isitor, and Cauchon had each a key to the tower,
and watched her hourly through a hole in the wall. Each stone of this
infernal dungeon had eyes.

Her only consolation was that she was at first allowed interviews with a
priest, who told her that he was a prisoner and attached to Charles
VII's cause. Loyseleur, so he was named, was a tool of the English. He
had won Jeanne's confidence, who used to confess herself to him; and, at
such times, her confessions were taken down by notaries concealed on
purpose to overhear her. It is said that Loyseleur encouraged her to
hold out, in order to insure her destruction.

The deplorable state of the prisoner's health was aggravated by her
being deprived of the consolations of religion during Passion Week. On
the Thursday, the sacrament was withheld from her; on that selfsame day
on which Christ is universal host, on which he invites the poor and all
those who suffer, she seemed to be forgotten.

On Good Friday, that day of deep silence, on which we all hear no other
sound than the beating of one's own heart, it seems as if the hearts of
the judges smote them, and that some feeling of humanity and of religion
had been awakened in their aged scholastic souls; at least it is certain
that, whereas thirty-five of them took their seats on the Wednesday, no
more than nine were present at the examination on Saturday; the rest, no
doubt, alleged the devotions of the day as their excuse.

On the contrary, her courage had revived. Likening her own sufferings to
those of Christ, the thought had roused her from her despondency. She
agreed to "defer to the Church militant, provided it commanded nothing
impossible."

"Do you think, then, that you are not subject to the Church which is
upon earth, to our holy father the Pope, to the cardinals, archbishops,
bishops, and prelates?"

"Yes, certainly, our Lord served."

"Do your voices forbid your submitting to the Church militant?"

"They do not forbid it, our Lord being served _first_."

This firmness did not desert her once on the Saturday; but on the next
day, the Sunday, Easter Sunday! what must her feelings have been? What
must have passed in that poor heart when, the sounds of the universal
holiday enlivening the city, Rouen's five hundred bells ringing out with
their joyous peals on the air, and the whole Christian world coming to
life with the Saviour, she remained with death! Could she who, with all
her inner life of visions and rev