“She was born five hundred years ago on the day of the procession in Tai-o-hae.  That itself is a marvel.  Such an anniversary occurs but twice in a millennium.  After all my humble services in these islands that I should be permitted to be here on such a wonderful day proves to me the everlasting mercy of God.  Here is the account I have written in Marquesan of her life, and here the record of the fete upon the anniversary.”

As he showed me the brochures written beautifully in purple and red inks, recording the history of the Maid of Orleans, with many canticles in her praise, learned dissertations upon her career and holiness, maps showing her march and starred at Oleane, Kopiegne, and Rua to indicate that great things had occurred at Orleans, Compiegne, and Rouen, Pere Simeon pointed out to me that it was of supreme importance that the Marquesan people should be given a proper understanding of the historical and geographical conditions of England and France in Joan’s time.

He had spent months, even years, in preparing for the celebration of her fete-day.

“And Monsieur, by the blessed grace of Joan, only the whites got drunk.  Not a Marquesan was far gone in liquor throughout the three days of the feast.  There was temptation in plenty, for though I gave only the chiefs and a few intimates any wine, several of the Europeans in their enthusiasm for our dear patroness distributed absinthe and rum to those who had the price.  There was a moment when it seemed touch and go between the devil and Joan.  But, oh, how she came to our rescue!  I reproached the whites, locked up the rum, and Joan did the rest.  It was a three-days’ feast of innocence.”

“But there are not many whites here?” I asked.

“No,” he replied.  “There are one hundred and twenty people in Tai-o-hae now, and but a few are whites.  Alas, mon ami, they do not set a good example.  They mean well; they are brave men, but they do not keep the commandments.  Here is a chart I drew showing the rise of the church since Peter.  It is divided into twenty periods, and I have allotted the fifteenth to Joan.  She well merits a period.”

My mind continually harked back to the prompting of Pere Victorien concerning the horse and the girl of the jubilee.

“There were signs at the commemoration?” I interposed.

Pere Simeon glanced at me eagerly.  His naivete was not of ignorance of men and their motives.  He had confessed royalty, cannibals, pirates, and nuns.  The souls of men were naked under his scrutiny.  But his faith burned like a lambent flame, and to win to the standard of the Maid of Orleans one who would listen was a duty owed her, and a rare chance to aid a fellow mortal.

He rose and brushed the cigarette ashes down the front of his frayed cassock as an old native woman responded to his call and brought another bottle of Bordeaux.  The nonos were incessantly active.  I slapped at them constantly and sucked at the wounds they made.  But he paid no attention to them at all except when they attacked him under his soutane; then he struck convulsively at the spot.