She was looking
well now, and most fair and beautiful after her fortnight's rest from
wordy persecution.

She glanced about and noted the orator. Doubtless she divined the
situation.

The orator had written his speech all out, and had it in his hand,
though he held it back of him out of sight. It was so thick that it
resembled a book. He began flowing, but in the midst of a flowery period
his memory failed him and he had to snatch a furtive glance at his
manuscript--which much injured the effect. Again this happened, and then
a third time. The poor man's face was red with embarrassment, the whole
great house was pitying him, which made the matter worse; then Joan
dropped in a remark which completed the trouble. She said:

"Read your book--and then I will answer you!"

Why, it was almost cruel the way those moldy veterans laughed; and as
for the orator, he looked so flustered and helpless that almost anybody
would have pitied him, and I had difficulty to keep from doing it
myself. Yes, Joan was feeling very well after her rest, and the native
mischief that was in her lay near the surface. It did not show when she
made the remark, but I knew it was close in there back of the words.

When the orator had gotten back his composure he did a wise thing; for
he followed Joan's advice: he made no more attempts at sham impromptu
oratory, but read his speech straight from his "book." In the speech he
compressed the Twelve Articles into six, and made these his text.

Every now and then he stopped and asked questions, and Joan replied.
The nature of the Church Militant was explained, and once more Joan was
asked to submit herself to it.

She gave her usual answer.

Then she was asked:

"Do you believe the Church can err?"

"I believe it cannot err; but for those deeds and words of mine which
were done and uttered by command of God, I will answer to Him alone."

"Will you say that you have no judge upon earth? Is not our Holy Father
the Pope your judge?"

"I will say nothing about it. I have a good Master who is our Lord, and
to Him I will submit all."

Then came these terrible words:

"If you do not submit to the Church you will be pronounced a heretic by
these judges here present and burned at the stake!"

Ah, that would have smitten you or me dead with fright, but it only
roused the lion heart of Joan of Arc, and in her answer rang that
martial note which had used to stir her soldiers like a bugle-call:

"I w