ied
prodigy, a word, a phrase, a world-girdling Name.

The stillness continued. Then, far down the stone-paved corridors, one
heard a vague slow sound approaching: clank... clink... clank--Joan of
Arc, Deliverer of France, in chains!

My head swam; all things whirled and spun about me. Ah, I was realizing,
too.

5 Fifty Experts Against a Novice

I GIVE you my honor now that I am not going to distort or discolor the
facts of this miserable trial. No, I will give them to you honestly,
detail by detail, just as Manchon and I set them down daily in the
official record of the court, and just as one may read them in the
printed histories.

There will be only this difference: that in talking familiarly with you,
I shall use my right to comment upon the proceedings and explain them as
I go along, so that you can understand them better; also, I shall throw
in trifles which came under our eyes and have a certain interest for you
and me, but were not important enough to go into the official record.
(1) To take up my story now where I left off. We heard the clanking of
Joan's chains down the corridors; she was approaching.

Presently she appeared; a thrill swept the house, and one heard deep
breaths drawn. Two guardsmen followed her at a short distance to the
rear. Her head was bowed a little, and she moved slowly, she being weak
and her irons heavy. She had on men's attire--all black; a soft woolen
stuff, intensely black, funereally black, not a speck of relieving color
in it from her throat to the floor. A wide collar of this same black
stuff lay in radiating folds upon her shoulders and breast; the sleeves
of her doublet were full, down to the elbows, and tight thence to her
manacled wrists; below the doublet, tight black hose down to the chains
on her ankles.

Half-way to her bench she stopped, just where a wide shaft of light fell
slanting from a window, and slowly lifted her face. Another thrill!--it
was totally colorless, white as snow; a face of gleaming snow set in
vivid contrast upon that slender statue of somber unmitigated black. It
was smooth and pure and girlish, beautiful beyond belief, infinitely
sad and sweet. But, dear, dear! when the challenge of those untamed
eyes fell upon that judge, and the droop vanished from her form and
it straightened up soldierly and noble, my heart leaped for joy; and I
said, all is well, all is well--they have not broken her, they have not
conquered her, she is Joan of A