Saint Joan

think: you are not big enough. But I will tell you this about her. If you could bring her back to life, they would burn her again within six months, for all their present adoration of her. And you would hold up the cross, too, just the same. So Crossing himself. let her rest; and let you and I mind our own business, and not meddle with hers. Ladvenu God forbid that I should have no share in her, nor she in me! He turns and strides out as he came, saying: Henceforth my path will not lie through palaces, nor my conversation be with kings. Charles Following him towards the door, and shouting after him. Much good may it do you, holy man! He returns to the middle of the chamber, where he halts, and says quizzically to himself: That was a funny chap. How did he get in? Where are my people? He goes impatiently to the bed, and swings the rattle. A rush of wind through the open door sets the walls swaying agitatedly. The candles go out. He calls in the darkness. Hallo! Someone come and shut the windows: everything is being blown all over the place. A flash of summer lightning shows up the lancet windows. A figure is seen in silhouette against it. Who is there? Who is that? Help! Murder! Thunder. He jumps into bed, and hides under the clothes. Joan’s Voice Easy, Charlie, easy. What art making all that noise for? No one can hear thee. Thou’rt asleep. She is dimly seen in a pallid greenish light by the bedside. Charles Peeping out. Joan! Are you a ghost, Joan? Joan Hardly even that, lad. Can a poor burnt-up lass have a ghost? I am but a dream that thou’rt dreaming. The light increases: they become plainly visible as he sits up. Thou looks older, lad. Charles I am older. Am I really asleep? Joan Fallen asleep over thy silly book. Charles That’s funny. Joan Not so funny as that I am dead, is it? Charles Are you really dead? Joan As dead as anybody ever is, laddie. I am out of the body. Charles Just fancy! Did it hurt much? Joan Did what hurt much? Charles Being burnt. Joan Oh, that! I cannot remember very well. I think it did at first; but then it all got mixed up; and I was not in my right mind until I was free of the body. But do not thou go handling fire and thinking it will not hurt thee. How hast been ever since? Charles Oh, not so bad. Do you know, I actually lead my army out and win battles? Down into the moat up to my waist in mud and blood. Up the ladders with the stones and hot pitch raining down. Like you. Joan No! Did I make a man of thee after all, Charlie? Charles I am Charles the Victorious now. I had to be brave because you were. Agnes put a little pluck into me too. Joan Agnes! Who was Agnes? Charles Agnes Sorel. A woman I fell in love with. I dream of her often. I never dreamed of you before. Joan Is she dead, like me? Charles Yes. But she was not like you. She was very beautiful. Joan Laughing heartily. Ha ha! I was no beauty: I was always a rough one: a regular soldier. I might almost as well have been a man. Pity I wasn’t: I should not have bothered you all so much then. But my head was in the skies; and the glory of God was upon me; and, man or woman, I should have bothered you as long as your noses were in the mud. Now tell me what has happened since you wise men knew no better than to make a heap of cinders of me? Charles Your mother and brothers have sued the courts to have your case tried over again. And the courts have declared that your judges were full of corruption and cozenage, fraud and malice. Joan Not they. They were as honest a lot of poor fools as ever burned their betters. Charles The sentence on you is broken, annihilated, annulled: null, nonexistent, without value or effect. Joan I was burnt all the same. Can they unburn me? Charles If they could, they would think twice before they did it. But they have decreed that a beautiful cross be placed where the stake stood, for your perpetual memory and for your salvation. Joan It is the memory and the salvation that sanctify the cross, not the cross that sanctifies the memory and the salvation. She turns away, forgetting him. I shall outlast that cross. I shall be remembered when men will have forgotten where Rouen stood. Charles There you go with your self-conceit, the same as ever! I think you might say a word of thanks to me for having had justice done at last. Cauchon Appearing at the window between them. Liar! Charles Thank you. Joan Why, if it isn’t Peter Cauchon! How are you, Peter? What luck have you had since you burnt me? Cauchon None. I arraign the justice of Man. It is not the justice of God. Joan Still dreaming of justice, Peter? See what justice came to with me! But what has happened to thee? Art dead or alive? Cauchon Dead. Dishonored. They pursued me beyond the grave. They excommunicated my dead body: they dug it up and flung it into the common sewer. Joan Your dead body did not feel the spade and the sewer as my live body felt the fire. Cauchon But this thing that they have done against me hurts justice; destroys faith; saps the foundation of the Church. The solid earth sways like the treacherous sea beneath the feet of men and spirits alike when the innocent are slain in the name of law, and their wrongs are undone by slandering the pure of heart. Joan Well, well, Peter, I hope men will be the better for remembering me; and they would not remember me so well if you had not