ed, that she believed firmly
what her voices said about her being saved, as firmly as if she were
so already. And when it was said to her that this answer was of great
weight, she answered that she herself held it as a great treasure.

We have said that Jeanne's answers to the Inquisitors in prison had a
more familiar form than in the public examination; which seem to
prove that they were not unkind to her, further, at least, than by the
persistence and tediousness of their questions. The Bishop for one thing
was seldom present; the sittings were frequently presided over by the
Deputy Inquisitor, who had made great efforts to be free of the business
altogether, and had but very recently been forced into it; so that we
may at least imagine, as he was so reluctant, that he did what he could
to soften the proceedings. Jean de la Fontaine, too, was a milder man
than her former questioners, and in so small an assembly she could not
be disturbed and interrupted by Frere Isambard's well-meant signs and
whispers. She speaks at length and with a self-disclosure which seems to
have little that was painful in it, like one matured into a kind of
age by long weariness and trouble, who regards the panorama of her life
passing before her with almost a pensive pleasure. And it is clear that
Jeanne's ear, still so young and keen, notwithstanding that attitude of
mind, was still intent upon sounds from without, and that Jeanne's
heart still expected a sudden assault, a great victory for France, which
should open her prison doors--or even a rising in the very judgment hall
to deliver her. How could they keep still outside, Dunois, Alencon,
La Hire, the mighty men of valour, while they knew that she was being
racked and tortured within? She who could not bear to be out of the
conflict to serve her friends at Compiegne, even when succour from on
high had been promised, how was it possible that these gallant knights
could live and let her die, their gentle comrade, their dauntless
leader? In those long hours, amid the noise of the guards within and the
garrison around, how she must have thought, over and over again, where
were they? when were they coming? how often imagined that a louder clang
of arms than usual, a rush of hasty feet, meant that they were here!

But honour and love kept Jeanne's lips closed. Not a word did she say
that could discredit King, or party, or friends; not a reproach to those
who had abandoned her. She still looked