as she rode into Rheims to crown
the king after her victories. She was, you will remember, clothed
all in white armor and rode a white horse, both the emblems of purity.
That was the note I would sound, for I believe too much had been
made of Joan the warrior, Joan the heroine, and not enough of Joan
the saint. Oh, _Monsieur_, there have been evil forces at work there!"

He clasped his thigh with both hands and groaned, and I knew that
though a _nono_ had bitten him there, his anguish was more of soul
than body. I lighted his cigarette, as he proceeded:

"Two things were needful above all; a handsome white horse and a
Marquesan girl of virtue. Three years before the jubilee I was
enabled, through a gift inspired by Joan, to buy a horse of that
kind in Hiva-oa. I had this mare pastured on that island until the
time came for bringing her here.

"Now as to the girl, I found in the nun's school a child who was
beautiful, strong, and good. Her father was the captain of a foreign
vessel and had dwelt here for a time; he was of your country. Of the
mother I will not speak. The girl was everything to be desired. But
this was seven years before the day of the fete. That was a
difficulty.

"I stressed to the good sisters the absolute necessity of bringing
up the child in the perfect path of sanctity. I had her dedicated to
Joan, and special prayers were said by me and by the nuns that the
evil one would not trap her into the sins of other Marquesan girls.
Also she was observed diligently. For seven years we watched and
prayed, and _Monsieur_, we succeeded. I will not say that it was a
miracle, but it was a very striking triumph for Joan.

"That for the human; now for the beast. A month before the fete I
commissioned Captain Capriata to bring the mare to Tai-o-hae in his
schooner. The animal came safely to the harbor. She was still on deck
when a storm arose, and Capriata thought it best for him to lift his
anchor and go to the open sea. The wind was driving hard toward the
shore, and there was danger of shipwreck."

The old priest stood up and, leading me to a window, pointed to the
extreme end of the horseshoe circle of the bay.

"See that point," he said. "Right there, just as Capriata swung his
vessel to head for the sea, the mare broke loose from her halter,
and in a bound reached the rail of the schooner and leaped into the
waves. Capriata could do nothing. The schooner was in peril, and he,
with his hand upon the w