) Royal lord, 
 Forgive your Council's doubts. What could we do ? 
 It is a king's right, not a counsellor's, 
 
scene m JOAN THE MAID 109 
 
 To venture. And indeed your confidence 
 Is venture's soundest warrant. It will speed. 
 
 Joan {rising). I would you had sped it sooner, 
 and in name 
 Of Heaven. 
 
 Tremouille. We statesmen, Maiden, as you said, 
 Have to walk earth, with pain even that. The sky 
 We leave for who can tread it. Well, perhaps 
 Our falls are not so costly. 
 
 Joan. Ah ! 
 
 Tremouille {turning to Charles). My liege, 
 Will you let draft the summons ? 
 
 Joan {aside). Ay, 'tis hate. 
 
 {To Raimond) O Raimond, mark ! 
 
 {To Dauphin) Your royal Grace has need 
 Of us no more. 
 
 Charles. Till you take horse with me 
 
 For Rheims ; but that is soon. Fair rest the while. 
 (Joan and Raimond bow and go. Tre- 
 mouille talk* with Charles.) 
 Joan {going). If there befall a treachery, help me 
 you, 
 Raimond. 
 
 Raimond. O Joan, what's this, then ? 
 Joan. Hush! Apart. {They go.) 
 
 Charles {to Tremouille). Content ! Ah, yes ; 
 so soon could hardly be. 
 
no JOAN THE MAID act ii 
 
 SCENE IV. — Rheims Cathedral, part of the 
 Nave. Citizens, Soldiers, etc. 
 
 Enter a Woman with a child 
 
 Woman. God's mercy, here we are. And I 
 thought every bone of little Geoffrey would have 
 been cracked more than ever the Maid could mend 
 him. 
 
 Second Woman. Art crazed to bring that bairn 
 out to-day among the horses ! 
 
 First Woman. Nay, for he'd gotten weak ankle- 
 joints since one-eyed Margot overlooked him. And 
 I said, ' She shall touch him for't.' So I got through 
 with him on my shoulder, and the breath driven out 
 of me by the back end of a pike, and she looked 
 down off the great horse, like an angel out of glory, 
 and patted the head of him. 
 
 Citizen. The head of him ! How's that to cure 
 his feet ? 
 
 First Woman. It be all one either end of him 
 for such as her, and his head was the handier. Look 
 if he do not walk a bit less crooked already. 
 
 Second Woman. Well, I've a lead crown-piece 
 with her graven on it, all in armour, and the standard 
 and the lilies : had it of Friar Luke for a basket of 
 
scene iv JOAN THE MAID m 
 
 fresh eggs. It's certain 'gainst the shaking fever; 
 and he'll charm it fresh for me every Easter when I 
 take the offerings. 
 
 Citizen. Leave your chatter, women ! Here's 
 the Holy Phial coming. Down on your knees ! 
 
 (The Canons of St. Remy, escorted by four 
 gentlemen, carry past the Ampoule?) 
 
 Scot (to Jacques). What is yonder under the 
 canopy ? 
 
 Jacques. Why, what else but the Holy Phial ? 
 
 Scot. What's the Holy Phial ? 
 
 Jacques. Why, what was brought down to St. 
 Remy's Church out of heaven by a white dove. 
 
 First Woman. Nay, soldier, 'twas an angel, with 
 gold and blue wings. 
 
 Jacques. Trust a woman to know about angels, 
 and how they be dressed. 
 
 Scot. But what is it for ? 
 
 Jacques. Keeps the miracle -oil that makes a 
 dauphin into a king. 
 
 Scot. It will have ado to make a king out of yon, 
 then. I'd blither see the Maid anoint with it. 
 
 Jacques. Whist, man; treason-talk. But, truth, 
 if lying Queen Isabeau, that denied Charles, could 
 have told us Joan was her babe and a boy, 
 there'd be one white deed in a black account. Ay, 
 the stuff for a king ! Can teach old Bombard-muzzle 
 
ii2 JOAN THE MAID act ii 
 
 himself how to set a battalion, and that without 
 taking ever a curse to it: and gets more work out 
 of mangonels and arblasts than Jean of the Culverin. 
 A girl off a hedge, too ! How comes it, say you ? 
 
 Breton. Let me say. It is all one tale with her 
 prophesyings. She was graced straight out of heaven 
 with the fighting, like Peter with the preaching : and 
 'tis helpfuller for us than preaching. 'Tis the way of 
 the Holy Ghost with her, say I, amen. 
 
 {Crosses himself.) 
 
 Jacques. You Bretons be ever pious. Not that 
 it hinders fighting with you. 
 
 Enter Marguerite with Guy and Pasquerel 
 
 Marguerite. Sir, do not fail your station with 
 the Peers 
 For me. Let Father Pasquerel bring me on. 
 
 Guy. No, there is time yet. I must place you 
 where 
 You see the royal sword make knights of us. . 
 Then am I doubly cavalier, by stroke 
 Of the King's sword and of fair Marguerite's eyes. 
 Marguerite. Nay, trebly; Joan will watch it. 
 Happy knights ! 
 Guy, did you mark her as she passed the gate 
 Last even, and the live street broke in voice ? 
 
scene iv JOAN THE MAID 113 
 
 I think the martyrs born again in bliss 
 So smile on their awaking. 
 
 Guy. At the feast 
 
 Methought she saddened. 
 
 Marguerite. Know you why ? She heard, 
 
 Across the joy-bells, as she rode the street, 
 A voice on air, ' They will betray thee, Joan ; 
 But fear not ' ; as she listened on for more, 
 There was La Tremouille at her stirrup, afoot, 
 Waiting to help her down. What make you of it ? 
 
 Guy. A fancy. Fear, on these great heights of joy, 
 Is human toll for more than human bliss. 
 Who should betray her ? 
 
 Marguerite. Wilt be angry with me ? 
 
 Guy. No. You'll not name Laval. 
 
 Marguerite. Then tell me, why 
 
 Was Tremouille at her stirrup ? 
 
 Guy. To help her down. 
 
 You said it. 
 
 Marguerite. Nay, I cannot like the man. 
 
 Guy. Tut ! He's the oily courtier ; 'tis the mode. 
 No worse. 
 
 Marguerite. Guy, listen. I love the Maid 
 almost 
 As dear as I love any, maid or man. 
 I would not know the knight who grudged to help 
 Joan in her peril. 
 
 1 
 
ii 4 JOAN THE MAW act ii 
 
 Guy. How you look at me ! 
 
 Should I be like to grudge a perilled dame ? 
 You are not kind. 
 
 Marguerite. You are so cold for her, 
 Our Joan, the bravest and most tender soul 
 God fashioned ever. I could not love the heart 
 That shut its door upon my other love. 
 
 Guy. Do / shut door ? I see it ; you will ask 
 Raimond, for he's about her most, to play 
 Your — how to call it ? — champion-once-removed. 
 Doubtless I rank with him but poorly. 
 
 Marguerite. Guy ! 
 
 How spleenful ! If I answer that I love 
 Best who best loves the Maid. . . . O, are you dumb ? 
 I can show spleen, I too. Sir, we detain you : 
 The Father will conduct me. See, they come. 
 My Lord La Tremouille seeks you : fail him not. 
 
 (Guy bows stiffly, and they fart. Proces- 
 sion of nobles with Charles and Joan 
 pass through the choir.) 
 
 First Woman. Hey ! Josephine, never a glimpse 
 shall we get of it. Sir {to the Scot), ye're kind-hearted 
 by the face, and you foreign archers be out of common 
 tall. Heave me up the bairn to your shoulder, to tell 
 my grandchildren how the Maid looked at the 
 Crowning. 
 
 Scot. Welcome, good mother. (Lifts the child.) 
 
scene iv JOAN THE MAID 115 
 
 It's not your grandchildren nor his great-great-grand- 
 children that will set eyes on her match. 
 
 Second Woman. See, gossip, where minstrel 
 Gautier has climbed to. He's perched on nothing, 
 like a bird of the air. He will see it all rarely, 
 unless he happen break his neck sooner. 
 
 First Woman. Not he ; is light of bone as a field- 
 mouse up a corn-stalk. And there's a providence 
 for the crazed ones. 
 
 (A loud music within. As it ends, the voice 
 
 of the minstrel is heard.} 
 O by sign of snows and fire, 
 O by whispers that aspire. . . . 
 Friar Robert. Hush ! brother. Hold thy songs, 
 and keep thy breath 
 To tell us here what passes. Are they come 
 Yet to the altar ? 
 
 Minstrel. Yea, the Archbishop mounts 
 The steps already. There's the Dauphin risen 
 From prayer, and gone towards him. 
 
 Friar. He will take 
 
 The oath to Holy Church. Heaven guard the same ! 
 Minstrel. 'Tis sworn. The Peers have said 
 
 amen to it. 
 Citizen. Tell which they be. 
 Minstrel. It is quick telling ; two — 
 
 Clermont, Vendome. 
 
n6 JOAN THE MAID act ii 
 
 Citizen. Shame on the stay-aways ! 
 
 Jacques. Patience a moment; there'll be more 
 anon. 
 I hear he'll make a Count of young Laval. 
 
 Second Woman. Ah ! that's the merry lad that 
 came this way, 
 He and his sweetheart. 
 
 First Woman. Eh ! 'twas none so sweet 
 
 She looked, nor he so merry when he went. 
 
 Jacques. And after him he makes La Tremouille. 
 
 Scot. Him ! Well, God keep us. 
 
 Jacques. And, they say, De Rais. 
 
 Breton. De Rais ! Why, heart of Mary ! Did 
 they send 
 Into our Brittany for the sponsors of him ? 
 
 Jacques. What say'st? There's never better 
 man afield. 
 
 Breton. Ay, sooth, afield. But do not ask at 
 home. 
 For there are Breton fathers — Well, anon. 
 
 Friar. Peace, friends, and listen Gautier. 
 
 Minstrel. Now he knights 
 
 The King. 
 
 Jacques. What he ? 
 
 Minstrel. Alengon. 
 
 Jacques. Ay, for lack 
 
 Of Burgundy. More shame on Burgundy ! 
 
scene iv JOAN THE MAID 117 
 
 First Woman. Where stands the Maid ? 
 
 Minstrel. On the first altar-step, 
 
 At corner ; D'Aulon, Raimond, on her left ; 
 And right, her rosy warrior, little Louis 
 Holds up the banner, with his eyes upon it, 
 Fair as a boy St. Martin. 
 
 First Woman. Bless the child ! 
 
 Minstrel. Now come they to the anointing. 
 Mark ye well, 
 Friends all. . . . The Archbishop from the altar takes 
 The Holy Phial. . . . The Dauphin kneels again. . . . 
 The sacred dew pours on him. 
 
 Friar. Pray we, friends, 
 
 Pray all for grace upon it ! Balm of God 
 Drawn from the Holiest Holies down on earth 
 Fall on him, sprinkle him, hallow him to the end ! 
 
 (A short burst of trumpets!) 
 
 Minstrel. Now is he risen. He turns to front 
 the folk. 
 
 Jacques. How does he bear him ? 
 
 Minstrel. Royally. 
 
 Second Woman. But his look ? 
 
 Tell us. 
 
 Minstrel. How can I that ? Ah, yet I can. 
 His face is as the Maid's. And hers — O wonder ! 
 
 Second Woman. Look how the man's o'ercome. 
 
 Minstrel. A beam on her 
 
n8 JOAN THE MAID act ii 
 
 Fallen from the skies robes her alone of all 
 To one white star of glory. . . . Ah, 'tis gone, 
 And touched none other. 
 
 Friar. Tis the Maiden's doom. 
 
 A woman, travailing, clothed of the sun. 
 Alone, alone. O sinners that be we ! 
 
 Minstrel. Friends, ye shall shout anon. Give 
 heed to me. 
 One bears the crown to the Archbishop's hand. 
 He holds it, praying, to the eyes of God. 
 He sets it on him. Shout ! For Charles is King. 
 
 {Long Mast of trumpets. Shout of ' Noel I 
 Noel!') 
 
 First Woman. The Maid, what does she ? 
 
 Minstrel. Very still is she ; 
 
 Her eyes uplift, and — O that ye could see ! 
 
 Man. What is it ? 
 
 Minstrel. I know not if a miracle ! 
 
 But up from foot to brows a moving flame 
 Reddens her armour, sets the Maid on fire. 
 
 Friar. A sign, a sign. What might it token ? 
 
 Scot {aside). Ay, 
 
 It is the flame-hued window looking south. 
 And yet — who knows ? 
 
 Minstrel. Well, it is passed again, 
 
 Like a trance fallen off her ; and she wakes. 
 She falls at the King's knees, embracing them ; 
 
scene iv JOAN THE MAID 119 
 
 I cannot hear her words, but how she sobs, 
 And how her tears are falling ! 
 
 Jacques. What does he ? 
 
 Minstrel. Weeps like a child above her. All 
 the Court 
 Are weeping with her. 
 
 Friar. Ah ! the gracious shower. 
 
 It is her pity for the realm of France 
 Makes French hearts tender. Soft with drops of rain 
 Is God's inheritance, and the fruit is blessed.' 
 
 (A blast of trumpets. The procession comes 
 back down the nave, with shouts of 
 ' Noel I Noel! ' The King leads Joan 
 by the hand. They pause!) 
 Charles. Ah ! Joan, some guerdon of your pains 
 is here, 
 To see our people's gladness. 
 
 Joan. Dear my liege, 
 
 This is a loving people, and a good. 
 Ah me, how glad in this kind earth of theirs 
 Would I be laid in dying ! 
 
 Regnault. Dying, Joan ? 
 
 What ails you ? Know you when your death shall be ? 
 Joan. Ah, no, not I, nor hour, nor place, nor how. 
 Charles. Then, Joan, what made you say it ? 
 Joan. Can I tell ? 
 
 Yet, now the purpose of the Lord is wrought, 
 
120 JOAN THE MAID act i 
 
 Fain were I to go home, so pleased it God 
 
 Who made me. Blithely would I serve again 
 
 Father and mother, drive our sheep afield, 
 
 Be as my sisters and my brothers are. 
 
 And they — how blithely would they have me home ! 
 
 But O my prince, let come to me what may, 
 
 For all is well. I have done the deed of Christ. 
 
