Saint Joan

epub:type="z3998:persona">Joan There is some good in thee, Charlie; but it is not yet a king’s good. Charles We shall see. I am not such a fool as I look. I have my eyes open; and I can tell you that one good treaty is worth ten good fights. These fighting fellows lose all on the treaties that they gain on the fights. If we can only have a treaty, the English are sure to have the worst of it, because they are better at fighting than at thinking. Joan If the English win, it is they that will make the treaty; and then God help poor France! Thou must fight, Charlie, whether thou will or no. I will go first to hearten thee. We must take our courage in both hands: aye, and pray for it with both hands too. Charles Descending from his throne and again crossing the room to escape from her dominating urgency. Oh do stop talking about God and praying. I can’t bear people who are always praying. Isn’t it bad enough to have to do it at the proper times? Joan Pitying him. Thou poor child, thou hast never prayed in thy life. I must teach thee from the beginning. Charles I am not a child: I am a grown man and a father; and I will not be taught any more. Joan Aye, you have a little son. He that will be Louis the Eleventh when you die. Would you not fight for him? Charles No: a horrid boy. He hates me. He hates everybody, selfish little beast! I don’t want to be bothered with children. I don’t want to be a father; and I don’t want to be a son: especially a son of St. Louis. I don’t want to be any of these fine things you all have your heads full of: I want to be just what I am. Why can’t you mind your own business, and let me mind mine? Joan Again contemptuous. Minding your own business is like minding your own body: it’s the shortest way to make yourself sick. What is my business? Helping mother at home. What is thine? Petting lapdogs and sucking sugarsticks. I call that muck. I tell thee it is God’s business we are here to do: not our own. I have a message to thee from God; and thou must listen to it, though thy heart break with the terror of it. Charles I don’t want a message; but can you tell me any secrets? Can you do any cures? Can you turn lead into gold, or anything of that sort? Joan I can turn thee into a king, in Rheims Cathedral; and that is a miracle that will take some doing, it seems. Charles If we go to Rheims, and have a coronation, Anne will want new dresses. We can’t afford them. I am all right as I am. Joan As you are! And what is that? Less than my father’s poorest shepherd. Thou’rt not lawful owner of thy own land of France till thou be consecrated. Charles But I shall not be lawful owner of my own land anyhow. Will the consecration pay off my mortgages? I have pledged my last acre to the Archbishop and that fat bully. I owe money even to Bluebeard. Joan Earnestly. Charlie: I come from the land, and have gotten my strength working on the land; and I tell thee that the land is thine to rule righteously and keep God’s peace in, and not to pledge at the pawnshop as a drunken woman pledges her children’s clothes. And I come from God to tell thee to kneel in the cathedral and solemnly give thy kingdom to Him forever and ever, and become the greatest king in the world as His steward and His bailiff, His soldier and His servant. The very clay of France will become holy: her soldiers will be the soldiers of God: the rebel dukes will be rebels against God: the English will fall on their knees and beg thee let them return to their lawful homes in peace. Wilt be a poor little Judas, and betray me and Him that sent me? Charles Tempted at last. Oh, if I only dare! Joan I shall dare, dare, and dare again, in God’s name! Art for or against me? Charles Excited. I’ll risk it. I warn you I shan’t be able to keep it up; but I’ll risk it. You shall see. Running to the main door and shouting. Hallo! Come back, everybody. To Joan, as he runs back to the arch opposite. Mind you stand by and don’t let me be bullied. Through the arch. Come along, will you: the whole Court. He sits down in the royal chair as they all hurry in to their former places, chattering and wondering. Now I’m in for it; but no matter: here goes! To the page. Call for silence, you little beast, will you? The Page Snatching a halberd as before and thumping with it repeatedly. Silence for His Majesty the King. The King speaks. Peremptorily. Will you be silent there? Silence. Charles Rising. I have given the command of the army to The Maid. The Maid is to do as she likes with it. He descends from the dais. General amazement. La Hire, delighted, slaps his steel thigh-piece with his gauntlet. La Trémouille Turning threateningly towards Charles. What is this? I command the army. Joan Quickly puts her hand on Charles’s shoulder as he instinctively recoils. ! Charles With a grotesque effort, culminating in an extravagant gesture, snaps his fingers in the Chamberlain’s face. ! Joan Thou’rt answered, old Gruff-and-Grum. Suddenly flashing out her sword as she divines that her moment has come. Who is for God and His Maid? Who is for Orleans with me? La Hire Carried away, drawing also. For God and His Maid! To Orleans! All the Knights Following his lead with enthusiasm. To Orleans!