w herself at the
feet of a very quietly dressed young man who stood among the ranks of
courtiers, exclaiming, "God of his grace give you long life, O dear and
gentle Dauphin."

Quickly the courtier answered, "You mistake, my child. I am not the
King. There he is," pointing to the throne.

There was a stir and murmur in the crowd, but the Maid did not rise. She
simply looked into his face again, saying:

"No, gracious liege, _you_ are he, and no other," adding with a simple
earnestness, "I am Jeanne, the Maid, sent to you from God to give
succour to the kingdom, and to you. The King of Heaven sends you word by
me that you shall be anointed and crowned in the town of Rheims, and you
shall be lieutenant of the King of Heaven, who is the King of France."

Charles the Dauphin, who in the disguise of a courtier, had attempted to
outwit the peasant girl by placing another on his throne, stood dumb
with wonder at this revelation of her clear vision, and with a touch of
awe, he raised her, and drew her away from the crowd that he might
confer with her alone, while all tendency to jest at the expense of the
Maid and her mission died away, and the crowd were silent with wonder at
the bearing of this peasant girl who said she had come to save France.

No one ever knew what passed between Jeanne and the Dauphin during that
interview, but it is said that he demanded a further proof of her
inspired mission, and in reply she told him the substance of a prayer he
had offered one morning--a prayer known to God alone--and so impressed
by this proof of a more than mortal vision was he, that he at once led
her again down the long audience hall, through the lines of torch
bearers and courtiers, then bending low, kissed her hand, and with
gracious words sent her away under a strong escort of his own guard of
honour, having given his promise to further the cause to which Jeanne
had dedicated her life. And just here let us glance for a moment at the
character of Charles the Dauphin, for whom the girl of Domremy was
sacrificing so much.

At best he was the poor imitation of a King. Being the son of a mad
father and a weak mother he inherited such tendencies as made him
utterly unfit to cope with the perils of the time, or to give to the
Maid who had come to his relief such assistance as he should have given.

"Never did a King lose his kingdom so gaily," said one of his soldiers,
and although he was momentarily roused by the Maid's noble