 SCENE V. — Ante -chapel of the Church at 
 St. Denis, near Paris : the Shrine of 
 St. Denis is seen beyond the Screen 
 
 Tremouille (pacing the ante-chapel). I trust they 
 have taken order at the camp 
 Ere now. De Gaucourt was so cowed by her, 
 I fear him. . . . Yet he plucked her from the 
 
 trench, 
 And willy-nilly tossed on horse. Aha ! 
 Then first a Frenchman saw the Maid go back. 
 We owe him for it. But I sit on thorns 
 Till the King's order passes for the march 
 Homeward. 
 
 Messenger. My lord, De Gaucourt sends you 
 word 
 The camp breaks up at noon. 
 
 Tremouille. Bear him my thanks. 
 
scene v JOAN THE MAID 121 
 
 Inform Sir Raimond that I wait him here 
 
 Without the chapel. (Exit Messenger.) 
 
 Then I breathe again. 
 There's a fight won at last, La Tremouille, 
 By losing one for her. The Maid that never, 
 Never was beaten — beaten at Paris gate ! 
 It is but once ; yet in the once is all. 
 Spells cannot be resoldered. . . . Are we sure ? 
 I'll keep in quiver still my second shaft, 
 And use. It is less cruel : indeed, it is 
 A shaft of kind Dan Cupid. O but blunt, 
 Slack-feathered, one to shame the god ! A wooer, 
 Raimond, to make men laugh ; but angers more 
 Me, with his cursed knightly daintiness 
 And chivalries of reserve. I'll make him spring. 
 If the spring fail, there's matter in the attempt " 
 My wits shall set fermenting. She has come. 
 
 (Looking out of a window!) 
 I vanish. 
 
 (Exit by north door. Joan and Louis, 
 carrying Joan's armour, enter by south 
 door.) 
 
 Joan. Louis, set it down. . . . How chill 
 The air is of this place. 
 
 Louis. I feel it not, 
 
 Dear madam. 
 
 Joan. Chill I feel it as the grave. 
 
122 JOAN THE MAW act ii 
 
 Louis. Your wound has left you weak. 
 
 Joan. It is not that. 
 
 It is the passage of some evil thing 
 That the touched air gives note of, even as, 
 Where come the saints, it glows. But gone it is. 
 
 {Looks into the church!) 
 Yonder the shrine is of St. Denis, right 
 Of the great altar : you must lay the arms 
 At Blessed Mary's feet. 
 
 Louis. I am very loth. 
 
 Will you not tell me why you offer them ? 
 
 Joan. But that you know right well, — in thank- 
 fulness 
 For healing of my wound. 
 
 Louis. You said it ; yet 
 
 You have been healed before, and did not so. 
 
 Joan. Louis, I heard it said of ancient men 
 That, when a champion died, they laid his bones, 
 All in his armour as he fought, beside 
 The border, 'twixt his people and his foes : 
 For these could never pass across the sword 
 Of the dead man, and conquer. 
 
 Louis. Speak not so ; 
 
 I cannot bear it. You, Maid, are not dead. 
 You shall not die before your deeds are done. 
 
 Joan. And are you sure that champion was so 
 dead 
 
scene v JOAN THE MAID 123 
 
 He could do no deed after ? The great Charles, 
 Yes, Louis, and your holy namesake, fight 
 Still for their France, being dead. But let it be. 
 This armour, shining in the glimmering arch, 
 Shall tell that hither came our France, and hither 
 Will come and further, as the river-spoil 
 Of brimming Seine, left on his meadow, tells 
 How the shrunk flood can mount there, if he will. 
 
 Louis. Why now, that likes me better. I will 
 bear them 
 Into the chapel. 
 
 Joan. Do ; then leave me here. 
 
 (Louis goes into the chapel and places the 
 armour.} 
 Ah me ! what tells my heart that here will be 
 The loving boy's last service ? 
 
 Louis (coming back). Maid 
 
 Joan. What is it ? 
 
 Louis. I heard De Gaucourt say to Tremouille, 
 — He meant not to be heard — he said 
 
 Joan. Speak on. 
 
 Louis. Said, ' She is easier handling in the camp 
 Now,' and he stopped. 
 
 Joan. What answered Tremouille ? 
 
 Louis. Nothing. He feigned not hear; he saw 
 me. 
 
 Joan. So. 
 
124 JOAN THE MAID act ii 
 
 My faithful Louis, would you were but half 
 As strong to help as loyal ! 
 
 Louis. There be few, 
 
 Yet there be some, that love you not. 
 
 Joan. I know it. 
 
 Be silent, Louis, and watch. But leave me now. 
 
 (Louis goes. Joan stands at the opening 
 of the screen.) 
 If this should be the end ! If Joan indeed 
 Must render back again to Him who gave 
 Arms of his battle ; never feel again 
 The grip of harness make the living nerves 
 Hard as the steel that girds them. Should I grieve ? 
 I am so weary of the wars. At night 
 When the wound heated me, my dream was still 
 Of wandering cattle-bells, that seemed to call 
 Joan to the milking-byre, but when I sought 
 To follow, there was weight upon my limbs, 
 Methought of armour, till I looked, and lo ! 
 A chain that girthed me round. It was the clasp 
 Of the close bands about the wound, I knew. 
 But O to smell the fields of home again ! 
 
 (Goes to the door and looks out.) 
 Of home. Ah, yes, after these mighty days. 
 O I would be yon carolling lark in heaven, 
 That sings his triumph out on air, and then, 
 Soft as a dropping plummet, buoys him down 
 
scene v ' JOAN THE MAID 125 
 
 Safe to the nested heather, seen no more. 
 
 (Comes back and closes door.) 
 Alas ! can France be freed except I fight ? 
 Yet, if I fight can she be freed even so, 
 Except — O Christ ! they willed I should not win 
 At Paris gate : they mock the faith, they mock 
 In secret. They will say, ' The Maid has failed. 
 It was by chance and not by God she won 
 Those other times. The charmed sword in her hand, 
 See, it has broken.' O, or dare they say, 
 ' Lo, now, she conquered by the Evil One, 
 Even as we feared ' ? Nay, nay, they dare not — yet, 
 Dear God, what cruel whisper dries my soul, 
 ' Joan, art thou sure ? And cannot Satan clothe 
 His visiting angels as with light, and work 
 Signs to deceive the elect, until he draw 
 A proud heart on to ruin ? ' Away, away, 
 Tempter, I know thee ! Michael, help me thou, 
 And holy Catherine, holy Margaret, help ! 
 Sweet sisters mine of Paradise, on earth 
 Comfort the mortal maiden : speak with her. 
 
 (She kneels. A bell begins to toll. She 
 looks up suddenly?) 
 Spake ye ? Yea, yea : the light, the light ! O nigher, 
 Come nigher : I fear not, I. Great Son of light, 
 Strong Seraph of the Sword of Heaven, O speak, 
 Speak, for the Maiden hears. . . . 
 
126 JOAN THE MAID act n 
 
 Yea, Lord, I know it. Alas ! it was not done. 
 
 But could I do your bidding, if the men 
 
 Denied me yonder ? How I strove, thou knowest : 
 
 And sure I am ye have all forgiven me. 
 
 What then ; what next ? Ah, clearer ! Let me 
 
 hear 
 And understand. . . . Thy sword ! Yea, thine was 
 
 never 
 Broken. O, I will follow, follow again. 
 But how is this ? What meanest ? 
 Not with the blade thou beckonest as before. 
 Why hold'st to me the hilt, a shining cross 
 Of flame, aglow yet from thine hand ? or is it 
 Jewelwork, as they fashion gems in heaven, 
 Of living fire ? Have pity : I cannot look. 
 
 {Veils her eyes.) 
 ' Believe — endure ' ? Yea, to the end, the end, 
 That will I, thou beside me. 
 Kind Sisters of the Glory, succour me : 
 I kept the faith unbroken, and the vow. 
 . . . Ah, leave me not alone, stay with me yet, 
 
 {Reaches out her arms.) 
 Or bear me in your tender arms away 
 Where no more war is. . . . Gone ! O sorrow, sorrow ! 
 I would have wept my heart out at their feet, 
 Clutching those skirts of brightness — and 'tis gone. 
 
 {Rises.) 
 
scene v JOAN THE MAID 127 
 
 I'll go (for they will hear me still) and pray 
 Beside my harness in St. Denis' shrine. 
 
 (Goes to the shrine and kneels.) 
 
 Tremouille and Raimond enter the ante-chapel 
 
 Tremouille. We should make leisure, since our 
 talk is done, 
 To find the priest and view his treasures. . . . Ah ! 
 (Calls Raimond's attention to Joan in 
 distance.) 
 We should intrude to enter. Yet perhaps 
 The sight we chance on more concerns than all 
 St. Denis' heirlooms. Or how read you this ? 
 
 Raimond. My lord, I think the Maid would be 
 
 alone. 
 Tremouille. We will forbear. And yet one 
 word ; you note 
 How, dedicating here yon arms, she counts 
 Her soldier-mission done. 
 
 Raimond. It may be so. 
 
 Tremouille. 'Tis common knowledge; but she 
 seals it now. 
 And what were left to do, — for her, I mean ? 
 Raimond. Paris is left. 
 
 Tremouille. We clutched the fruit unripe. 
 
 'Twill fall, let pass a season. And the Maid 
 
128 JOAN THE MAID act h 
 
 Has taught us win. All else will come, and she 
 Will rest the while, — and keep a good knight's house. 
 May he be worthy ! Well, I go ; but you, 
 Doubtless, attend her. (Is going, but returns!) 
 
 Sir, occasion stays 
 For no man. Take an elder's word, and dare. 
 
 (Exit.) 
 Raimond. How meant he that? For may I 
 trust him ? Good 
 He is not, yet discerning. Loves her not 
 (How could he love a spirit sphered beyond 
 That measured field of statecraft where his own 
 Walks and is sure ?), yet her he hates not, me 
 Would prosper, as he deems prosperity. 
 .Sound earnest of his mind I have. And then 
 She has achieved ; he spoke but truth ; her hour 
 Of mission ends ; she is sweet Joan again, 
 A tender woman, and disarmoured, see, 
 Of that divine encompassment that held 
 Violence aloof and vileness. Ah, the fear ! 
 She knows it ; she will need me. Dare I will ! 
 
 (Joan rises and comes down the church.) 
 O heart, be strong to let me speak ! She comes. 
 A storm has swept those eyes, and leaves of it 
 But the clear shining after. (Joan reaches him.) 
 
 Maid, I wait 
 To be your comrade home. 
 
scene v JOAN THE MAID 129 
 
 Joan. Most timely met ! 
 
 Fain am I of a comrade. 
 
 Raimond. Say ye that ? 
 
 O 'tis an omen. Ere yon door is passed, 
 Joan, there's a word to speak, that must be spoke 
 Now — here. I have kept it silent week on week ; 
 It had been sin to utter. But the hour 
 O'ertakes us. You have laid your arms away : 
 God sets you free to rest ; but rest you cannot 
 Safe (nay, you know it) in our violent land, 
 Except — . O Joan, your servant am I, see 
 If I can knightlier serve, than with my life 
 Bar out your peril, — so you vouch the name 
 That makes my life your own. 
 
 Joan {takes his two hands and holds them). Why, 
 Raimond, this has happened in a dream 
 Long since. For dream it was ; a girl that sat 
 Beside a river, and a gallant boy 
 That would have offered love, but out of heaven 
 The scaring flame fell. It is safer here, 
 Under these arches, than the oaken bough ; 
 Yet perilous, if the kind saints look not on. 
 But now — sworn Maiden am I, sworn to them, 
 So long as God desire it. Yet I love, 
 — Yea, truly, after Christ and the pure saints, — 
 All men, and Raimond of our Domremy 
 The most. But how one woman loves one man 
 
 K 
 
i 3 o JOAN THE MAID act ii 
 
 No guess have I, long as God wills me Maid, 
 So help me Maid St. Catherine. And for this — 
 It is a dream, a dream come back again, 
 My friend, three summers after. 
 
 Raimond. Ay, a dream 
 
 That blasts your friend in breaking. 
 
 Joan. Raimond, why? 
 
 Raimond. Because the friend that dared be more 
 than friend, 
 Being forbid, must go, not help you more. 
 
 Joan. I will not suffer it ; you shall not go. 
 
 Raimond. How else? You cannot keep me 
 with you still. 
 
 Joan. Why not ? It was a dream that happened 
 here. 
 The dreamers will not tell, and none can know. 
 And the wise clerks, that write our time in books, 
 Will never write how the true Raimond loved 
 Idly, but nobly, and for France and God 
 Made love forbid die into faith, and wrought, 
 Beside his sister of the Holy Will, 
 All God's fair pleasure out. Is love so great, 
 So great a thing this love of man for maid, 
 That, breaking, it should break the man ? Ah ! no. 
 And, Raimond, there is left so much for us 
 To work together. They were here but now, 
 They said, ' Believe — endure.' They said not, ' Rest.' 
 
scene vi JOAN THE MAID 131 
 
 There. You have waked. It was a dream. Come on 
 Abroad, and look on a new morrow's face. 
 
 (Leads to the door.) 
 Raimond. I am yet more in dreams. Yet I will 
 come. 
 
 SCENE VI. — A Hall in the Castle of Sully 
 Tremouille reading a state-paper 
 
 Tremouille. I moved a thought too plainly. 
 Foiled once more 
 Is our Invincible ; but, if men see 
 The hand that foiled her — ? How mine own tame 
 
 bull 
 De Gaucourt snorts ! I wonder if his nose 
 Have found the ring in it I lead him by. 
 He scared our holy Regnault yesterday 
 With most indecent cursing for the stint 
 Of men and means to storm La Charite. 
 I moved too plain ; it must be covered. 
 
 Marguerite (entering). Sir ! 
 
 Tremouille. All at your service, damsel. 
 
 Marguerite. If it break 
 
 No secret, when shall I expect the Maid ? 
 
132 JOAN THE MAID act ii 
 
 Tremouille. I am left to guess. You also? 
 This is slack 
 Remembrance of her friends. 
 
 Marguerite. I think she had 
 
 No heart for messages. 
 
 Tremouille. You magnify, 
 
 Surely, her failure. 
 
 Marguerite. Hers ! We thought the blame 
 (What knows a woman ?) was the succourers. 
 They marched so late, 'tis murmured. 
 
 Tremouille. Talk they so ? 
 
 When was France beaten ever but the folk 
 Railed at their chiefs ? Our men are conquerable 
 Like others. 
 
 Marguerite. Not our maids, or so believe 
 The captains (what can women know ?) ; they say 
 The King should clear her name of the mischance. 
 
 Tremouille. Fair dame, we'll have you of the 
 council, you 
 So overtake our wisdom. Here's a scroll, 
 — No, for I must not show it — but it speaks 
 Your very mind out. 
 
