of its mute reproach?  Her eyes were like that.  How capable they were, and how wonderful!  Yes, at all times and in all circumstances they could express as by print every shade of the wide range of her moods.  In them were hidden floods of gay sunshine, the softest and peacefulest twilights, and devastating storms and lightnings.  Not in this world have there been others that were comparable to them.  Such is my opinion, and none that had the privilege to see them would say otherwise than this which I have said concerning them.

The seance began.  And how did it begin, should you think?  Exactly as it began before—­with that same tedious thing which had been settled once, after so much wrangling.  The Bishop opened thus: 

“You are required now, to take the oath pure and simple, to answer truly all questions asked you.”

Joan replied placidly: 

“I have made oath yesterday, my lord; let that suffice.”

The Bishop insisted and insisted, with rising temper; Joan but shook her head and remained silent.  At last she said: 

“I made oath yesterday; it is sufficient.”  Then she sighed and said, “Of a truth, you do burden me too much.”

The Bishop still insisted, still commanded, but he could not move her.  At last he gave it up and turned her over for the day’s inquest to an old hand at tricks and traps and deceptive plausibilities—­Beaupere, a doctor of theology.  Now notice the form of this sleek strategist’s first remark—­flung out in an easy, offhand way that would have thrown any unwatchful person off his guard: 

“Now, Joan, the matter is very simple; just speak up and frankly and truly answer the questions which I am going to ask you, as you have sworn to do.”

It was a failure.  Joan was not asleep.  She saw the artifice.  She said: 

“No.  You could ask me things which I could not tell you—­and would not.”  Then, reflecting upon how profane and out of character it was for these ministers of God to be prying into matters which had proceeded from His hands under the awful seal of His secrecy, she added, with a warning note in her tone, “If you were well informed concerning me you would wish me out of your hands.  I have done nothing but by revelation.”

Beaupere changed his attack, and began an approach from another quarter.  He would slip upon her, you see, under cover of innocent and unimportant questions.

“Did you learn any trade at home?”

“Yes, to sew and to spin.”  Then the invincible soldier, victor of Patay, conqueror of the lion Talbot, deliverer of Orleans, restorer of a king’s crown, commander-in-chief of a nation’s armies, straightened herself proudly up, gave her head a little toss, and said with naive complacency, “And when it comes to that, I am not afraid to be matched against any woman in Rouen!”

The crowd of spectators broke out with applause—­which pleased Joan—­and there was many a friendly and petting smile to be seen.  But Cauchon stormed at the people and warned them to keep still and mind their manners.