Saint Joan

take those forts. Dunois Single-handed? Joan Our men will take them. I will lead them. Dunois Not a man will follow you. Joan I will not look back to see whether anyone is following me. Dunois Recognizing her mettle, and clapping her heartily on the shoulder. Good. You have the makings of a soldier in you. You are in love with war. Joan Startled. Oh! And the Archbishop said I was in love with religion. Dunois I, God forgive me, am a little in love with war myself, the ugly devil! I am like a man with two wives. Do you want to be like a woman with two husbands? Joan Matter-of-factly. I will never take a husband. A man in Toul took an action against me for breach of promise; but I never promised him. I am a soldier: I do not want to be thought of as a woman. I will not dress as a woman. I do not care for the things women care for. They dream of lovers, and of money. I dream of leading a charge, and of placing the big guns. You soldiers do not know how to use the big guns: you think you can win battles with a great noise and smoke. Dunois With a shrug. True. Half the time the artillery is more trouble than it is worth. Joan Aye, lad; but you cannot fight stone walls with horses: you must have guns, and much bigger guns too. Dunois Grinning at her familiarity, and echoing it. Aye, lass; but a good heart and a stout ladder will get over the stoniest wall. Joan I will be first up the ladder when we reach the fort, Bastard. I dare you to follow me. Dunois You must not dare a staff officer, Joan: only company officers are allowed to indulge in displays of personal courage. Besides, you must know that I welcome you as a saint, not as a soldier. I have daredevils enough at my call, if they could help me. Joan I am not a daredevil: I am a servant of God. My sword is sacred: I found it behind the altar in the church of St. Catherine, where God hid it for me; and I may not strike a blow with it. My heart is full of courage, not of anger. I will lead; and your men will follow: that is all I can do. But I must do it: you shall not stop me. Dunois All in good time. Our men cannot take those forts by a sally across the bridge. They must come by water, and take the English in the rear on this side. Joan Her military sense asserting itself. Then make rafts and put big guns on them; and let your men cross to us. Dunois The rafts are ready; and the men are embarked. But they must wait for God. Joan What do you mean? God is waiting for them. Dunois Let Him send us a wind then. My boats are downstream: they cannot come up against both wind and current. We must wait until God changes the wind. Come: let me take you to the church. Joan No. I love church; but the English will not yield to prayers: they understand nothing but hard knocks and slashes. I will not go to church until we have beaten them. Dunois You must: I have business for you there. Joan What business? Dunois To pray for a west wind. I have prayed; and I have given two silver candlesticks; but my prayers are not answered. Yours may be: you are young and innocent. Joan Oh yes: you are right. I will pray: I will tell St. Catherine: she will make God give me a west wind. Quick: show me the way to the church. The Page Sneezes violently. At-cha!!! Joan God bless you, child! Coom, Bastard. They go out. The page rises to follow. He picks up the shield, and is taking the spear as well when he notices the pennon, which is now streaming eastward. The Page Dropping the shield and calling excitedly after them. Seigneur! Seigneur! Mademoiselle! Dunois Running back. What is it? The kingfisher? He looks eagerly for it up the river. Joan Joining them. Oh, a kingfisher! Where? The Page No: the wind, the wind, the wind pointing to the pennon: that is what made me sneeze. Dunois Looking at the pennon. The wind has changed. He crosses himself. God has spoken. Kneeling and handing his baton to Joan. You command the king’s army. I am your soldier. The Page Looking down the river. The boats have put off. They are ripping upstream like anything. Dunois Rising. Now for the forts. You dared me to follow. Dare you lead? Joan Bursting into tears and flinging her arms round Dunois, kissing him on both cheeks. Dunois, dear comrade in arms, help me. My eyes are blinded with tears. Set my foot on the ladder, and say “Up, Joan.” Dunois Dragging her out. Never mind the tears: make for the flash of the guns. Joan In a blaze of courage. Ah! Dunois Dragging her along with him. For God and Saint Dennis! The Page Shrilly. The Maid! The Maid! God and The Maid! Hurray‑ay‑ay! He snatches up the shield and lance, and capers out after them, mad with excitement.

Scene IV

A tent in the English camp. A bullnecked English chaplain of 50 is sitting on a stool at a table, hard at work writing. At the other side of the table an imposing nobleman, aged 46, is seated in a handsome chair turning over the leaves of an illuminated Book of Hours. The nobleman is enjoying himself: the chaplain is struggling with suppressed wrath. There is an unoccupied leather stool on the nobleman’s left. The table is on his right.

The Nobleman

Now this is what I call workmanship. There is nothing on earth more exquisite than a bonny book, with well-placed columns of rich black