ister's character to be." Just about the
same report that was brought back to Poitiers, you see. Joan's was a
character which could endure the minutest examination.

This verdict was a strong point for Joan, you will say. Yes, it would
have been if it could have seen the light; but Cauchon was awake, and it
disappeared from the proces verbal before the trial. People were prudent
enough not to inquire what became of it.

One would imagine that Cauchon was ready to begin the trial by this
time. But no, he devised one more scheme for poor Joan's destruction,
and it promised to be a deadly one.

One of the great personages picked out and sent down by the University
of Paris was an ecclesiastic named Nicolas Loyseleur. He was tall,
handsome, grave, of smooth, soft speech and courteous and winning
manners. There was no seeming of treachery or hypocrisy about him,
yet he was full of both. He was admitted to Joan's prison by night,
disguised as a cobbler; he pretended to be from her own country; he
professed to be secretly a patriot; he revealed the fact that he was
a priest. She was filled with gladness to see one from the hills and
plains that were so dear to her; happier still to look upon a priest and
disburden her heart in confession, for the offices of the Church were
the bread of life, the breath of her nostrils to her, and she had been
long forced to pine for them in vain. She opened her whole innocent
heart to this creature, and in return he gave her advice concerning her
trial which could have destroyed her if her deep native wisdom had not
protected her against following it.

You will ask, what value could this scheme have, since the secrets of
the confessional are sacred and cannot be revealed? True--but suppose
another person should overhear them? That person is not bound to keep
the secret. Well, that is what happened. Cauchon had previously caused
a hole to be bored through the wall; and he stood with his ear to that
hole and heard all. It is pitiful to think of these things. One wonders
how they could treat that poor child so. She had not done them any harm.

4 All Ready to Condemn

ON TUESDAY, the 20th of February, while I sat at my master's work in the
evening, he came in, looking sad, and said it had been decided to begin
the trial at eight o'clock the next morning, and I must get ready to
assist him.

Of course I had been expecting such news every day for many days; but no
matter, the shock of