nce
to her her approaching death, and to lead her to true contrition and
penitence; and also to hear her confession, which the said l'Advenu did
very carefully and charitably." Jeanne on her part received the news
with no conventional resignation or calm. Was it possible that she had
been deceived and really hoped for mercy? She began to weep and to cry
at the sudden stroke of fate. Notwithstanding the solemnity of her last
declaration, that she would rather bear her punishment all at once than
to endure the long punishment of her prison, her heart failed before
the imminent stake, the immediate martyrdom. She cried out to heaven and
earth: "My body, which has never been corrupted, must it be burned to
ashes to-day!" No one but Jeanne knew at what cost she had kept her
perfect purity; was it good for nothing but to be burned, that young
body not nineteen years old? "Ah," she said, "I would rather be beheaded
seven times than burned! I appeal to God against all these great wrongs
they do me." But after a while the passion wore itself out, the child's
outburst was stilled; calming herself, she knelt down and made her
confession to the compassionate friar, then asked for the sacrament, to
"receive her Saviour" as she had so often prayed and entreated before.
It would appear that this had not been within Friar Martin's commission.
He sent to ask the Bishop's leave, and it was granted "anything she
asked for"--as they give whatever he may wish to eat to a condemned
convict. But the Host was brought into the prison without ceremony,
without accompanying candles or vestment for the priest. There are
always some things which are insupportable to a man. Brother Martin
could bear the sight of the girl's anguish, but not to administer to
her a diminished rite. He sent again to demand what was needful, out of
respect for the Holy Sacrament and the present victim. And his request
had come, it would seem, to some canon or person in authority whose
heart had been touched by the wonderful Maid in her long martyrdom. This
nameless sympathiser did all that a man could do. He sent the Host with
a train of priests chanting litanies as they went through the streets,
with torches burning in the pure early daylight; some of these exhorted
the people who knelt as they passed, to pray for her. She must have
heard in her prison the sound of the bell, the chant of the clergy, the
pause of awe, and then the rising, irregular murmur of the voices, th