drum broke upon the stillness, and for just one moment
she thought of the glorious deliverance promised by her Voices--I read
it in the rapture that lit her face; then she saw what it was--her
prison escort--and that light faded, never to revive again. And now her
head began a piteous rocking motion, swaying slowly, this way and that,
as is the way when one is suffering unwordable pain, or when one's heart
is broken; then drearily she went from us, with her face in her hands,
and sobbing bitterly.

21 Respited Only for Torture

THERE IS no certainty that any one in all Rouen was in the secret of the
deep game which Cauchon was playing except the Cardinal of Winchester.
Then you can imagine the astonishment and stupefaction of that vast
mob gathered there and those crowds of churchmen assembled on the
two platforms, when they saw Joan of Arc moving away, alive and
whole--slipping out of their grip at last, after all this tedious
waiting, all this tantalizing expectancy.

Nobody was able to stir or speak for a while, so paralyzing was the
universal astonishment, so unbelievable the fact that the stake was
actually standing there unoccupied and its prey gone.

Then suddenly everybody broke into a fury of rage; maledictions and
charges of treachery began to fly freely; yes, and even stones: a stone
came near killing the Cardinal of Winchester--it just missed his head.
But the man who threw it was not to blame, for he was excited, and a
person who is excited never can throw straight.

The tumult was very great, indeed, for a while. In the midst of it
a chaplain of the Cardinal even forgot the proprieties so far as to
opprobriously assail the August Bishop of Beauvais himself, shaking his
fist in his face and shouting:

"By God, you are a traitor!"

"You lie!" responded the Bishop.

He a traitor! Oh, far from it; he certainly was the last Frenchman that
any Briton had a right to bring that charge against.

The Earl of Warwick lost his temper, too. He was a doughty soldier, but
when it came to the intellectuals--when it came to delicate chicane, and
scheming, and trickery--he couldn't see any further through a millstone
than another. So he burst out in his frank warrior fashion, and swore
that the King of England was being treacherously used, and that Joan
of Arc was going to be allowed to cheat the stake. But they whispered
comfort into his ear:

"Give yourself no uneasiness, my lord; we shall soon have her