King, Charles VI., is to reign until he
dies, then Henry V. of England is to be Regent of France until a child of
his shall be old enough to--"

"That man is to reign over us--the Butcher? It is lies! all lies!" cried
the Paladin. "Besides, look you--what becomes of our Dauphin? What says
the treaty about him?"

"Nothing. It takes away his throne and makes him an outcast."

Then everybody shouted at once and said the news was a lie; and all began
to get cheerful again, saying, "Our King would have to sign the treaty to
make it good; and that he would not do, seeing how it serves his own
son."

But the Sunflower said: "I will ask you this: Would the Queen sign a
treaty disinheriting her son?"

"That viper? Certainly. Nobody is talking of her. Nobody expects better
of her. There is no villainy she will stick at, if it feed her spite; and
she hates her son. Her signing it is of no consequence. The King must
sign."

"I will ask you another thing. What is the King's condition? Mad, isn't
he?"

"Yes, and his people love him all the more for it. It brings him near to
them by his sufferings; and pitying him makes them love him."

"You say right, Jacques d'Arc. Well, what would you of one that is mad?
Does he know what he does? No. Does he do what others make him do? Yes.
Now, then, I tell you he has signed the treaty."

"Who made him do it?"

"You know, without my telling. The Queen."

Then there was another uproar--everybody talking at once, and all heaping
execrations upon the Queen's head. Finally Jacques d'Arc said:

"But many reports come that are not true. Nothing so shameful as this has
ever come before, nothing that cuts so deep, nothing that has dragged
France so low; therefore there is hope that this tale is but another idle
rumor. Where did you get it?"

The color went out of his sister Joan's face. She dreaded the answer; and
her instinct was right.

"The cur, of Maxey brought it."

There was a general gasp. We knew him, you see, for a trusty man.

"Did he believe it?"

The hearts almost stopped beating. Then came the answer:

"He did. And that is not all. He said he knew it to be true."

Some of the girls began to sob; the boys were struck silent. The distress
in Joan's face was like that which one sees in the face of a dumb animal
that has received a mortal hurt. The animal bears it, making no
complaint; she bore it also, saying no word. Her brother Jacques put his
hand on her head and ca