“If we wait, they will all be strengthened, reinforced.  Will that advantage us?”

“Why—­no.”

“Then what is your suggestion?—­what is it that you would propose to do?”

“My judgment is to wait.”

“Wait for what?”

The minister was obliged to hesitate, for he knew of no explanation that would sound well.  Moreover, he was not used to being catechized in this fashion, with the eyes of a crowd of people on him, so he was irritated, and said: 

“Matters of state are not proper matters for public discussion.”

Joan said placidly: 

“I have to beg your pardon.  My trespass came of ignorance.  I did not know that matters connected with your department of the government were matters of state.”

The minister lifted his brows in amused surprise, and said, with a touch of sarcasm: 

“I am the King’s chief minister, and yet you had the impression that matters connected with my department are not matters of state?  Pray, how is that?”

Joan replied, indifferently: 

“Because there is no state.”

“No state!”

“No, sir, there is no state, and no use for a minister.  France is shrunk to a couple of acres of ground; a sheriff’s constable could take care of it; its affairs are not matters of state.  The term is too large.”

The King did not blush, but burst into a hearty, careless laugh, and the court laughed too, but prudently turned its head and did it silently.  La Tremouille was angry, and opened his mouth to speak, but the King put up his hand, and said: 

“There—­I take her under the royal protection.  She has spoken the truth, the ungilded truth—­how seldom I hear it!  With all this tinsel on me and all this tinsel about me, I am but a sheriff after all—­a poor shabby two-acre sheriff—­and you are but a constable,” and he laughed his cordial laugh again.  “Joan, my frank, honest General, will you name your reward?  I would ennoble you.  You shall quarter the crown and the lilies of France for blazon, and with them your victorious sword to defend them—­speak the word.”

It made an eager buzz of surprise and envy in the assemblage, but Joan shook her head and said: 

“Ah, I cannot, dear and noble Dauphin.  To be allowed to work for France, to spend one’s self for France, is itself so supreme a reward that nothing can add to it—­nothing.  Give me the one reward I ask, the dearest of all rewards, the highest in your gift—­march with me to Rheims and receive your crown.  I will beg it on my knees.”

But the King put his hand on her arm, and there was a really brave awakening in his voice and a manly fire in his eye when he said: 

“No, sit.  You have conquered me—­it shall be as you—­”

But a warning sign from his minister halted him, and he added, to the relief of the court: 

“Well, well, we will think of it, we will think it over and see.  Does that content you, impulsive little soldier?”