hreats, and the traps caught
nothing. She was perfectly frank and childlike about these things. She
knew the bishops were sent by the King, that their questions were the
King's questions, and that by all law and custom a King's questions must
be answered; yet she told the King in her naive way at his own table one
day that she answered only such of those questions as suited her.

The bishops finally concluded that they couldn't tell whether Joan was
sent by God or not. They were cautious, you see. There were two powerful
parties at Court; therefore to make a decision either way would
infallibly embroil them with one of those parties; so it seemed to them
wisest to roost on the fence and shift the burden to other shoulders. And
that is what they did. They made final report that Joan's case was beyond
their powers, and recommended that it be put into the hands of the
learned and illustrious doctors of the University of Poitiers. Then they
retired from the field, leaving behind them this little item of
testimony, wrung from them by Joan's wise reticence: they said she was a
"gentle and simple little shepherdess, very candid, but not given to
talking."

It was quite true--in their case. But if they could have looked back and
seen her with us in the happy pastures of Domremy, they would have
perceived that she had a tongue that could go fast enough when no harm
could come of her words.

So we traveled to Poitiers, to endure there three weeks of tedious delay
while this poor child was being daily questioned and badgered before a
great bench of--what? Military experts?--since what she had come to apply
for was an army and the privilege of leading it to battle against the
enemies of France. Oh no; it was a great bench of priests and
monks--profoundly leaned and astute casuists--renowned professors of
theology! Instead of setting a military commission to find out if this
valorous little soldier could win victories, they set a company of holy
hair-splitters and phrase-mongers to work to find out if the soldier was
sound in her piety and had no doctrinal leaks. The rats were devouring
the house, but instead of examining the cat's teeth and claws, they only
concerned themselves to find out if it was a holy cat. If it was a pious
cat, a moral cat, all right, never mind about the other capacities, they
were of no consequence.

Joan was as sweetly self-possessed and tranquil before this grim
tribunal, with its robed celebrities, i