 Marguerite. Then 'tis well : yet pity 
 
 That e'er we need it. Had La Charite 
 But been Saint Pierre again ! And wherefore not ? 
 Was Joan less forced with angels ? 
 
 Tremouille. Why, for me 
 
scene vi JOAN THE MAID 133 
 
 The muster roll of tramping men-at-arms 
 
 Is task enough ; these levies of the air 
 
 Baffle my reckoning. 
 
 Marguerite. Ah ! you did not laugh 
 
 When Gerard told the story. But I stay 
 
 Your business. 
 
 Tremouille. Damsel, no ; but as you will. 
 
 {She goes.) 
 
 ' The captains.' Ay, they speak their mind with her. 
 
 Am I so sure our Maid is conquerable ? 
 
 My love-trap has not snared her ; curse on him, 
 
 The maiden-mettled boy I lured her with. 
 
 And this defeat in field recoils on me. 
 
 See here : {Reads from the paper.) ' The King pro- 
 nounces graciously ' 
 
 (And I must prompt him to it, and write the same) 
 
 ' For late achievements of the Noble Maid, 
 
 Albeit of fortune crossed, without reproach 
 
 Of valour or of leadership, his thanks 
 
 Most full and loving ? ' Then she wins again. 
 
 There. (Tears the paper.) Could I tear the record 
 of her so ! 
 
 Could I but shred this bond of Maid and King 
 
 And burn it, as these tatters ! 
 
 (Throws the paper into the fire) 
 
 Fool ! 'Tis not like yourself, La Tremouille, 
 
 To ease your heart in fury : curse on her 
 
134 JOAN THE MAID act ii 
 
 That puts you to't. ' The captains ' ! Do they love 
 So well ? O yes, and there be captains too 
 Persuadable to hatred. Envy might 
 Do more than foemen to relieve us. . . . Ha ! . . . 
 Save she be charmed. . . . How could those English 
 
 else 
 Miss her, alone, under their bows, the rest 
 Run from her side ? . . . ' Her angels.' O, for- 
 sooth, 
 That fable thrives ; a ' fifty thousand,' was it ? 
 And not a sorry devil helping me ! 
 Too good belike, to earn it, I. My heart 
 In truth does something ail at moments when 
 I mark — . The spite of Heaven to tempt a man 
 So ! . . . But the girl must under and not I. 
 
 Gr-r-r- ! to go pen those loving thanks anew. 
 
 {Goes.) 
 
 SCENE VII.— A Room in Compiegne 
 
 Marguerite alone, working an embroidery 
 
 Marguerite {holding up the work to look at it). 
 Well, there's my Joan, done to the very spurs. 
 The sorry picture ! Who could work those eyes 
 With thread and needle ? But herself will come 
 
scene vii JOAN THE MAID 135 
 
 To-morrow. Lord ! and what a wheel is life ! 
 Here comes it round. Marguerite besieged again ; 
 Only the town is Compiegne ; and Joan 
 Rides in again to chase them. And the time 
 May-month again. All good begins with spring. 
 
 Enter Louis 
 
 Louis ! Joan's Louis here in Compiegne ! 
 Or is this Orleans, and the year a dream 
 I wake from where it started ? No, for you 
 Had redder cheeks last May-time. 
 
 Louis. Is it so ? 
 
 Well, Marguerite, I was sick a fortnight since, 
 And rose but lately. How you stared ! But I 
 Knew you should come from Sully with the Dame 
 Of Treves. O could you know how glad am I ! 
 
 Marguerite. Sick were you? That's amiss. But, 
 for the rest, 
 How like you the Archbishop ? 
 
 Louis. Like him ! Talk 
 
 Of something else. 
 
 Marguerite. Not I. Why like you not ? 
 
 Louis. He is so vain. 
 
 Marguerite. Why, so may good men be. 
 
 Louis. Well, then, he makes me carry in the book 
 Beside him at the vespers. 
 
136 JOAN THE MAID act ii 
 
 Marguerite. When of course 
 
 You would be quoiting. 
 
 Louis Rising and coming close). Marguerite, the 
 man — 
 I'll tell it you ; we are such friends — I say, 
 He is a devil in lawn and velvet : there ! 
 
 Marguerite (rising too, and taking his hand). 
 What is it, Louis, what is it ? 
 
 Louis. Judge yourself. 
 
 I waited as he supped ; the captain sat 
 Beside him (know you what this Flavy is ?) : 
 The people clamoured in the street : a voice 
 Rang thro' the casement, ' Send for Joan ; the folk 
 Will have their Joan to lead them.' O to see 
 Grow purple on Flavy's cheek the scar he got 
 In killing of young Thibault in the wood, 
 When — 
 
 Marguerite. What is that of Thibault ? 
 
 Louis. Ay, who knows ? 
 
 Men whisper Thibault's sister was too fair 
 And good, howe'er that made it. But he flushed 
 With envy ! Beast ! What cares he for the town 
 Except as Flavy's harvest-field that grows 
 A marshal-staff for Flavy. 
 
 Marguerite. Well, and then ? 
 
 Louis. He cursed her thro' the bristles on his lip, 
 Softly. The Archbishop (him I hate the worst) 
 
scene vii JOAN THE MAID 137 
 
 Waved his embroideries, eyed his ruby, said, 
 ' Humour your honest people ; let her come. 
 Always you are captain of our forces here : 
 They'll do or not do by your order, and she — 
 She is so headlong in the field.' And there, 
 Altho' I stood behind him, yet I knew, 
 His lashes lifted, and the captain's fell, 
 As if he thought on something. When he thinks, 
 Marguerite, 'tis always of a villainy. 
 
 Marguerite. You cast me in a terror. Four 
 days back 
 I know there came a post from Tremouille, 
 And very secret. Half an hour therefrom 
 Regnault was close with Flavy, came away 
 Smiling, as when he seals the last despatch 
 That fools Good Philip, and reconquers France. 
 O Joan, if Regnault be as vile as vain ! 
 But what to do ? 
 
 Louis. Let Guy that comes with her — 
 
 For you will wed him — no ? 
 
 Marguerite. Peace, Louis, on that. 
 
 (Aside) She'll not believe him — Tremouille's kin. 
 
 Ah yes, 
 Raimond, would Guy but help him ; — alack, but he 
 Is jealous — all my doing — fears I'll wed 
 Whichever of the two will help the Maid. 
 Certainly so I told him : silly one, 
 
138 JOAN THE MAID act ii 
 
 To take my word, when half a lover's eye 
 Might show him Raimond is a sillier yet, 
 And still goes hoping — Lord! the folly! — (turns to 
 
 Louis.) Yes, 
 Guy must be told, and Louis, do it you. 
 
 Louis. Soon said. But, if she come, my lord 
 will find 
 He cannot spare me from his side, the false, 
 Sleek, scented, satin-fingered, purring cat ! 
 O how I wish that I were wicked enough 
 To spice its fish some Friday ! 
 
 Marguerite. O sir knight ! 
 
 Louis (laughs). Yes, there's the pity. For what 
 other way 
 Has poor page Louis ? Well, no more of him. 
 We'll talk of Joan, from whom he carried me. 
 
 (Sits at her feet.) 
 That hateful Sully, could she brook it ? 
 
 Marguerite. No ; 
 
 So sore she fretted, that they set the cage 
 Open awhile. St. Pierre she took by storm, 
 And would have stormed La Charite, but then, 
 As one might loose a falcon in a string 
 And pluck it from the stroke, so they with her. 
 
 Louis. Who dared do that? 
 
 Marguerite. Why, Louis, to take up 
 
 Your dainty phrase about your friend in lawn, 
 
scene vii JOAN THE MAID 139 
 
 It was your devil-master's master-deviL 
 Now need I name him ? 
 
 Louis. No. 
 
 Marguerite. Nor name him you, 
 
 Sweet Louis, for your life's sake. 
 
 Louis. Well, and next ? 
 
 Marguerite. One morn in March she vanished 
 with her squires. 
 The King might whistle and the Councillor ; 
 Their bird would never come to wrist and wear 
 Their bells and jesses more. She sails the sky, 
 To soar and view and stoop and strike at will. 
 
 Louis. O glorious ! That was Joan. Ah me ! 
 to hold 
 A banner o'er the lion-hearted Maid, 
 And then a canopy for this prowling fox ! 
 Marguerite, for pity, stop my mouth, before 
 I break my dear lost lady's ordinance 
 With cursing — 
 
 Marguerite. And in time too. (Touches htm.) 
 
 Enter Flaw 
 
 Sir, you seek 
 The Archbishop ? He shall hear. , 
 
 (She and Louis are going.) 
 Flaw. No, pray you, not 
 
i 4 o JOAN THE MAID act ii 
 
 Leave your embroidering yet. His gentleman 
 
 Will pleasure us. (Louis goes.) Our Compiegne gives, 
 
 I fear, 
 Blank welcome to the dames whose visit finds 
 Our hands so full with Philip's. 
 
 Marguerite. There is one 
 
 Whose visit will be welcome more for Philip's. 
 
 Flaw. Ah, the Maid-Marshal. Do we count 
 her dame ? 
 She is rather for our wars than pleasures. 
 
 Marguerite. Yes. 
 
 Flaw. You speak as having marked it. 
 
 Marguerite. I, sir? No. 
 
 Only I heard that, when she tarried last, 
 Some revels of your Compiegne gallantry 
 Seemed — shall I say, too gallant ? — and she said it. 
 But, pardon ; let me seek the Chancellor, 
 Since Louis fails. (Aside) Folly, to prick him thus 
 Against her ! Yet to see him and forbear — 
 Who could ? (Exit, passing Regnault, who enters.) 
 
 Flaw. My lord, she comes to-morrow, as you 
 heard. 
 I take your counsel for the event of clash 
 Of Maid's and Captain's orders. 
 
 Regnault. You must walk 
 
 Warily, sir. The heads of captains sit 
 Loose on their shoulders now, since Franquet's fell 
 
scene vii JOAN THE MAJD 141 
 
 Upon the Lagny dunghill. And for what ? 
 
 Murder and plunder ? These are names of war. 
 
 Few leaders of our own dare cast the crime 
 
 At Franquet. Rape ? Sir, you will grant with me 
 
 Our own battalions are not monasteries. 
 
 It vastly pleased the Lagny rabble. Yes ; 
 
 Your folk adore her too. The precedent, 
 
 Which slays an officer at a rabble's nod, 
 
 Should make our leaders thoughtful ; they must do 
 
 So much a rabble cannot wisely judge. 
 
 I wonder now if it was all in jest 
 
 She warned Dunois, ' obey or lose his head.' 
 
 I am sorry, sir, for your embarrassments. 
 
 Flaw. I thank you much. They will sit 
 lighter if 
 You tender one assurance. Here to North 
 The Second Council is the King ; to you 
 Is my account to make. If any chance 
 (As with this frantic girl may happen well) 
 Cause her miscarriage, and the gutter yelps 
 For Flavy's blood, have I to fear or no ? 
 
 Regnault. O, she will not miscarry. Fear not 
 that. 
 
 Flaw. I do not fear it, — but it may befall 
 
 (A silence?) 
 Will my account in it stand safe with you ? 
 
 (A silence.) 
 
142 JOAN THE MAID act n 
 
 Regnault. De Gaucourt shut a door on her ; the 
 mob 
 Came nigh to stoning him. 
 
 Flaw. If /"shut doors 
 
 In duty's name, I'll front the mob, no fear, 
 So that they get not at my back. I ask, 
 Are you behind me, in that pinch, my lord ? 
 
 (A silence.) 
 
 Regnault. Why, that is just. 
 
 Flavy. Your hand on it, my lord. 
 
 SCENE VIII. — Compiegne. A Platform on the 
 Ramparts, looking over River. A Bridge 
 is seen below, with a Fortalice on the 
 farther slde, and beyond it a causeway 
 runs towards the positions of the bur- 
 gundians. 
 
 Joan scanning the country, and Soldiers 
 
 D'Aulon (entering). Your troop is mustered, 
 
 Maid, and at command. 
 Joan. Are ye well rested all ? 
 D'Aulon. As if the night 
 
 Had passed in bed, not saddle. 
 
 Joan. Well is that. 
 
scene viii JOAN THE MAID 143 
 
 This evening's gallop is not far, but fierce. 
 Look, D'Aulon. From this bridge the causeway runs 
 A straight mile thro' the floods, to where the Duke 
 Centres his host in Margny. More to right 
 Clairvoix is his, and to the left Venette 
 Lodges those English. All the camp's at ease, 
 Thinks the day done ; for see those strollers there, 
 And circles at the fires. When opes our gate, 
 We'll pounce ; and e'er they gather up their wits 
 Yon lilies flutter over Margny cross. 
 
 (Low applause ^Soldiers.) 
 
 D'Aulon. And after ? 
 
 Joan. There are scarce three hours to dusk. 
 
 We trench us strong in Margny, 'twixt their wings 
 Venette and Clairvoix. Hands they cannot join 
 Across our sword between. Let either stir, 
 As I do think for very fear they must, 
 To grope for his ally thro' darkness, we 
 Spring once again, and end them. Is it well ? 
 
 D'Aulon. As always. And we'll do it. Flavy 
 spares 
 Two hundred of his own. 
 
 Joan. 'Tis strong indeed. 
 
 Ourselves and our good friends of Compfegne 
 Stirrup by stirrup, who could stop the way ? 
 
 D'Aulon. He has lined the current left and right 
 the bridge 
 
i 4 4 JOAN THE MAID act ii 
 
 With archer-folk on barges, as you asked, 
 Against a need. 
 
 Joan. Good. ( Whispers) Is he honest then ? 
 
 D'Aulon. Who knows? None ever knew the 
 thoughts behind 
 That front of founded iron. 
 
 Joan. Well, to work. 
 
 Enter Raimond with his arm bound up 
 
 No, Raimond, no. How should your sword-hand 
 
 draw, 
 Fresh from that lance-thrust ? 
 
 Raimond. Yes, but let me see it. 
 
 Joan. Why, so you shall, as all will, from the wall. 
 No, friend ; at dawn you scarce could sit your horse. 
 I post you here. . . . My banner there ! 
 
 (They show it.) 
 The day 
 Comes round, — for is it not Ascension-eve? — 
 When first it looked on fight. {Aside) But where is 
 
 gone 
 The fair face under it once ? They steal my friends, 
 And hide them from me. (Looks towards town.) 
 
 Nay but that is strange ! 
 
