el
that any man in such desperate case as is the King can moon around in
this torpid way, and see his all go to ruin without lifting a finger to
stay the disaster. What a most strange spectacle it is! Here he is,
shut up in this wee corner of the realm like a rat in a trap; his
royal shelter this huge gloomy tomb of a castle, with wormy rags for
upholstery and crippled furniture for use, a very house of desolation;
in his treasure forty francs, and not a farthing more, God be witness!
no army, nor any shadow of one; and by contrast with his hungry poverty
you behold this crownless pauper and his shoals of fools and favorites
tricked out in the gaudiest silks and velvets you shall find in any
Court in Christendom. And look you, he knows that when our city falls--as
fall it surely will except succor come swiftly--France falls; he knows
that when that day comes he will be an outlaw and a fugitive, and that
behind him the English flag will float unchallenged over every acre of
his great heritage; he knows these things, he knows that our faithful
city is fighting all solitary and alone against disease, starvation, and
the sword to stay this awful calamity, yet he will not strike one blow
to save her, he will not hear our prayers, he will not even look
upon our faces.' That is what the commissioners said, and they are in
despair."

Joan said, gently:

"It is pity, but they must not despair. The Dauphin will hear them
presently. Tell them so."

She almost always called the King the Dauphin. To her mind he was not
King yet, not being crowned.

"We will tell them so, and it will content them, for they believe you
come from God. The Archbishop and his confederate have for backer that
veteran soldier Raoul de Gaucourt, Grand Master of the Palace, a worthy
man, but simply a soldier, with no head for any greater matter. He
cannot make out to see how a country-girl, ignorant of war, can take a
sword in her small hand and win victories where the trained generals of
France have looked for defeats only, for fifty years--and always found
them. And so he lifts his frosty mustache and scoffs."

"When God fights it is but small matter whether the hand that bears His
sword is big or little. He will perceive this in time. Is there none in
that Castle of Chinon who favors us?"

"Yes, the King's mother-in-law, Yolande, Queen of Sicily, who is wise
and good. She spoke with the Sieur Bertrand."

"She favors us, and she hates those others