Volume II Part 12 (1/2)

”You are required now, to take the oath pure and simple, to answer truly all questions asked you.”

Joan replied placidly:

”I have made oath yesterday, my lord; let that suffice.”

The Bishop insisted and insisted, with rising temper; Joan but shook her head and remained silent. At last she said:

”I made oath yesterday; it is sufficient.” Then she sighed and said, ”Of a truth, you do burden me too much.”

The Bishop still insisted, still commanded, but he could not move her.

At last he gave it up and turned her over for the day's inquest to an old hand at tricks and traps and deceptive plausibilities--Beaupere, a doctor of theology. Now notice the form of this sleek strategist's first remark--flung out in an easy, offhand way that would have thrown any unwatchful person off his guard:

”Now, Joan, the matter is very simple; just speak up and frankly and truly answer the questions which I am going to ask you, as you have sworn to do.”

It was a failure. Joan was not asleep. She saw the artifice. She said:

”No. You could ask me things which I could not tell you--and would not.”

Then, reflecting upon how profane and out of character it was for these ministers of G.o.d to be prying into matters which had proceeded from His hands under the awful seal of His secrecy, she added, with a warning note in her tone, ”If you were well informed concerning me you would wish me out of your hands. I have done nothing but by revelation.”

Beaupere changed his attack, and began an approach from another quarter.

He would slip upon her, you see, under cover of innocent and unimportant questions.

”Did you learn any trade at home?”

”Yes, to sew and to spin.” Then the invincible soldier, victor of Patay, conqueror of the lion Talbot, deliverer of Orleans, restorer of a king's crown, commander-in-chief of a nation's armies, straightened herself proudly up, gave her head a little toss, and said with naive complacency, ”And when it comes to that, I am not afraid to be matched against any woman in Rouen!”

The crowd of spectators broke out with applause--which pleased Joan--and there was many a friendly and petting smile to be seen. But Cauchon stormed at the people and warned them to keep still and mind their manners.

Beaupere asked other questions. Then:

”Had you other occupations at home?”

”Yes. I helped my mother in the household work and went to the pastures with the sheep and the cattle.”

Her voice trembled a little, but one could hardly notice it. As for me, it brought those old enchanted days flooding back to me, and I could not see what I was writing for a little while.

Beaupere cautiously edged along up with other questions toward the forbidden ground, and finally repeated a question which she had refused to answer a little while back--as to whether she had received the Eucharist in those days at other festivals than that of Easter. Joan merely said:

”Pa.s.sez outre.” Or, as one might say, ”Pa.s.s on to matters which you are privileged to pry into.”

I heard a member of the court say to a neighbor:

”As a rule, witnesses are but dull creatures, and an easy prey--yes, and easily embarra.s.sed, easily frightened--but truly one can neither scare this child nor find her dozing.”

Presently the house p.r.i.c.ked up its ears and began to listen eagerly, for Beaupere began to touch upon Joan's Voices, a matter of consuming interest and curiosity to everybody. His purpose was to trick her into heedless sayings that could indicate that the Voices had sometimes given her evil advice--hence that they had come from Satan, you see. To have dealing with the devil--well, that would send her to the stake in brief order, and that was the deliberate end and aim of this trial.

”When did you first hear these Voices?”