ble to
do whatsoever He wills, where is the need for men-at-arms?"

There was a fine stir and commotion when he said that, and a sudden
thrusting forward of heads and putting up of hands to ears to catch the
answer; and the Dominican wagged his head with satisfaction, and looked
about him collecting his applause, for it shone in every face. But Joan
was not disturbed. There was no note of disquiet in her voice when she
answered:

"He helps who help themselves. The sons of France will fight the
battles, but He will give the victory!"

You could see a light of admiration sweep the house from face to face
like a ray from the sun. Even the Dominican himself looked pleased, to
see his master-stroke so neatly parried, and I heard a venerable bishop
mutter, in the phrasing common to priest and people in that robust
time, "By God, the child has said true. He willed that Goliath should be
slain, and He sent a child like this to do it!"

Another day, when the inquisition had dragged along until everybody
looked drowsy and tired but Joan, Brother Seguin, professor of theology
at the University of Poitiers, who was a sour and sarcastic man, fell to
plying Joan with all sorts of nagging questions 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 belief 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 m