 ( Waves her hand.) 
 Raimond. Whom see you yonder ? 
 
scene vni JOAN THE MAID 14S 
 
 Joan. See not you ? My stout 
 
 And tender knight of the White Banner, Louis. 
 He beckons from a window, where, I think,' 
 They prison him from speech with me. {Aside) 
 
 Farewell. 
 At feast to-morrow you shall sit by Joan. 
 {Aloud) We tarry. Hear Rolande, who stamps for 
 
 me 
 I' the gateway. Let them slip the bolts. My friends, 
 
 {To the people.) 
 Pray for us while you watch ; but ere I come, 
 Have out your gauds and braveries every one, 
 And drape your streets too. Let the ringers be 
 Your deftest, for I'll bring a noble guest. 
 
 {To the Soldiers.) 
 My men, be merry of your hunt to-day ; 
 We'll bring Duke Philip in to Compiegne ! 
 
 (Joan and Soldiers descend from the 
 ramparts?) 
 One of the Crowd. Make for the eastward 
 buttress ; there one sees 
 Down into Margny Market. 
 
 Another. Have with you ! 
 
 Raimond {left alone). Duke Philip ! Sooth, she 
 knows the fighting-man. 
 How the blithe vaunt will send the blood a-boil 
 Up the grim fellow's sword-arm to his hilt. 
 
 L 
 
i 4 6 JOAN THE MAID act ii 
 
 Duke Philip ! . . . And who knows ? . . . And, if it 
 
 falls, 
 O heaven and earth ! then are our wars at end. 
 It is but Philip weights the English scale. 
 We'd draw it in a twinkling. Raimond, then, — 
 Then Joan is free. Yea, ' while God wills me Maid ' ; 
 So went it. Heart, be still ! . . . And Tremouille 
 
 gives 
 The promise of his word with Charles for me. 
 A peer of France ! And then to lay the prize 
 Down at her feet, the crown of womanhood. 
 O heart, be still, I bid you, lest you burst 
 With throbbing o'er this tourney and the stake. 
 
 {He leans over the wall.) 
 Here come they thro' the port. With what a 
 
 stride 
 Moves the tall charger on the bridge ! I know 
 His great heart's beating to the banner's flap ; 
 The music of her bounding valour has set 
 His strong limbs dancing, as if air were filled 
 With trumpet-blowings, tho' no breath is blown, 
 So silent creeps the column to the shock. 
 
 (Guy, approaching, touches him.) 
 Ah, Guy, what is it ? 
 
 Guy. Would- 1 knew! but ill. 
 
 I was in Regnault's house ; young Louis caught 
 My hand in a dark passage, whispered quick, 
 
scene vin JOAN THE MAID 147 
 
 ' She is betrayed ; tell Raimond ; O keep eyes 
 On Flavy ' ; then he vanished, as my lord 
 Came from a creaking doorway. What's to do ? 
 
 Raimond. ' Betrayed,' — and ' Flavy ' ! Truth, he 
 hates her well, 
 So frank she was. But he would never risk 
 His town's best helper. 
 
 Guy. Does he think her that ? 
 
 Flavy will save it surely, but by Flavy : 
 She stands between the sunlight and his fame. 
 I cannot leave the charge I took of him 
 (Judge why he chose it) by yon counter-gate. 
 Watch you the bridge and port, O Raimond, watch ! 
 
 (Goes.) 
 
 Raimond. And Tremouille sent message, ere we 
 came, 
 Commending me to Flavy, let him know 
 The King had given me secret charge — O no ; 
 That child is stuffed with fears from some one's 
 
 hint, 
 Who scents the Captain's envy, dreams the rest. 
 Well, I will watch. Yet ill it were to break 
 With Tremouille by a fool suspicion, and wreck 
 Hopes that are Joan's if mine. . . . Their camp is 
 
 roused, 
 And swarming like an ant-hill stirred, but how 
 Disorderly ; she'll sweep it at a touch. 
 
148 JOAN. THE MAID act ii 
 
 Enter Jacques 
 
 Yes, Jacques, to watch is torture. 
 
 Jacques. 'Tis not that. 
 
 I cannot fathom yonder archer-folk, 
 That man the barges. I'd have had them drop 
 Cable, and cross, and hold a pole's length off 
 The meadow-bank. How shall they help us else, 
 If the pinch comes ? And, mark, sir, if the Maid 
 Be not at standstill. 
 
 Raimond. Jacques, go find me where 
 
 The Captain stands. (Jacques goes.) 
 
 I'll warn him. Yet I think 
 He's not the fighter, he, to leave a joint 
 Loose in his harness. . . . Brave ! They give again 
 Before us. Onward ! onward ! Yes, the Banner 
 Has cleared the meadow-belt that stayed us. 
 
 Scot {entering). Sir. 
 
 Raimond. You bring a message. 
 
 Scot. No. 
 
 Raimond. What would you then ? 
 
 Scot. They sent me from my post, Sir Raimond. 
 
 Raimond. Well ? 
 
 Scot. She had set me at yon outwork gate, that 
 guards 
 The bridge. It keeps their entry backward. 
 
 Raimond. Well ? 
 
scene vin JOAN THE MAID 149 
 
 Scot. They put the Captain's varlet in my place. 
 
 Raimond. What then ? 
 
 Scot. Red Gregory speared Sir Claude, they 
 say; 
 And Flavy would not hang him. 
 
 Raimond. Have you more ? 
 
 Scot. I saw the Maid go past me yestereve. 
 
 Raimond. You ! here in Compiegne ! She was 
 not come. 
 
 Scot. She passed me, sir, from left to right, her 
 hands 
 Bound. 
 
 Raimond. O, a dream ! I understood not. 
 
 Scot. Dream ! 
 
 Sir, I was sentinel on the bridge. The clock 
 Struck six. 
 
 Raimond. Ah, bowman, — then? 
 
 Scot. She passed again 
 
 From right to left, but shrouded ; and the shroud 
 A pillar of thick smoke. . . . Alack ! See there. 
 
 (Both look out towards Margny.) 
 They push us out of Margny. 
 
 Raimond. Help her Heaven ! 
 
 O yet she'll rally ! 
 
 Scot. Nay, but bring them back 
 
 Safe. 'Tis enough. She did from Noyon bridge 
 When our night-onset missed. 
 
ISO JOAN THE MAID act ii 
 
 Raimond. Ah ! that is she 
 
 Last, but for D'Aulon's roan abreast of her, 
 With Pothon, if I know him by the helm. 
 That sorrel is her brother's, is it not ? 
 
 Scot. Ay. They be half way home. And how 
 she holds 
 Her troop, unhurrying as a tourney-show. 
 
 Raimond. Yet the swords bite. Those troopers 
 of the Duke 
 Flinch, mark it ! from the grapple. All is well. 
 
 (Minstrel, unseen, is heard singing!) 
 
 Minstrel. 
 
 Is it man can prick the armour 
 
 Of the Lord? 
 Is it foe can reach to harm her 
 With the sword ? 
 Nay, 'tis hand of France can lure her, 
 Nay, 'tis friend can smite her surer 
 With the word. 
 
 Flavy (on the ramparts). Ho there, within the 
 
 gates ! Stand to the chains ! 
 Scot (aside). Is that the ' word ' ? (Aloud) There's 
 mischief, sir, abroad; 
 Can smell it on the wind. What means his sword 
 
 (Indicating Flavy.) 
 
scene vni JOAN THE MAID 151 
 
 Bared, see you, when no fight's afoot for us ? 
 
 I'll swear 'tis for some villain signalling. 
 
 Quick, sir, they're close ! Canst see the star 
 
 upon 
 Her charger's front. 
 
 Raimond (goes up to Flavy). Sir Captain, let me 
 take 
 A score of men to help her at the gate, 
 If there come trouble. 
 
 (Cries of crowd, ' We'll go, we'll go? ' Take 
 me, sir.') 
 Flavy. Could ye reach her now ? 
 
 Her troop has choked the bridge-head. 
 
 Raimond. Will you, then, 
 
 Signal your archers on the stream to shoot ? 
 
 Flavy. And riddle the fair lady and your friends ? 
 I pray you, sir, stand wide. You hinder me. 
 
 (They move apart). 
 Scot (whispers Raimond). God's name ! I see 
 it. He'll shut yon outwork door, 
 And leave the Maid afield. One thing's to do ; 
 Cry ' treason ' and rush down upon the gate. 
 The folk are with us, and one cry of it 
 Will hold the villain's hands. 
 
 Raimond (aside). And if it be 
 
 A folly, then I lose her. 
 
 Scot. Quick, O quick ! 
 
152 JOAN THE MAID ACT II 
 
 Raimond. Maid's men, around me ! Treason ! 
 there is treason ! 
 Follow me to the gate ! 
 
 Crowd. We will, we will ! 
 
 Treason ! a treason ! 
 
 (Raimond, going, is met by Flaw.) . 
 Flavy. How ! What hubbub's here ? 
 
 Raimond. There be false men among us; seize 
 
 them you. 
 Flavy. Sir, if I find them. Am I Captain here, 
 Or you ? To riot upon my walls ! And see, 
 
 (Points sword towards bridge-head?) 
 She's but a spear-length off the fortalice door : 
 She comes safe in. 
 
 Raimond. Ah, if it be but so ! 
 
 (Joan's voice heard?) 
 
 To me ! to me ! Rally, O rally ! 
 (A crash of tlie city gate closing.) 
 Raimond. God ! 
 
 The bridge is risen, — the fort is shut on her, — 
 They have her ! {Roar of Burgundians heard?) 
 
 Devil ! and you bade them do it. 
 Flavy. Ho there, arrest him ! 
 Crowd. Friend of the Maid ! Ye shall not. 
 Flavy. Sir, you are King's man, else — . When 
 gave I word? 
 They shut it in their fear ; the chance of war. 
 
scene vni JOAN THE MAID 153 
 
 I cannot parley ; to your stations all. 
 
 (Flaw, Soldiers, etc., move off. Raimond 
 and Scot remain!) 
 Scot. Sir, I will follow you to the world's end, 
 
 ay. 
 
 The very Devil's door, to get her back. 
 Raimond. Too late ! 
 
 Scot. And drink this Flavy's blood. 
 
 Raimond. Too late ! 
 
ACT III 
 
 SCENE I. — The Hall of the Castle at Rouen, 
 
 ARRANGED FOR A COURT 
 
 A few assessors already seated 
 
 Enter Isambard de la Pierre and a Doctor, 
 meeting. 
 
 Doctor. You, De la Pierre ! You did not sit 
 with us 
 Yesterday. 
 
 Isambard. Bitter loth I came to-day. 
 Think'st they will push it to the death ? 
 
 Doctor. How not ? 
 
 'Tis God or Satan speeds her. If the first, 
 Then damned is England for outfacing her. 
 If Satan, burn she must. And, to the herd 
 No proof of guilt will be one half so plain, 
 As being plainly burnt for it. Besides, 
 
scene l JOAN THE MAW 155 
 
 More price, more prized; and England bought her dear 
 (Think, 'twas a prince's ransom) from the Duke. 
 To buy the candle for the game, and then 
 Not light it, were unthrifty. No, she dies. 
 
 Isambard. That she should die by Frenchmen, 
 she the pride 
 Of France, if Frenchmen were their own again ! 
 
 Doctor. Treason, dear schoolfellow. But fear 
 not me : 
 Fear Cauchon. Ill it is to stand between 
 A hungry man and his — Archbishopric. 
 
 Isambard. Is that his wage? 
 
 Doctor. Why, yes ; his wage, until 
 
 Come wage-day. Then, — well, there's the Pope to 
 
 please 
 And dour dogs of the Rouen Chapter — Stay, 
 Yon patched gown of your Order creeping past, 
 Who is it? 
 
 Isambard. You to ask ! Lemaitre, the Vicar 
 Of the Holy Office, that will share the bench 
 With Cauchon. 
 
 Doctor. Bench ! the footstool, if you will. 
 
 Poor mole, how dazed abroad ! But he can blink 
 His mum assent to Cauchon's ay or no ! 
 And what is wanted more ? 
 
 Isambard. How went the Court 
 
 Those other sessions ? 
 
156 JOAN THE MAID act in 
 
 Doctor. Do not make me tell. 
 
 They bade her ('tis the touchstone for a witch) 
 Repeat the Pater Noster. She demurred. 
 It went against her reverence, as I think, 
 To do't in open court. But then she cried, 
 ' O Father, be my Confessdr to-night, 
 And gladly will I speak it.' Sir, to see 
 The sick squirm of our Is-to-be-Archbishop 
 Around the arrow where she lodged it in 
 What for another man had been the heart. 
 Faugh ! Do not ask me. Let us choose a seat. 
 
 (They move to the chairs!) 
 
 Manchon (affecting to inspect the secretaries' ' table). 
 Honest oak boards and not cloth enough to cover 
 a five-foot eavesdropper! Where are you and I to 
 hide to-day ? 
 
 Colles. Peace, friend ! Let a man forget it. 
 My hand smells of that job still. They'll come 
 hunting her to-day, not trapping. 
 
 Taquel. Ah, — say you ? 
 
 Manchon. What see'st ? 
 
 Taquel. Look not o'er your shoulder, and I'll 
 tell you. There's a curtain three parts across the 
 north window. 'Tis to keep the sun out at mid-day, 
 belike. And the Dame Seneschal's cat has kittened 
 in the fold of it ; or 'tis a man's elbow bulges it. 
 
 Manchon. Elbow ! Then square yours, my 
 
scene i JOAN THE MAID 157 
 
 masters, and fill your sheet with street-rhymes or 
 scrabble. Tis all one for the Process. 
 
 Taquel. And, by Beelzebub, that cursed Loiseleur 
 has his chair before the gap of it. But, Lord love 
 you, don't follow my eyes, or he'll scent that I scent 
 him. 
 
 Colles. Beelzebub douse him deep, when his 
 time comes ! He went nigh to damning you and me, 
 William, with that trick behind the arras, in the poor 
 wench's cell. 
 
 Manchon. Damned in good company, then ; 
 you in a bishop's lap and I in an English Millourt's. 
 
 Colles. Will she know her prison-fellow again in 
 his cassock ? 
 
 Taquel. Scarce that. Yet she might nose him, 
 if he had not taken a back seat on the far side of 
 Cauchon ; but that blinds the scent for her. Hush ! 
 
