race her in the eyes of people. This was done on the 23d of May. A
scaffold was put up behind the Cathedral of St. Onen; here in solemn
state sat the cardinal of Winchester, two judges, and thirty-three
helpers. On another scaffold was Joan of Arc, in the midst of guards,
notaries to take reports, and the most famous preacher of France to
admonish her. Below was seen the rack upon a cart.

The preacher began his discourse. Joan let him speak against herself,
but she stopped him when he spoke against the king, that king for whom
she had risked every thing, but who was dreaming at Chinon, and had not
stretched out a finger to save her. Their labor was nearly lost; her
enemies became furious. Persuading was of no use; she refused to go back
from any thing she had said or done. Her instant death was threatened if
she continued obstinate, but if she would recant she was promised
deliverance from the English. "I will sign," she said at last. The
cardinal drew a paper from his sleeve with a short denial. She put her
mark to it. They kept their promise of mercy by passing this sentence
upon her: "Joan, we condemn you, through our grace and moderation, to
pass the rest of your days in prison, to eat the bread of grief and
drink the water of anguish, and to bewail your sins."

When she went back to prison there was published through Rouen, not the
short denial she had signed, but one six pages long.

Joan was taken back to the prison from whence she came. The next few
days were the darkest and saddest of all her life, yet they were the
darkest before the dawn. She had, in the paper which she had signed,
promised to wear a woman's dress again, and she did so. Her enemies had
now a sure hold on her. They could make her break her own oath. In the
night her woman's dress was taken away, and man's clothes put in their
place. She had no choice in the morning what to do.

As soon as it was day Canchon and the rest made haste to the prison to
see the success of their plot. Canchon laughed, and said, "She is
taken." No more hope for her on earth; no friend with her, save that in
the fiery furnace was "One like unto the Son of God."

Brought before her judges, Joan only said why she had put on her old
dress. They could not hide their delight, and joked and laughed among
themselves. God sent her hope and comfort; she knew that the time of her
deliverance was near. She was to be set free by fire. They appointed the
day after the morrow f