When the King received the crown from the hands of the Archbishop, a peal of trumpets rang out, with such a mighty volume of sound that the very roof of the cathedral seemed to shake again.  Ingres, in his striking picture of Joan of Arc, now in the gallery of the Louvre, represents her standing by the high altar, clad in her white panoply of shining steel, her banner held on high; below bows in prayer her confessor, the priest Pasquerel, in his brown robes of the Order of Augustin; and beyond stand her faithful squire and pages.  The heroine’s face is raised, and on it sits a radiant look of mingled gratitude and triumph.  It is a noble idea of a sublime figure.

When the long-drawn-out ceremony came to an end, and after the people had shouted themselves hoarse in crying ‘Noel!’ and ’Long live King Charles!’—­Joan, who had remained by the King throughout the day, knelt at his feet and, according to one chronicle, said these words: 

’Now is finished the pleasure of God, who willed that you should come to Rheims and receive your crown, proving that you are truly the King, and no other, to whom belongs this land of France.’

Many besides the King are said to have shed tears at that moment.

That seemed indeed the moment of Joan of Arc’s triumph.  The Nunc Dimittis might well have then echoed from her lips; but in the midst of all the rejoicing and festivity at this time Joan had saddened thoughts and melancholy forebodings as to the future.  While the people shouted ‘Noel!’ as she rode through the jubilant streets by the side of the King, she turned to the Archbishop, and said:  ’When I die I should wish to be buried here among these good and devout people.’

And on the prelate asking her how it was that at such a moment her mind should set itself on the thought of death, and when she expected her death to happen, she answered:  ’I know not—­it will come when God pleases; but how I would that God would allow me to return to my home, to my sister and my brothers!  For how glad would they be to see me back again.  At any rate,’ she added, ’I have done what my Saviour commanded me to do.’

Her mission was indeed accomplished:  that is to say, if her mission consisted of the two great deeds which while at Chinon she had repeatedly assured her listeners she was born to accomplish.  These were, first, to drive the English out of Orleans, and thereby deliver that town; the second, to take the King to Rheims, where he would receive his crown.  The other enterprises, such as the wish to deliver the Duke of Orleans from his captivity in England, and then to wage a holy war against the Moslems, may be left out of the actual task which, encouraged by her voices, Joan had set herself to accomplish.  But the two great deeds had now been carried out—­and with what marvellous rapidity!  In spite of all the obstacles placed in her path, not only by the enemies of her country, but by those nearest to the