stions in his bastard Limousin
French--for he was from Limoges. Finally he said:

"How is it that you understand those angels? What language did they
speak?"

"French."

"In-deed! How pleasant to know that our language is so honored! Good
French?"

"Yes--perfect."

"Perfect, eh? Well, certainly you ought to know. It was even better than
your own, eh?"

"As to that, I--I believe I cannot say," said she, and was going on, but
stopped. Then she added, almost as if she were saying it to herself,
"Still, it was an improvement on yours!"

I knew there was a chuckle back of her eyes, for all their innocence.
Everybody shouted. Brother Seguin was nettled, and asked brusquely:

"Do you believe in God?"

Joan answered with an irritating nonchalance:

"Oh, well, yes--better than you, it is likely."

Brother Seguin lost his patience, and heaped sarcasm after sarcasm upon
her, and finally burst out in angry earnest, exclaiming:

"Very well, I can tell you this, you whose believe in God is so great:
God has not willed that any shall believe in you without a sign. Where is
your sign?--show it!"

This roused Joan, and she was on her feet in a moment, and flung out her
retort with spirit:

"I have not come to Poitiers to show signs and do miracles. Send me to
Orleans and you shall have signs enough. Give me men-at-arms--few or
many--and let me go!"

The fire was leaping from her eyes--ah, the heroic little figure! can't
you see her? There was a great burst of acclamations, and she sat down
blushing, for it was not in her delicate nature to like being
conspicuous.

This speech and that episode about the French language scored two points
against Brother Seguin, while he scored nothing against Joan; yet, sour
man as he was, he was a manly man, and honest, as you can see by the
histories; for at the Rehabilitation he could have hidden those unlucky
incidents if he had chosen, but he didn't do it, but spoke them right out
in his evidence.

On one of the latter days of that three-weeks session the gowned scholars
and professors made one grand assault all along the line, fairly
overwhelming Joan with objections and arguments culled from the writings
of every ancient and illustrious authority of the Roman Church. She was
well-nigh smothered; but at last she shook herself free and struck back,
crying out:

"Listen! The Book of God is worth more than all these ye cite, and I
stand upon it. And I tell ye there are things