 Cauchon, with his principal assessors, enters and 
 takes his seat 
 
 Cauchon. Doctors and Reverend Sirs, I pay my 
 thanks 
 For your full muster here to-day, to God's 
 More glory. Next I welcome to his chair 
 My partner in this weighty charge, the Vicar 
 In Rouen of the Holy Office, whom, 
 
158 TOAN THE MAID act in 
 
 Now that his powers at last are warranted, 
 
 I thus present to you. We shall proceed 
 
 As heretofore by interrogatory 
 
 Of the accused. {An assessor whispers him.) 
 
 Ah ! you remind me well. 
 Stand forward, usher Massieu. 
 
 Massieu. Here, my lord. 
 
 Cauchon. It is reported you permit the girl 
 To worship in the Chapel. 
 
 Massieu. She did beg 
 
 A moment's stay in passing at the door 
 To see the Christ on the altar ; nothing more. 
 
 Cauchon. Suffer it on your peril, sir, again. 
 Go now and bring her. (Massieu goes.) 
 
 I have heard she cleaves 
 Still to the scandal of her man's attire. 
 
 Isambard {to Doctor). Less man, I fear me, 
 were less maid among 
 Such keepers, friend. 
 
 Doctor. O, he's an innocent, 
 
 Our Cauchon. How should he divine ? And she — 
 I think she'd easier burn than break it to him. 
 
 (Joan is brought in.) 
 
 Cauchon. Give her again the oath. 
 
 Joan. Have I not sworn * 
 
 Already ? 
 
 Cauchon. You shall swear again. 
 
scene I J.OAN THE MAID 159 
 
 Joan. Why then, 
 
 Again I say it ; I may not answer all, 
 But that which God allows me. 
 
 Cauchon. Swear to answer 
 
 Whatso concerns this trial. 
 
 Joan (touching the Book)., That I swear. 
 
 Cauchon. Now shall you tell us why you come 
 again 
 Clothed thus against the wont and modesty 
 Of woman. 
 
 Joan. God will have it. 
 
 Cauchon. God command 
 
 This shame of womankind ! 
 
 Joan. He knoweth why 
 
 Need is to wear it still. 
 
 Cauchon. Then you are charged 
 
 With bearing rings for blameful use. 
 
 Joan. Ah yes ! 
 
 My lord, you took the ring, my father's gift. 
 I pray you give't me back, or sell it you 
 To comfort some poor woman with an alms. 
 
 Cauchon. A tool of sorceries ! Heaven forbid ! 
 . . . They say 
 Your banner, Joan, had spells enwoven on it. 
 
 Joan. Spells? There was Jesu's name, and 
 Mary's there : 
 No more. 
 
160 JOAN THE MAID act hi 
 
 Cauchon. We know your soldiers made them 
 flags 
 After its pattern, and by charm of these 
 They won their fights. 
 
 Joan. O sirs, there was no charm. 
 
 I called,. ' Go in among yon English, friends,' 
 And I went in the foremost. That was all. 
 
 English Lord. Saint George ! A gallant girl ! 
 Were she but ours ! 
 
 Isambard (aside). She's ours; and thus we 
 honour her ! 
 
 Cauchon. 'Tis averred 
 
 They waved your banner at the sacring time 
 Over your prince's head. 
 
 Joan. I saw not that. 
 
 Cauchon. It stood beside God's altar, it 
 alone, 
 Of all your nobles' banners. Was it well ? 
 
 Joan. Yea ; it had seen the travail, was it not 
 Meet it should see the glory ? 
 
 English Lord. Brave again ! 
 
 'Swounds ! but she pays them rarely ! 
 
 Cauchon. Good my lords, 
 
 I must entreat you more respect the Court, 
 In justice' name. 
 
 English Lord (aside). 'Justice'! He means, 
 the Devil's ! 
 
scene I JOAN THE MAID 161 
 
 Manchon (to Taquel). Our Cauchon strutting 
 'neath an English nose ! 
 What makes the cock so pert ? 
 
 Taquel. Beshrew your tongue ! 
 
 Dost know how quick his ears are ? 
 
 Manchon. Do I not ? 
 
 So it be behind an arras. 
 
 Taquel. Fool, be still. 
 
 Cauchon. I charge the learned doctor John 
 Beaupere 
 To question further. 
 
 Beaupere. You shall tell me, Joan, 
 
 First of this Voice. 
 
 Joan. So that you ask me not 
 
 For things I may not speak. 
 
 Beaupere. When came it last ? 
 
 Joan. This morn, upon my waking. 
 
 Beaupere. Spake it near, 
 
 And in the room ? 
 
 Joan. I know not, but it spake 
 
 Somewhere within the Castle. 
 
 Beaupere. How mean you that ? 
 
 Joan. Like a great bell it came from everywhere. 
 
 Beaupere. And said ? 
 
 Joan. ' Be bold to answer them.' 
 
 Beaupere. No more ? 
 
 Joan. ' Be bold, for God is with you.' 
 
 M 
 
162 JOAN THE MAID act hi 
 
 (Turning to Cauchon.) Sir, my judge, 
 Have care of your own self. Indeed I come 
 From God, and sore in peril shall you be 
 Who judge me. 
 
 Cauchon (to Beaupere). Pass we forward. 
 Beaupere. Next I ask, 
 
 Hast ever seen his form that speaks with you ? 
 Joan. You mean the holy Michael ? 
 Beaupere. If't be he. 
 
 Joan. Of him I told you ; these men wrote it 
 
 down. v 
 Beaupere. Yet tell it once again. What form 
 
 had he ? 
 Joan. Manlike, but very noble. 
 Beaupere. And his voice ? 
 
 Joan. Was noble. 
 
 Beaupere. But his speech ? has ever spoken 
 
 In English tongue ? 
 
 Joan. My faith ! how would he that ? 
 
 He is not of the party of the English. ' 
 
 Manchon (to Taquel). Ah, but a hit for Joan, 
 in Cauchon's rib. 
 I'll score it on my margin. You shall see 
 He'll never air his English for a week. 
 
 Beaupere. You tell it all too barely. Was the 
 hair 
 Long, which he wore, and loose ? 
 
scene I JOAN THE MAID 163 
 
 Joan. I cannot say. 
 
 Beaupere. Well then, what fashion was he 
 clothed ? 
 
 Joan. Nor that. 
 
 Beaupere. Not that! Then, haply, was he 
 clothed at all ? 
 
 Voice. For shame ! 
 
 Another. A villain question ! 
 
 Joan. Do you think 
 
 God cannot clothe His Angels if He will ? 
 
 Voice. Well spoken, Joan. 
 
 Another. The Doctor has it. 
 
 Cauchon {angrily). Sirs, 
 
 I will have silence. Usher, note me you 
 If any break it. 
 
 Beaupere (continuing). Was it Michael then 
 Who brought your King the sign at Chinon ? 
 
 Joan. No. 
 
 Beaupere. Who then ? 
 
 Joan. I will not answer of the sign. 
 
 Beaupere. Nay, but you must. 
 
 Joan. If I should burn for it, 
 
 And here the doomsman stood to bear me off, 
 Nay, tho' he set his torch against the brands, 
 I would not answer what concerns my King. 
 
 Isambard. I pray you, my Lord Bishop, press it not. 
 She may in right refuse it. 
 
164 JOAN THE MAW act hi 
 
 Cauchon. I may waive 
 
 This question, pending counsel. Pass we on. 
 
 Beaupere. You swore to answer all that touched 
 the faith. 
 Then must you answer this : what doctrine ever 
 Imparts this Michael ? 
 
 Joan. But how mean you, sir ? 
 
 Beaupere. The Holy Ones should bring us truth, 
 then he — 
 What teaches Michael ? 
 
 Joan. O, a holy truth ! 
 
 He taught me sorrow for our woeful France ; 
 Sorrow and love for France. He said to me, 
 ' Be good and true* and where God sends you, go ; 
 Fear not ; such pity upon France has He.' 
 His voice was like all music as he spoke, 
 And like a river it uplifted me, 
 To bear me where he willed. I would that you, 
 You all could hear it ; you would pity then, 
 O surely, the dear land and love her, you, 
 Not trouble her with wars. See, here is Joan 
 Bound, and she cannot battle any more, 
 Only beseech you by the love of Christ 
 To love as He doth. 
 
 Cauchon. Shut her mouth ; no more ! 
 
 Notaries there ! 
 
 Colles. My lord. 
 
scene I JOAN THE MAID 165 
 
 Cauchon. Omittite: 
 
 Non tangit hoc processum. 
 
 Manchon (aside). Touches not 
 
 The trial ! Doth it not ? It touches me, 
 God wot, and shrewdly. 
 
 Joan (pointing). See, you make them write 
 
 What harms me; things that help, you leave un- 
 
 writ. 
 You sit to judge me here and are not just. 
 . . . Ah ! there will be deliverance. 
 
 Cauchon. Say you so ? 
 
 Your Voices promise this ? . . . But answer me ; 
 It is my question — 
 
 Joan. Does it touch my trial ? 
 
 Cauchon. How not ? It is your Voices that we 
 judge. 
 
 Joan. Why, see then that they judge not you. 
 They said, 
 ' You shall be freed by a great victory, Joan ; 
 Be fearless and of cheer.' 
 
 Cauchon. How read you that ? 
 
 Joan. I know not if yourselves will set me free, 
 Or God will break my prison. One of these. 
 
 De Fonte. Troth, Joan, you need not lie so long 
 in ward. 
 There is a better way. 
 
 Joan. Nay, tell me that. 
 
1 66 JOAN THE MAID act hi 
 
 De Fonte. That you submit yourself, your words 
 and deeds, 
 To Holy Church. 
 
 Joan. O but how gladly will I ! 
 
 For when have I done other ? Deed and word 
 God and the Saints have taught me every one. 
 
 De Fonte. You have not understood; I said 
 
 'the Church.' 
 Joan. God and the Church, it is all one for 
 
 us. 
 Manchon (aside). Poor child, to think it. 
 De Fonte. Joan, you have to know 
 
 There is the Church in heaven, the saints with God, 
 But here on earth is the Church Militant, 
 I mean the Pope and bishops and the priests, 
 And all good Christian folk. When these are met 
 Duly, God's Spirit guides ; they cannot err. 
 
 Joan (aside). These are the bishops and the 
 priests. O Christ ! 
 (Aloud) I will submit me to the Church of God. 
 Cauchon. To the Church Militant. 
 Joan (holding up her hand toward secretaries). I 
 
 said not that. 
 Cauchon. You shall submit you to the Church 
 
 on earth. 
 Isambard. Joan, to the Pope refer your cause, 
 the Pope. 
 
SCENE I JOAN THE MAID 167 
 
 Joan. Kind sir ; yes, yes, let the Pope try it, he 
 Will judge aright. 
 
 Cauchon. The Pope is far to seek. 
 
 The Holy .Office is the Pope in France. 
 I marvel, Friar, you dare, unasked of me, 
 . To counsel with the accused. Be warned. Again, 
 Joan, will you yield you to the Church or no ? 
 
 Joan. I told you I would yield to Holy 
 
 Church. 
 Cauchon. Why, then, to the Church Militant 
 Joan. I said 
 
 The Holy Church. It is the Church in heaven, 
 Christ, and the Virgin, and the blessed Saints, 
 And the pure Angels. 
 
 Cauchon. This is not to yield. 
 
 Once more I warn you mend your answer, girl. 
 Joan. I will not answer other. It is said. 
 
 {Buries her face a moment, then raising 
 her hand!) 
 It is enough. O send me back again 
 To God, who sent me hither. 
 Here have I nothing more to do, no more ; 
 Why should I tarry ? Send me whence I came. 
 
 (A silence in the Hall!) 
 Cauchon. Take her again to cell. The court 
 will rise. 
 Henceforth we need attendance but of those 
 
j68 JOAN THE MAID act hi 
 
 Whom I shall cite expressly ; all the rest 
 I leave to their affairs unburdened. 
 
 (They begin to go out.) 
 Manchon (putting up his writing). Ay, 
 The dark, the dark ! and, soft, we're off a-mousing ! 
 
 SCENE II.— The Prison of Joan. Early 
 Morning 
 
 Joan lying on her bed. A Soldier on guard 
 
 Soldier. Joan, I have good news for you this 
 morning. 
 
 Joan. O tell me. 
 
 Soldier. You shall have company again. 
 
 Joan. What company, then ? 
 
 Soldier. His that was here on Thursday for two 
 hours, and before that on Monday, the Lorrainer 
 prisoner. How ! Hast no thanks for that ? 'Tis 
 kind in the Captain to send a countryman here to 
 cheer you. 
 
 Joan. It is kind in him. (Aside) But the man 
 cheers me not : I am right sorry for his case, but I 
 cannot like him. 
 
 Soldier. He will come in no long time. Want 
 you aught ? We will leave you for the while. 
 
scene H JOAN THE MAID 169 
 
 . Joan. Ah ! friend, I thank you for that. 
 
 Soldier (aside). Poor wench, she may that. 
 Some of my mates here are ill mates for her, God 
 forgive 'em. But if she could smell out the devil 
 under the gaol frock of him that we bring her, she'd 
 like our company better. (Goes.) 
 
 Joan (sifting up on her bed). Weary, how weary 
 am I. Yet I slept 
 Long, if a sleep it was indeed, and not 
 A vigil of shut lids. ' Art thou so sure ? 
 Sure ? ' it went knelling like a woe-bell, ' sure ? ' 
 All the night through. And I am weak in sleep, 
 I could not dumb it. Can I dumb it now ? 
 They are all learned, they say they are the Church. 
 The Church is Christ and Mary and the Saints, 
 Michael, and Margaret, and Catherine. 
 They do not speak like this Church Militant, 
 But counter to it ; and they look, ah me ! 
 How otherwise ! kind eyes and true that gaze 
 Right down in my heart, like stars that look 
 Into the clear deep of a little well. 
 But those men's eyes are hard : they smite on me 
 Yet never enter in my heart at all 
 And see within it. O if they would see 
 God's message written there so plain, so plain, 
 They would not call me rebel to the Church. 
 Why will they call me rebel ? When have I 
 
170 JOAN THE MAID act hi 
 
 Been rebel to the Voices ? save indeed 
 For the mad leap from Beaurevoir. (I thought 
 They'd slaughter the poor babes of Compiegne, 
 If they broke in by lack of Joan : the Saints, 
 Though they forbade, I thought would bear me up.) 
 No, no, I am faithful daughter of the Church, 
 The holy Church, the Church that is in heaven, 
 The Church that is within me, yea, within : 
 Ah ! blessed Lord, within. 
 
