ng wildly to her feet, and wound her
hands in her hair, and began to writhe and sob, oh, so piteously, and
mourn and grieve and lament, and turn to first one and then another of
us, and search our faces beseechingly, as hoping she might find help and
friendliness there, poor thing--she that had never denied these to any
creature, even her wounded enemy on the battle-field.

"Oh, cruel, cruel, to treat me so! And must my body, that has never been
defiled, be consumed today and turned to ashes? Ah, sooner would I that
my head were cut off seven times than suffer this woeful death. I had
the promise of the Church's prison when I submitted, and if I had but
been there, and not left here in the hands of my enemies, this miserable
fate had not befallen me.

"Oh, I appeal to God the Great Judge, against the injustice which has
been done me."

There was none there that could endure it. They turned away, with the
tears running down their faces. In a moment I was on my knees at her
feet. At once she thought only of my danger, and bent and whispered in
my hear: "Up!--do not peril yourself, good heart. There--God bless you
always!" and I felt the quick clasp of her hand. Mine was the last hand
she touched with hers in life. None saw it; history does not know of it
or tell of it, yet it is true, just as I have told it. The next moment
she saw Cauchon coming, and she went and stood before him and reproached
him, saying:

"Bishop, it is by you that I die!"

He was not shamed, not touched; but said, smoothly:

"Ah, be patient, Joan. You die because you have not kept your promise,
but have returned to your sins."

"Alas," she said, "if you had put me in the Church's prison, and given
me right and proper keepers, as you promised, this would not have
happened. And for this I summon you to answer before God!"

Then Cauchon winced, and looked less placidly content than before, and
he turned him about and went away.

Joan stood awhile musing. She grew calmer, but occasionally she wiped
her eyes, and now and then sobs shook her body; but their violence
was modifying now, and the intervals between them were growing longer.
Finally she looked up and saw Pierre Maurice, who had come in with the
Bishop, and she said to him:

"Master Peter, where shall I be this night?"

"Have you not good hope in God?"

"Yes--and by His grace I shall be in Paradise."

Now Martin Ladvenu heard her in confession; then she begged for the
sacrament.