kept always; "forever" was the King's word. (1) At two o'clock in the
afternoon the ceremonies of the Coronation came at last to an end; then
the procession formed once more, with Joan and the King at its head,
and took up its solemn march through the midst of the church, all
instruments and all people making such clamor of rejoicing noises as
was, indeed, a marvel to hear. An so ended the third of the great days
of Joan's life. And how close together they stand--May 8th, June 18th,
July 17th!

(1) IT was faithfully kept during three hundred and sixty years and
more; then the over-confident octogenarian's prophecy failed. During the
tumult of the French Revolution the promise was forgotten and the grace
withdrawn. It has remained in disuse ever since. Joan never asked to be
remembered, but France has remembered her with an inextinguishable love
and reverence; Joan never asked for a statue, but France has lavished
them upon her; Joan never asked for a church for Domremy, but France
is building one; Joan never asked for saintship, but even that is
impending. Everything which Joan of Arc did not ask for has been given
her, and with a noble profusion; but the one humble little thing which
she did ask for and get has been taken away from her. There is something
infinitely pathetic about this. France owes Domremy a hundred years of
taxes, and could hardly find a citizen within her borders who would vote
against the payment of the debt. -- NOTE BY THE TRANSLATOR.

36 Joan Hears News from Home

WE MOUNTED and rode, a spectacle to remember, a most noble display of
rich vestments and nodding plumes, and as we moved between the banked
multitudes they sank down all along abreast of us as we advanced, like
grain before the reaper, and kneeling hailed with a rousing welcome the
consecrated King and his companion the Deliverer of France. But by and
by when we had paraded about the chief parts of the city and were come
near to the end of our course, we being now approaching the Archbishop's
palace, one saw on the right, hard by the inn that is called the Zebra,
a strange thing--two men not kneeling but standing! Standing in the front
rank of the kneelers; unconscious, transfixed, staring. Yes, and clothed
in the coarse garb of the peasantry, these two. Two halberdiers sprang
at them in a fury to teach them better manners; but just as they seized
them Joan cried out "Forbear!" and slid from her saddle and flung her
arms about