 Yet ' Art thou sure ? ' Joan shall be freed, they said, 
 
 By a great victory : very clear they said it. 
 
 And I twelve dreadful moons a prisoner ! 
 
 Christ, if they cannot do it — . 
 
 For still they come, ah me ! but paler now, 
 
 As in a cloud ; and still they speak, but dumb 
 
 As one that hails a drowner under wave. 
 
 If they should cease ; if these great doctors spake 
 
 Truth, when they called them dreams ! O God my life, 
 
 I stretch my arms to find Thee : will the earth 
 
 Stagger and crumble under, drop me down 
 
 Out of Thine hand, out of Thine eyes, beyond 
 
 Thy knowing, into nothingness ? O Thou, 
 
 Who livest ever, reach a hand and hold. 
 
 Yea, 'tis the doubts are shadows, not the Saints. 
 They will deliver. 
 
scene ii JOAN TH$ MAID 171 
 
 Enter behind her Raimond, disguised. He stands a 
 moment 
 
 Raimond. You give me not good morrow, gentle 
 dame. 
 
 Joan. I thought you were that prisoner from 
 Lorraine : 
 You are other by the voice. 
 
 Raimond. Your ears are true, 
 
 As, God be thanked, your keeper's are not. Maid, 
 Give wonder not a word, but look. 
 
 (Discovers himself?) 
 
 Joan. A friend ! 
 
 The wonder is too wonderful for word. . . . 
 But come you here as captive ? 
 
 Raimond. Yea and nay. 
 
 I pass for that mock-captive whom they bring 
 To trap your franker speech, and guide the judge 
 Where he may probe you deftest. Let him not 
 Know himself known, yet foil him all you may. 
 That first. And then — O have you hope : Xaintrailles 
 Gathers a force to Beauvais ; when he strikes 
 'Twill be to clutch some captive of their best 
 — Yea, Bedford's self, if he ride loosely fenced — 
 And hold him for your ransom. Last, if this 
 Too slowly ripen, here in Rouen are 
 
172 JOAN THE MAID act hi 
 
 Four that have made adventure with myself, 
 By harbourage of secret friends of France, 
 To spirit you out of ward, or as you pass 
 From cell to judgment hall. I came to seek 
 Guidance for hour and place and shift from you. 
 
 Joan. Friend beyond speech, what thanks to 
 render ! 
 
 Raimond. None : 
 
 Or these — to teach us how to steal you forth. 
 
 Joan. How shall I? Hate has ears and eyes 
 and hands 
 Jealous and quick as love's. Never a slip, 
 A doze, a nod, a dally. You would beat 
 Your lives out on my cage, not open it. 
 
 Raimond. Our lives out ! Blithely, if the price 
 be this. 
 
 Joan. Ah ! but to pay the price, yet — . Tell me 
 why 
 You risk dear life even now to speak with me. 
 Did the King bid you venture ? 
 
 Raimond. Maid, the King 
 
 Does nothing, lacking Joan at side. 
 
 Joan (pauses). Alas ! 
 
 But the dear folk of France ? 
 
 Raimond. My tongue is shamed 
 
 To tell how they are silent. Tremouille rides 
 High like a hawk, and all beneath are stilled. 
 
scene ii JOAN THE MAID 173 
 
 Joan (after a pause). Then you, why did you 
 dare it ? 
 
 Raimond. Ask me not. 
 
 And yet I'll tell. It was the bitter shame 
 That wrung me on that wall in Compiegne. 
 I sinned, I too, the traitor-sin, for I, 
 Trusting the traitors, lost you. All my blood 
 Poured out in peril, could it wash my veins 
 Pure of the shame that poisons them ? 
 
 Joan. My friend, 
 
 You shall not wrong, even you, the truest heart 
 That beats in France. A blindness is not sin. 
 And, if it were, shame would not bring you hither. 
 Men will not be so brave for only shame. 
 
 Raimond. Joan, a man could not choose but 
 come. 
 
 Joan. Yet they 
 
 Choose, all men, to abide at home, for me. 
 You have not told me yet. 
 
 Raimond. Why, then, I cannot. 
 
 Joan. But, Raimond, Joan can tell it you. The 
 day 
 Is not so far since Raimond told his heart. 
 That which has risked you here — men call it love. 
 
 Raimond. You shall not say it ; I vowed it should 
 not be 
 Breathed by us here, nor thought. Am I so vile ? 
 
174 JOAN THE MAID act hi 
 
 All hope of guerdon, like a vice, I slew- 
 First ere I ventured. Should the Maid of France 
 Buy freedom at a price ? Forget your word. 
 I am not so ill a scholar of the Maid. 
 
 Joan. Sweet saints, how wondrous is this love 
 of man, 
 Which yet ye never told me of ! It takes 
 Men by the hand and leads them up to death, 
 As if it were that strong love known of us 
 That taught all deeds of mine. And yet to me 
 Strange is it, or — I shudder — a beast of prey 
 
 With eyes of hunger tethered near me 
 
 {Catches at Raimond as if in fear.} 
 
 Raimond. Joan, 
 
 You shall not linger in this devils' den. 
 Is there no God in earth, then ? 
 
 Joan. Yesterday 
 
 I could have asked it, friend : but here this hour 
 Stand you beside the lonely one, a man, 
 And in your eyes of man the eternal love 
 Written. I know there is a God on earth. 
 All is well now, yea, though we died to-day. 
 
 Raimond. I can die, Joan, with you : but O not 
 here. 
 Not here, but where the loudest and the last 
 Of battles hurls those island archers off 
 The vesture-hems of France : O there we'll end 
 
scene II JOAN THE MAID 175 
 
 Among the lightnings, Maid, and holy fire 
 Of God, as we began it. 
 
 Joan (to herself). Ay, they said, 
 
 ' By a great victory.' Wherefore is it, I 
 Cannot believe ? 
 
 Raimond. Our time is growing short. 
 
 Consult how we may steal you. 
 
 Joan. Peace ! He comes. 
 
 Stay, I will tell. 
 
 Soldier re-enters 
 
 Good keeper, give us yet 
 One moment's speech before you lead him back. 
 
 (Joan and Raimond converse in whispers.) 
 
 Soldier (aside). It turns an English stomach 
 when they set 
 Yon knave to trap her thus. The Fowler, ha ! 
 For that's his name by meaning : mighty fit. 
 He's lured the poor bird to his nets at last, 
 'Tis easy seen. But I could baulk him yet 
 Of this last secret. Stay : for all is one. 
 She must come to it at end : what matter how ? 
 But I like ill to watch it. (To Raimond) Bide awhile 
 Longer : I leave you. (Goes out.) 
 
 Joan (aloud). 'Tis a chance, no more. 
 
 Raimond. But we will make it more. 
 
 Joan. I think not so. 
 
176 JOAN THE MAID actiii 
 
 Raimond. You, Joan, to be the doubter ! 
 
 Joan. Other times 
 
 I have seen, as in a picture, all my haps. 
 Joan in her armour again — I see not her. 
 
 Raimond. Yea, we'll not risk the Maid in fight, 
 but keep 
 Beyond the shot of malice. She will send 
 Her soul beside us into battle. 
 
 Joan. Yea, 
 
 That I can image. That will be. But now 
 Take farewell of me, ere he come again. 
 Perhaps for all your boasting, we shall take 
 Never another. 
 
 Raimond. Joan, if I have dared 
 Aught, it was taught me by yourself, and you 
 To daunt me thus ! It is the prison shades 
 Darken your spirit. 
 
 Joan. Is it dark ? Ah no. 
 
 A light is growing in me, while we talk, 
 Dim, but it pierces. There's some other way 
 Of the great victory, Raimond. . . . 
 This is the price, my soul, it is the price. 
 
 Raimond. What mean you ? 
 
 Joan. That the Maid shall die, because 
 
 Without her death there had not been her deed. 
 Did not those iron hearts of England break 
 By their own fable that I fought from hell ? 
 
scene ii JOAN THE MAID 177 
 
 And by that fable must I perish now. 
 
 They dared not face me, for they thought me witch ; 
 
 And, for they think me witch, they dare not spare. 
 
 Raimond. What hell is black enough for the lie 
 that links 
 Hell's name with thine ? 
 
 Joan. My foes have cause to hate. 
 
 My countrymen, what do they ? 
 
 Raimond. Spare us, Joan. 
 
 'Not all forget thee. 
 
 Joan. See, again, the price. 
 
 I saved them by the name of Heaven : how else 
 Had the French heart gone with me up the walls ? 
 Our counsellors love not the name of Heaven ; 
 Had saved me, were't an earthlier. 'Tis the price. 
 
 Raimond. O you have paid that price a hundred 
 times 
 Already in this horror ; you have been 
 Martyr of France enough. You shall not die 
 For fancies. Maid, it is an idle thing 
 I plead (you gave it speech ; I shamed to do it), 
 Yet by the love that is come here to die 
 If death could win the Maiden's life^ O yet 
 Be brave to live ; let not my love be vain. 
 
 Joan (taking his two hands). Can love be vain ? 
 O, then, of friends the first 
 And last of all, believer to the end, 
 
178 JOAN THE MAID act hi 
 
 Listen. They call me on the tongues of men 
 
 The Maid : those Others have another name, 
 
 ' Daughter of God ' : they ever hail me so ; 
 
 ' Daughter of God.' Then in my Father's house 
 
 Shall I be given in marriage, by His hand, 
 
 Or howsoe'er the just are joined in one. 
 
 Who knoweth, Raimond, that thy love was vain ? 
 
 ... I hear the step that parts us. Guard you heaven 
 
 Safe hence from their espial ! Nay, no word. 
 
 (Raimond kisses her hand. The door 
 opens, and he goes away with the 
 Soldier.) 
 Joan (turned towards the door, listening). Down 
 . . . down . . . the foot goes down the 
 tower, and out : 
 Out of my life. Last of my friends. Had I 
 So spoken, if I be to speak again 
 On this side of the door of death ? Ah ! no. 
 There's no man will deliver Joan. 
 
 {Low music. The room softly illumined!) 
 Who spake ? 
 
 (Turns) 
 Who ? . . . For thou art not Michael of the sword. 
 I know thee not. . . . And yet I fear thee not, 
 Being so gentle. 
 
 Nay, by the maiden lily, art thou he 
 That hailed the maiden-mother ? 
 
scene ii JOAN THE MAID 179 
 
 O holy and O tender, if thou hast 
 
 For me some word of comfort, even me, 
 
 Speak comfort, tell me what shall be the end. 
 
 {Kneels!) 
 Deliverance ? Those others promise it 
 So oft, yet am I not delivered. . . . Ah ! 
 Shall I be that, and surely ? Bear me then 
 Thither, O brother of the skies. . . . Alas, 
 Not yet ? What have I more to work on earth ? 
 ... To suffer.? Is not this to suffer ? See, 
 The chain, the lonely dark, those hungry eyes. 
 . . . How say'st ? It must be by the fire ? Not that ! 
 Ah, no, no, no, not that ! 'Twere easier die 
 Seven times by steel in battle than by fire. 
 This virgin and untainted flesh of mine, 
 What hath it done that it must burn to ash ? 
 O seraph of the tenderness of God, 
 Pity me, pray the kind God ask not that. 
 
 (Lies prostrate : then rises to her knees.) 
 Ah, what is this ? Over me went his wing, 
 Flame, and it slew not. O, it wrapped me round 
 With the embrace of God : it leaves my heart 
 Flaming ; it slays in it the fear. Behold 
 The handmaid of the Lord. I'll come to thee, 
 Yea,, thro' the fire, great brother, thro' the fire. 
 
180 JOAN THE MAID act in 
 
 SCENE III.— Sully. A Room. 
 Tremouille and Regnault 
 
 Regnault. And have you further news of her ? 
 
 Tremouille. Ah! no; 
 
 But shallhave. 
 
 Regnault. Arid your forecast of the event ? 
 
 Tremouille. Like all the world's — her death. 
 
 Regnault. A cruel end. 
 
 Tremouille. You thought not to advise De 
 Flavy so, 
 In time. 
 
 Regnault. How mean you that ? 
 
 Tremouille. O be discreet : 
 
 We name it not between us. Yet I ask, 
 Have you foreseen the sequel, if the girl, 
 Seeing the faggot near, should — speak at last ? 
 
 Regnault. What should she speak ? 
 
 Tremouille. The thing we do not name 
 
 Between us. It may touch your honour, friend. 
 
 Regnault. Mine ! You were with me. 
 
 Tremouille. You misspelt, I say, 
 
 My letter. Read, and own it so. Besides, 
 There's a broad letter that denounces her, 
 Yours, on her capture. O, the folk are dumb, 
 
scene in JOAN THE MAID 181 
 
 Not dullard : they will bring their murdered saint 
 To lay her down at her Archbishop's door. 
 
 Regnault. La Tremouille, what would you goad 
 me to? 
 
 Tremouille. Could you not buy her — for a 
 nunnery ? 
 
 Regnault. Why that ? 
 
 Tremouille. The silence. 
 
 Regnault. Ha ! . . . but will they sell ? 
 
 Tremouille. You go to market late ; but, as I 
 hear, 
 The Church is claimant for her. Help the Church 
 To bury her — unburnt. 
 
 Regnault. The English ? 
 
 Tremouille. Yes, 
 
 It baulks them of the bonfire. Then the price 
 Must 'quite them. O, you will not grudge the cost 
 For the Archbishop's name and sanctities. 
 But lose no hour : it hangs in dainty poise, 
 As say my agents. 
 
 Regnault. It shall go to hand. 
 
 And yet it will not speed. (Is going, but turns) O 
 
 Tremouille, 
 Why did you hate her so ? 
 
 Tremouille. And why again, 
 
 Regnault, will you miscall a coldness, hate ? 
 I am no priest : the Saints are none of mine. 
 
182 JOAN THE MAID act hi 
 
 Regnault, (aside). Had I but seen her face at 
 
 Compiegne 
 Before— O God ! (Goes.) 
 
 Tremouille. It will not speed — with htm. 
 
 (Moves to the fireside!) 
 It is the very curse of villainy 
 You cannot ease heart-sickness on the ear 
 Even of your brother-villain, even his : 
 Nay, tho' your brother-villain be the priest. 
 . . . There was a woman burnt when I was 
 
 young. 
 I saw the fire upspurt, I heard her shriek. 
 God's death ! it tore my bowels. And to me 
 The wretch was nought ; I had no hand in it. 
 . . . Yonder's the chair she sat in, and my child 
 Upon her lap : the imp, he pulled her down, 
 Kissed her, and laughing round upon me, cries, 
 ' Father, you cannot love the Maiden Joan 
 As baby George can love her.' — Cursed chance 
 That brought her meddling hither ! 
 
