country-maid.

Joan walked two yards behind the Count, we three walked two yards behind
Joan. Our solemn march ended when we were as yet some eight or ten steps
from the throne. The Count made a deep obeisance, pronounced Joan's name,
then bowed again and moved to his place among a group of officials near
the throne. I was devouring the crowned personage with all my eyes, and
my heart almost stood still with awe.

The eyes of all others were fixed upon Joan in a gaze of wonder which was
half worship, and which seemed to say, "How sweet--how lovely--how
divine!" All lips were parted and motionless, which was a sure sign that
those people, who seldom forget themselves, had forgotten themselves now,
and were not conscious of anything but the one object they were gazing
upon. They had the look of people who are under the enchantment of a
vision.

Then they presently began to come to life again, rousing themselves out
of the spell and shaking it off as one drives away little by little a
clinging drowsiness or intoxication. Now they fixed their attention upon
Joan with a strong new interest of another sort; they were full of
curiosity to see what she would do--they having a secret and particular
reason for this curiosity. So they watched. This is what they saw:

She made no obeisance, nor even any slight inclination of her head, but
stood looking toward the throne in silence. That was all there was to see
at present.

I glanced up at De Metz, and was shocked at the paleness of his face. I
whispered and said:

"What is it, man, what is it?"

His answering whisper was so weak I could hardly catch it:

"They have taken advantage of the hint in her letter to play a trick upon
her! She will err, and they will laugh at her. That is not the King that
sits there."

Then I glanced at Joan. She was still gazing steadfastly toward the
throne, and I had the curious fancy that even her shoulders and the back
of her head expressed bewilderment. Now she turned her head slowly, and
her eye wandered along the lines of standing courtiers till it fell upon
a young man who was very quietly dressed; then her face lighted joyously,
and she ran and threw herself at his feet, and clasped his knees,
exclaiming in that soft melodious voice which was her birthright and was
now charged with deep and tender feeling:

"God of his grace give you long life, O dear and gentle Dauphin!"

In his astonishment and exultation De Metz cried out:

"B