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, its solemn state and imposing
ceremonials, as if she were but a spectator and not herself on trial.
She sat there, solitary on her bench, untroubled, and disconcerted the
science of the sages with her sublime ignorance--an ignorance which was
a fortress; arts, wiles, the learning drawn from books, and all like
missiles rebounded from its unconscious masonry and fell to the ground
harmless; they could not dislodge the garrison which was within--Joan's
serene great heart and spirit, the guards and keepers of her mission.

She answered all questions frankly, and she told all the story of her
visions and of her experiences with the angels and what they said to
her; and the manner of the telling was so unaffected, and so earnest and
sincere, and made it all seem so lifelike and real, that even that hard
practical court forgot itself and sat motionless and mute, listening
with a charmed and wondering interest to the end. And if you would have
other testimony than mine, look in the histories and you will find where
an eyewitness, giving sworn testimony in the Rehabilitation process,
says that she told that tale "with a noble dignity and simplicity," and
as to its effect, says in substance what I have said. Seventeen, she
was--seventeen, and all alone