 Enter Raimond 
 
 Ah ! so soon ! 
 You will be wearied with the journey, sir. 
 Doubtless your news will wait. 
 
 Raimond. If Death would wait. 
 
 If you are minded help her, move at once. 
 
scene in , JOAN THE MAID 183 
 
 Tremouille {aside). Rude, on my faith. But 
 can I spare him yet ? 
 ■ (Aloud) How I am minded, sir, my messenger, 
 Who brought you back, instructs you. But the means 
 Are in dispute. Your counsel. 
 
 Raimond. Fight for her, 
 
 And treat ; the twain together. Troops afield 
 Will weight the scale of ransom till it sinks, 
 And lifts Joan out of prison. 
 
 Tremouille. Eloquent, 
 
 Even in your ruffled moments ! Your advice 
 Is spark to tinder. I had planned the march 
 Of strong battalions to the Beauvais camp. 
 
 Raimond. And will they come ? 
 
 Tremouille. I said it. 
 
 Raimond. Pardon me ; 
 
 ' Planned ' was your word. It is a year too late 
 For planning ; and the days are scant to do. 
 
 Tremouille. The trial draws to close, then ? 
 
 Raimond. Hour by hour 
 
 Expect it. 
 
 Tremouille. But she makes a stout defence. 
 The King — how fares it with his credit there ? 
 
 Raimond. She speaks no word to his dishonour, 
 nay, 
 Nor lets be spoken. 
 
 Tremouille. And the Council ? . . . Ah, 
 
184 JOAN THE MAID act hi 
 
 We know our helplessness may seem neglect, 
 Yet— 
 
 Raimond. Of the Council she has said no word 
 
 Tremouille. None ? 
 
 Raimond. She has hope they will deliver her. 
 
 Tremouille (after a moments pause). Sir, I shall 
 post this warrant for the march 
 While you are resting. 
 
 Raimond. I return this hour. 
 
 Tremouille. It will outrun you northward. 
 Speed you well. (Raimond goes.) 
 
 The hound ! And I must brook his insolence, 
 As if 'twere fawning. When the hunt is done, 
 The lash for him. (Goes to table and begins to write.) 
 These musters, then. He spoke 
 Good sense enough : the troops afield will help 
 
 Our paltering Regnault, if (Stops the pen.) 
 
 The folly of it ! 
 Wilt write thy powers death-warrant, then ? The host 
 That saves, reseats. Joan with the King again ! 
 Joan and La Tremouille beside him ! No. 
 I cannot look upon the face of her 
 Now. (Throws down the pen.) God in Heaven, 
 some other way of it ! (Buries his face.) 
 
 Good Angels, keep her silent to the end ! 
 
scene iv JOAN THE MAID 185 
 
 SCENE IV.— A Kitchen in Rouen 
 Jacques and Minstrel seated 
 
 Minstrel sings 
 
 Flutter and beat on thy bars, O dove, 
 
 Child of the field and the sky ! 
 Beat, or brood in the dark thereof, 
 
 Listing if Death draw nigh. 
 Wings to hover and bless were thine ; 
 
 But where is the wing to flee ? 
 O White Dove of the Pity divine, 
 
 And who hath pity of thee ? 
 
 Jacques. No more, Minstrel, no more ! Have 
 not you and I pity of her, and two more ? 'Tis nigh 
 as many as stuck to her by the ditch of St. Pierre. 
 
 Minstrel. O you were there,, Jacques. Tell 
 me again. 
 
 Jacques. They had run and left her, the rest of 
 them. Then comes DAulon, lol-lolloping up (he'd 
 thrown his crutches down to climb a-horseback) and 
 croaked out, ' What was she doing there all alone ? ' 
 Then she upped visor and answered him, ' Nay, friend, 
 for I have fifty thousand here ' ; and while he was 
 dazing round to count us (six we were all told, till an 
 
1 86 JOAN THE MAID act in 
 
 arrow knocked young Andre out of the reckoning) 
 she sang out, ' Ho there ! to the faggots, every one ! ' 
 and, Lord's my life ! they came swarming out of cover 
 ugain as if she had shaken a hive, and filled the ditch 
 up, and went over, and in, before the Godons could 
 loose three shots from the mangonel. Minstrel, when 
 we were through, I sat and clutched a battlement to 
 steady my whirls : I was clean drunk with the pure 
 wonder of it. Heyday ! Yet I would the Scot were 
 home from Beauvais. 
 
 Minstrel. He is in the street. 
 
 Jacques. How ? Canst hear him ? 
 
 Minstrel. Not yet ; but he is nigh. 
 
 Jacques. Thou hast a touch of her gift, like the 
 Scot. Sooth, I can prophesy now, for I know that 
 footfall. 
 
 Enter the Scot 
 
 {Aside") Glum enough ! He has not sped. 
 {Aloud) Your news is bad. 
 
 Scot. Ah ! So ye ken that ! Well, the worse 
 the news, the mote need to wet lip first. I have 
 not eaten these twelve hours. 
 
 (Minstrel gets him food!) 
 
 Jacques. But are they coming ? Ay or No? 
 
 Scot. Let a man be. {Begins to eat.) But I can 
 listen. How goes it with her ? 
 
scene IV JOAN THE MAID 187 
 
 Jacques. Very nigh killing, last Thursday. They 
 had her abroad on a stage, and all the reverend doctors 
 and the English Cardinal on another; and Brother 
 Erard preached her his best for half an hour by the 
 market-clock. Lord, but she spoilt his chant once ! 
 
 Scot. Ay, how? 
 
 Jacques. Why he was running up the scale about 
 the ' noble house of France,' and what shame it was 
 it should be abused by the heretic woman, and how 
 the King was become a heretic by her, when there 
 broke in that clear voice of hers with the child-music 
 in it, that I thought never to hear again : ' By my 
 faith, sir, and I say it on pain of my life, he is the 
 most Christian of all Christian men.' 
 
 Scot. Ah ! that was Joan ! What did Erard ? 
 
 Jacques. Bit at her and bawled like a parrot to 
 ' shut her mouth.' It was too late ; she had cracked 
 his trumpet for him, and the folk were jogging one 
 another's sides and laughing under their palms. 
 Then the reverend sirs began to get restive, the 
 Cardinal's folk cursing the Bishop, and he spitting 
 back, till I whispered old Pierre, ' Three minutes more 
 of this, and we shall see these grand sirs tearing their 
 collars between them.' The folk began to bustle too, 
 and a stone or so came off the crowd and rattled on 
 the scaffold-poles over Cauchon. I take it 'twas the 
 English cast them. 
 
1 88 JOAN THE MAID act hi 
 
 Scot. Nay, they had made better shooting ; 'twas 
 your own folk, Jacques. And then ? 
 
 Jacques. Why, then the doctors fell together 
 again by falling all upon Joan, and they so belaboured 
 her with shouts and threats to unsay her saints and 
 voices, that at last — well, anyway she's alive yet and 
 safe. 
 
 Scot. Ah ! what said she ? 
 
 Jacques. There was old Fire -the -faggot in his 
 death-cart under the scaffold ready to take her off and 
 burn her, except she abjured. St. Nod, he was as 
 bleached as his own wood ashes, and shook as if it 
 was himself must ride the back seat, not she. Then 
 Massieu, that keeps her on the Court days, prayed her 
 for the love of God to say Ay. So she nodded ; and 
 a clerk of the Cardinal's whipped a slip of parchment 
 out of his sleeve the size of a batten, and she spoke 
 the words after him that read it, and then marked it 
 with a pen. She smiled all the while, and some cried 
 she was but mocking them, but it seemed to me she 
 was in a dream, like my Catharine, when she walked 
 in her sleep, and I stayed her at the window-sill. 
 
 Scot. But she lives, she lives ? 
 
 Jacques. Yes, they had her back to 
 
 Scot (springing uj>). God's mercy! Then she 
 shall live to unsay the unsaying of it. 
 
 Jacques. What's this, man ? 
 
scene iv JOAN THE MAID 189 
 
 Scot. It's Xaintrailles and seven thousand stout 
 fellows behind him knocking at the prison-door this 
 day se'nnight. 
 
 Jacques. St. Thunder ! and you ate your supper 
 and never told us. 
 
 Scot. You told my news before me, did ye not ? 
 And could I speak it myself till I knew it was worth 
 the telling? But he's, coming, friends, he's coming, 
 and Monday night next you and I will slip the bolt 
 to him. 
 
 Jacques (embracing him). God love you, God love 
 you, for the best Frenchman in broad France. Tell 
 us it all. 
 
 Scot. Ay, - when ye give me the breath back : 
 I'm ill at your foreign beloverings. I say Xaintrailles 
 will be seven thousand strong at the week end, and 
 he is to make a night march in her old style on 
 Monday : and if we four, with a friend or two, cannot 
 cut up a postern's guard when they whistle us outside, 
 and man the gate for King Charles and the Maid, 
 then we be grown rusty with hiding. Hey ! to think 
 I may have my shot yet at Brown Robin ! 
 
 Minstrel (murmuring). 'O a maid shall have 
 might on the arrow, the arrow.' 
 
 Jacques. Go on, Scot ; don't stay for him. 
 
 Scot. One thing I like ill. There's with them 
 in camp the doited creature of a prophet they picked 
 
190 JOAN THE MAID act hi 
 
 off a sheep run ; says ' God sent him in place of Joan, 
 for she was so proud.' God send him further, say I. 
 He is like her as apes be to men, or polecats to lions. 
 (He draws out a picture from his breast 
 and looks at it.) 
 Jacques. What hast there ? 
 Scot. Her likeness is it ; I had it from a clansman. 
 He made it at Rheims, and gave it me when he died 
 coming back from Noyon bridge. Look there ! and 
 they to go after that blear-eyed sheep's head with his 
 mouth ajar ! 
 
 . Jacques. Let him serve till she's a-horseback. 
 Here's to Charles and the Maid ! Charles and the 
 Maid ! (Drinks.) 
 
 Enter Raimond 
 
 Drink, sir, drink to the Maid. They are here 
 in a week. 
 
 Raimond. A week ! 
 
 Jacques. What ails you, sir, to look that-wise ? 
 
 Raimond. A day were too late, now. 
 
 Jacques. Love o' God ! How is that ? 
 
 Raimond. They will do her to death to-morrow. 
 
 Jacques. Nay, they gave her her life for unsaying 
 her visions. 
 
 Raimond. She hath unsaid it back again. And, 
 more, they found her in man's dress again, and that is 
 
scene iv JOAN THE MAID 191 
 
 heresy, sajth the Bishop. God's curse on these devils 
 in gowns ! {Fiercely) Scot ! 
 
 Scot (turning to him). Ay. 
 
 Raimond. Thou said'st thou would'st go with me 
 after her to death's door. 
 
 Scot. I'll go that far. 
 
 Raimond. We must go farther, belike — and 
 thro' it. 
 
 Scot. Small's my care for the soldier trade, if she 
 be out of it. I'll not stint you, sir. 
 
 Jacques. Nor I. 
 
 Minstrel. Nor t. 
 
 Raimond. Then listen. They must bring her 
 past Pierre's doorway here, and this is the very warren 
 of Rouen. Once past the door and thro' a passage 
 or two, there's a week's hiding here. The Minstrel 
 and Jacques shall wait here in the doorway, while the 
 Scot and I snatch her from the cart. They will let 
 me near the wheels to speak with her, for I will wear 
 the gear I played Loiseleur with. Then when I lift 
 her, strike you in right and left, Scot, while I give her 
 to the Minstrel and Jacques keeps the door. Then, 
 afterwards, fall it as it may fall. 
 
 Scot. 'Tis likeliest we shall fall. But we'll die 
 for her before "she shall die for France. 
 
 Raimond. There's a hope, friends, yet. There is 
 a hope. 
 
192 JOAN THE MAID 
 
 SCENE V. — Outside the Gate of Prison 
 
 Crowd of poor men and women, with candles, praying 
 and chanting the ' Miserere.' Raimond and Scot 
 standing near. 
 
 First Woman. Canst hear, if they be chanting 
 yet ? I think 
 'Tis ended. 
 
 Second Woman. Never Mass again for Joan, 
 Saving they say it yonder with the Saints. 
 
 First Woman. Is she not damned for heresy ? 
 
 Second Woman. You to say it 
 
 That have a daughter! Damned? the child that 
 
 took 
 Clothing of man to keep her maidenhood. 
 The martyr of all maids, say I. 
 
 Third Woman. But say it 
 
 Low, gossip, lest the soldiers hear you. See, 
 The deaths-cart. Lord have pity on her soul. 
 
 Enter Soldiers, and take up stand at gate 
 
 (Raimond, disguised as in Scene II, 
 approaches one of them.} 
 Raimond. Art he they call Brown Robin ? 
 
scene v JOAN THE MAID 193 
 
 Soldier. If it were, 
 
 Sirrah, your right to ask. What call they you ? 
 
 Raimond. Nay, but you know me well. 
 
 Soldier. And over well : 
 
 There's no such plenty of the rascal breed. 
 
 Raimond. Who then ? 
 
 Soldier. The Bishop's terrier, that he slips 
 
 Into her earth to draw her. . Dirty dogs 
 For dirty work. We hunt with foreigners ; 
 There's never English kind will do it. 
 
 Raimond. At least, 
 
 You know me. 
 
 Soldier. Sooth, and small's the pleasure o't. 
 
 Raimond. Were it more pleasure know my gold ? 
 
 Soldier. O ay, 
 
 Monk, if it be less counterfeit than thou. 
 
 Raimond. Be you but honest as these crowns, 
 and I (Showing money.) 
 
 Will better them at night. 
 
 Soldier (takes the money). Say on. 
 
 Raimond. Let me cross speech with her beside 
 the wheels, 
 And close : the thing is secret. 
 
 Soldier. , An I may. 
 
 Stand off. I hear them on the stair. 
 
 Raimond. But do it. 
 
 (Exit.) 
 
194 JOAN THE MAID act in 
 
 Priests come out from gate, chanting 
 
 Lord of ruth and loving-kindness, 
 Over sinner in his blindness, 
 
 Heed Thy child and shrive. 
 Out of error and misdoing, 
 Unto wisdom, unto rueing, 
 
 Save her soul alive. 
 
 God, that in Thy furnace wholly 
 Changest hearts of men by holy 
 
 Breath of purging fire. 
 Her by mortal pains deliver, 
 And forbid she bear for ever 
 
 Heaven's immortal ire. 
 
