. Murray, "was solemnly opened there, and the
mother and brothers of the Maid came before the court to present their
humble petition for a revision of her sentence, demanding only 'the
triumph of truth and justice.' The court heard the request with some
emotion. When Isabel d'Arc threw herself at the feet of the
Commissioners, showing the papal rescript and weeping aloud, so many
joined in the petition that at last, we are told, it seemed that one
great cry for justice broke from the multitude."

The story of Paris under the English is a melancholy one. Despite the
coronation of the young king at Notre Dame and the rigid justice and
enlightened policy of Bedford's regency, they failed to win the
affection of the Parisians. Rewards to political friends, punishments
and confiscations inflicted on the disaffected, the riotous and
homicidal conduct of some of the English garrison, the depression in
commerce and depreciation of property brought their inevitable
consequences--a growing hatred of the English name.[95] The chapter of
Notre Dame was compelled to sell the gold vessels from the treasury.
Hundred of houses were abandoned by their owners, who were unable to
meet the charges upon them. In 1427 by a royal instrument the rent of
the Maison des Singes was reduced from twenty-six livres to fourteen,
"seeing the extreme diminution of rents."

[Footnote 95: In 1421 and 1422 the people of Paris had seen Henry V.
and his French consort sitting in state at the Louvre, surrounded by a
brilliant throng of princes, prelates and barons. Hungry crowds
watched the sumptuous banquet and then went away fasting, for nothing
was offered them. "It was not so in the former times under our kings,"
they murmured, "then was open table kept, and servants distributed the
meats and wine even of the king himself."]

Some curious details of life in Paris under the English have come down
to us. By a royal pardon granted to Guiot d'Eguiller, we learn that he
and four other servants of the Duke of Bedford, and of our "late very
dear and very beloved aunt the Duchess of Bedford whom God pardon,"
were drinking one night at ten o'clock in a tavern where hangs the
sign of _L'Homme Arme_.[2] Hot words arose between them and some other
tipplers, to wit, Friars Robert, Peter, and William of the Blancs
Manteaux, who were disguised as laymen and wearing swords. Friar
Robert lost his temper and struck at the servants with his naked
sword. The friar, owing