free. Without much thought as to this
matter, I am of the opinion that it may be one or the other." After a
pause she added these words, memorable forever--words whose meaning she
may have miscaught, misunderstood; as to that we can never know; words
which she may have rightly understood, as to that, also, we can never
know; but words whose mystery fell away from them many a year ago and
revealed their meaning to all the world:

"But what my Voices have said clearest is, that I shall be delivered by
a great victory." She paused, my heart was beating fast, for to me that
great victory meant the sudden bursting in of our old soldiers with the
war-cry and clash of steel at the last moment and the carrying off of
Joan of Arc in triumph. But, oh, that thought had such a short life! For
now she raised her head and finished, with those solemn words which men
still so often quote and dwell upon--words which filled me with fear,
they sounded so like a prediction. "And always they say 'Submit to
whatever comes; do not grieve for your martyrdom; from it you will
ascend into the Kingdom of Paradise."

Was she thinking of fire and the stake? I think not. I thought of it
myself, but I believe she was only thinking of this slow and cruel
martyrdom of chains and captivity and insult. Surely, martyrdom was the
right name for it.

It was Jean de la Fontaine who was asking the questions. He was willing
to make the most he could out of what she had said:

"As the Voices have told you you are going to Paradise, you feel certain
that that will happen and that you will not be damned in hell. Is that
so?"

"I believe what they told me. I know that I shall be saved."

"It is a weighty answer."

"To me the knowledge that I shall be saved is a great treasure."

"Do you think that after that revelation you could be able to commit
mortal sin?"

"As to that, I do not know. My hope for salvation is in holding fast to
my oath to keep by body and my soul pure."

"Since you know you are to be saved, do you think it necessary to go to
confession?"

The snare was ingeniously devised, but Joan's simple and humble answer
left it empty:

"One cannot keep his conscience too clean."

We were now arriving at the last day of this new trial. Joan had come
through the ordeal well. It had been a long and wearisome struggle for
all concerned. All ways had been tried to convict the accused, and
all had failed, thus far. The inquisitors were thoroughl