 (Joan comes in sight.) 
 Third Woman. Look where she comes. Nay, 
 nay, they will not dare 
 To burn that meek white angel. 
 
 First Woman. Comfort her, 
 
 Comfort her, holy Jesu. 
 
 Second Woman. Shame ! I'll say it : 
 
 Shame on you, murderers all ; how dare ye do it ? 
 Voices. Shame on the English ! Shame on 
 
 Cauchon ! 
 Robin {threatening). How ? 
 
scene v JOAN THE MAID 195 
 
 French dogs, ye dare to yap, then. Must ye learn 
 Your masters by the sting of quarter-staff? 
 
 Joan. Ah ! do not strike them. Am I not enough 
 To die for this ? These cannot hurt you, they. 
 
 (To the people^ 
 Mothers and maids of Rouen, pray for Joan 
 That Christ be near her in the bitter pain : 
 As I will pray Him that He visit never 
 This murder on your babes. 
 
 Robin. Set forward, ho ! 
 
 Fellows, her prating will make broken heads. 
 
 (Soldiers lead Joan to the cart. Priests 
 follow, chanting.') 
 
 Raimond and Scot re-enter behind 
 
 Raimond. Four paces to the rear of me; but then 
 Close up, a lance-length from the doorstep. 
 
 Scot. Ay ! 
 
 Raimond. 'Tis our life, Kenneth, tho' we win her. 
 
 Scot. Ay ! 
 
 Sir, I had reckoned. 
 
 Raimond. Then for France and her 
 
 Come after ! 
 
 A Soldier (stopping them). Stay awhile; there's 
 throng enow 
 F the roadway, fellows ! 
 
196 JOAN THE MAID act hi 
 
 Scot {tripping him). Nay, there's room i' the 
 road 
 Enough to measure with thine inches. 
 
 (To Raimond.) 
 Quick, 
 Sir, ere they note us ! 
 
 Soldier. Villainy ! Stay them, ho ! 
 
 (Raimond and Scot, rush off. Noise of 
 a struggle, and they reappear, attacked 
 by Soldiers. The Scot is driven, 
 fighting, up a side street. Raimond is 
 engaged by Brown Robin, whom he 
 has wounded.) 
 Brown Robin. Thou'lt render for that scratch, 
 fool youngster ! There, 
 
 {Runs him through?) 
 Wilt break the peace no more in Rouen ! Now, 
 His fellow ; Rob it is shall have the brace. 
 
 (Exit in pursuit of 'Scot.) 
 
 SCENE VI. — A Street near the Market-place 
 or Rouen 
 
 Raimond seated on the ground. The Scot enters 
 
 Scot. Alone, and hurt — and Jacques not with 
 you ! 
 
scene vi JOAN THE MAID 197 
 
 Raimond. Nay, 
 
 They had me home and tended. They are gone 
 To watch — ah ! God. I could not bide, I dragged 
 My body thus far. Friend, I thought you slain. 
 
 Scot. I kept my guard up till I found a door 
 And shut the dogs out. They were whistled off. 
 Mayhap, my skin was little worth the hunt ; 
 So they went growling back. There's one of them 
 Goes home feet foremost ; O but light's my heart 
 That I have paid Brown Robin. 
 
 Raimond. Where's the use ? 
 
 Scot, will she die the lighter for't ? Alas, 
 We talk and she is dying. Come away — 
 
 (Tries to rise.) 
 
 Scot. Come can ye not, unless I carry you ; 
 And that I will not. 
 
 Raimond. Do you fear them so ? 
 
 I thought you hardier, friend. 
 
 Scot. For hardihood, 
 
 I find it as I need ; but not for this. 
 Sir, I can look on death, if't be my own ; 
 Look upon hers I cannot. 
 
 Raimond. Speed me then, 
 
 Heaven ! Since I could not help her with a blow, 
 Cannot I win to help her with a prayer ? 
 
 Scot. Couldst not look on and live. 
 
 Raimond. Why, do I not 
 
198 JOAN THE MAID act hi 
 
 Look on it, here ? O, Scot, I see it all ; 
 It eats my flesh like fire to see it. O think ; 
 There's our white lamb before her slaughterers dumb. 
 A black-fleeced gownsman of their Satan's-fold 
 Preaches the leering crowd her devilries, — 
 Hers ! And no face of friend to cast the lie 
 Back again. Up, I'll reach her, if I crawl ! 
 
 (Tries to move and stays.) 
 I bleed within ; I cannot come to thee. 
 
 Scot (supporting his head). I fear me lest he crawl 
 
 too soon across 
 Doom-th reshold. 
 
 Raimond. Ah ! he's done. They'll let her 
 
 pray 
 A little minute. Joan, I had no prayer 
 That time. . . . But there's St. Michael and His 
 
 sword, 
 Look, on the wall ... so, let us kneel together ; 
 I'll pray him smite but once. . . . His sword was 
 
 never 
 Broken. . . . 
 
 Scot. Is light of head : the happier he. 
 
 Christ, if I too could overdream this horror 
 And wake to learn her flitted ! 
 
 Raimond. Ho ! the wolves ! 
 
 The wolves, look, in a circle, staring at her, 
 The babe . . . they grow so plenty by the wars . . . 
 
scene vi JOAN THE MAID 199 
 
 A brand, a brand, a brand to cast at them. 
 
 Quick, ere they sink fang in her. How they gnarr ! 
 
 Scot. The fever grows upon him. O the boy 
 That I so loved — after herself. 
 
 Raimond. Off, off! 
 
 Will no one shut the gate upon the pack ? 
 Here's one will shut it ; he's the King o' the wolves. 
 Nay, but thou'rt liker fox, so velvet-footed, 
 And ermine-throated as a chancellor. 
 Sir, I am sure you do not mean her harm ; 
 Give me her back. . . . 
 
 Steady, Rolande ; she's coming soon afield. . . . 
 What say'st ? Without ? Villain, to shut her out, 
 And all the hell-dogs round her ! The red tongues 
 Lick out at her, they shoot like leaping flames. 
 Why, why, 'tis fire indeed : it wilts her flesh. 
 She cannot bear to burn, she is but girl ; 
 Have mercy — 
 Those maiden limbs to ash ! How dare ye ? 
 
 Scot. Cease. 
 
 This dream is worse than waking. 
 
 Raimond (collecting himself). Ah ! the Scot. 
 Is it so late ? We'll buckle sword. . . . Alas, 
 It was a dream, and she has yet to die. 
 Hush ! canst not hear the chain grate as they gird 
 That white virginity to the felon stake ? 
 Horrible, horrible. And one sets a torch, 
 
200 J0AJV THE MAID act hi 
 
 And up, up, up, the wicked hungering flame 
 Dances and leaps and strikes not, leaps again 
 And dallies out the torment. God in heaven, 
 How couldst thou make this maiden and those men ? 
 
 Scot. Peace, sir, for pity. 
 
 Raimond. Hark, it roars on her, 
 
 It wraps her round with agony. Tender skies, 
 Are ye grown hard and have no rains in you 
 To dout this furnace heat of hell ? The air 
 All is a-tremble with it and a-scorch 
 To where we sit and shudder. Christ, I cannot 
 Brook even the throb and fume of it, and she — 
 
 Scot. Peace, ere you mad us both. Perhaps, 
 who knows ? 
 They would not burn her, only scare again 
 To call her voice a liar. 
 
 Raimond. Forbear, forbear. 
 
 Scot, you have stabbed me deeper than my wound. 
 If she belie it, there's no God in heaven, 
 Nor no truth under heaven. Away, away. 
 It is the fire of God that comes between, 
 
 {Struggles to his feet.) 
 But I'll come to thee through it. ... Ah ! 
 
 Scot. Whatis't? 
 
 Raimond (his head drooping). A string broke at 
 my heart. The Maid is sped. 
 
 (The Scot lets him sink to the ground.) 
 
scene vi JOAN THE MAID 201 
 
 Scot (aside). I think it be so verily. 
 
 (Drawing out the portrait and kissing it.) 
 
 This was she. 
 What like, I wonder, is she now ? 
 
 Raimond (gazing before him). Yea, like ! 
 Is she not like ? And yet — 
 
 Scot (following his eyes). Why gaze you there ? 
 Raimond. Can you not see her, then, and she so 
 near? 
 . . . The fire has changed thy robes, and yet I know 
 
 not 
 If man's they be or woman's. 
 
 Scot. Dreaming still. 
 
 Raimond. . . . Brighter than ever armour. 'Tis 
 the Saints 
 Have clad their sister. . . . Smiling under tears, 
 As after Patay field. 
 
 Scot. He sees her sure ; 
 
 The death-wraith is it that salutes the quick 
 At parting. God ! She'll beckon him away. 
 What friend has now Scot Kenneth ? 
 
 (To Minstrel, who enters hastily and 
 would pass them.) 
 
 Stay you, there. 
 Minstrel. I cannot stay : I am a wind, a wind ; 
 I wander under heaven to echo it — 
 The arrow, the arrow, the Maid has trodden it down. 
 
202 JOAN THE MAID act hi 
 
 Scot. What sayest, man, what sayest ? Hast thou 
 seen? 
 
 Minstrel. I saw hell open and her fires a- 
 roar, 
 And one white angel dumb them. 
 
 Scot. Sober thee ; 
 
 Speak a plain tale. 
 
 Minstrel. I cannot sober me ; 
 
 I have drunk the wines of terror and the wines 
 Of transport in one cup. 
 
 Scot. Then, as thou canst. 
 
 Minstrel. Thousand by thousand on the mortal 
 field, 
 And she but one. O ho ! to war she rides, 
 Fenceless she rides and single to that war, 
 Yet shall they not o'erthrow her, a host to one. 
 
 They bend their weapons on her and their brows ; 
 They bark like dogs, they gape like dogs to snatch 
 The soul's betrayal from the shaken lip. 
 The truth sits in the bosom of a girl, 
 And who shall storm it thence ? 
 
 A flood of faces billowing to the walls, 
 And roofs alive with men. I saw the light 
 Flit from her lonely eyes to range the flood, 
 And back return, unrested. And a moan 
 
scene vi JOAN THE MAID 203 
 
 Came trembling down — the dove's note on the 
 
 bough 
 When stolen her brood is — crying, ' Rouen, Rouen, 
 My death be not thy doom ! ' 
 
 The founts of hell upbrake from underneath 
 And spouted flame to swallow her ; the red surge 
 Roared up her to the lips. I heard the hiss 
 Of monsters in the fiery drift, the bruit 
 Of devil laughter-claps, and hurtling wings 
 That ploughed the reek about her. 
 
 Then from the furnace heart a cry went out, 
 Scarce louder than a Sob, but shook the ranks 
 With mastery like a trumpet, ' God, my life, 
 The voice was thine, the voice was thine, the voice 
 Hath not betrayed me.' And the cry went out, 
 And beats on all the walls of all the world, 
 And none will silence it for evermore. 
 
 Raimond. 'With a great victory.' Saints, ye 
 
 spake her true ! 
 Scot. How brooked her slayers such an end? 
 
 say on. 
 Minstrel. As those who smote the breast on 
 Calvary, they, — 
 With eyes that faded in the ruthless laugh, 
 With blasphemies in hollow silence dead, 
 
204 JOAN THE MAID act hi 
 
 With huddled shoulders and hid brows of shame, 
 
 And sobbings of the proud, and tempest tears, 
 
 And boding rumours that forerun the doom 
 
 Ere a lost army sunders. Lost are they. 
 
 France and the Maid ! The Maid hath died for 
 
 France. 
 Raimond. Hath she but that? Nay, Minstrel, 
 
 that do I. 
 For France she lives who made such ending. 
 
 Minstrel. Yea, 
 
 Lives. Then ye knew it! Brothers, from the 
 
 flame 
 Outhovered, from between the virgin lips, 
 After the crying of the mortal cry, 
 A snowy dove, alive, unstained of fire, 
 And forth it went to range the world. She lives, 
 O brothers, yet, and leads us — 
 
 Jacques and Isambard enter 
 
 Raimond. Me she leads 
 
 Some other whither. Fetch me here a priest. 
 
 Scot. Here is one now beside you. 
 
 Jacques. This is that 
 
 Good Father, who was brave for her in court 
 And prison, and held up the blessed cross 
 Beside the fire to help her die. 
 
scene vi JOAN THE MAID 205 
 
 Raimond. Then who 
 
 Like him ? He'll know the way she went, and speed 
 Raimond to find her. 
 
 Isambard. Peace with thee, my son. 
 
 (Kneels by him. The Minstrel moves 
 apart and sings.) 
 
 Saw ye there ? a wonder flown from red heart of the 
 , burning. 
 
 Bird is that, or flying brightness ? 
 Nay, from death her Maiden self on silver plume 
 returning, 
 Lo ! of chain and pain unholden, 
 Lo ! with dove-wing and dove-whiteness 
 
 Shines arrayed. 
 France, by her that could not die, 
 By the ghostly battle-cry 
 Of the truth that would not lie, — 
 Follow, where thy banner moves, 
 And its white wings are the dove's, 
 And again to battle golden 
 Rides the Maid. 
 
 Isambard. Good Scot, he beckons you. 
 Scot. What would you, sir ? 
 
 Raimond. I am the seed of gentlemen of France, 
 And you a bowman from a Scottish glen ; 
 
206 JOAN THE MAID act hi 
 
 But of one sister are we brothers both. 
 Close you my eyes, true brother ; they have seen 
 Earth's best ; what should they more ? (Dies.) 
 
 Scot. Has followed her. 
 
 (Kisses his brow.) 
 Pass, gentle brother ; and among the Saints 
 Go tell the Maid that true to her were we. 
 
 THE END 
 
 Printed by R. & R. Clark, Limited, Edinburgh 
 
COLUMBA. [BLACKWOOD] 
 
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 * In Columba the Warden of Glenalmond has produced a 
 drama, or rather a dramatic poem, of great insight and 
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 ... To have dealt poetically" with a theme which might in 
 weak hands have easily become more pious than poetic, 
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 Mr. Skrine does what is rarely done — writes blank verse with a 
 note of his own. ' — Speaker. 
 
BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 
 
 A Memory of Edward Thring. By the Rev. 
 
 John Huntley Skrine, M.A., Warden of Trinity 
 College, Glenalmond. With a Portrait. Crown 
 8vo. 6s. 
 
 Virgil. — P. Vergili Maronis Georgicon. Liber 
 
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