When she went back to prison there was published through Rouen, not the short denial she had signed, but one six pages long.

Joan was taken back to the prison from whence she came.  The next few days were the darkest and saddest of all her life, yet they were the darkest before the dawn.  She had, in the paper which she had signed, promised to wear a woman’s dress again, and she did so.  Her enemies had now a sure hold on her.  They could make her break her own oath.  In the night her woman’s dress was taken away, and man’s clothes put in their place.  She had no choice in the morning what to do.

As soon as it was day Canchon and the rest made haste to the prison to see the success of their plot.  Canchon laughed, and said, “She is taken.”  No more hope for her on earth; no friend with her, save that in the fiery furnace was “One like unto the Son of God.”

Brought before her judges, Joan only said why she had put on her old dress.  They could not hide their delight, and joked and laughed among themselves.  God sent her hope and comfort; she knew that the time of her deliverance was near.  She was to be set free by fire.  They appointed the day after the morrow for her burning.  But a few hours’ notice was given her.  She wept when she heard that she was to be burnt alive, but after awhile she exclaimed:  “I shall be to-night in Paradise!”

Eight hundred Englishmen conducted her to the market-place!  On her way, the wretched priest L’Oiseleur threw himself on the ground before her, and begged her to forgive him.  Three scaffolds had been set up.  On one sat the cardinal with all his train.  Joan and her enemies were on another.  The third, a great, towering pile, built up so high that what happened on it should be in the sight of all the town, had upon it the stake to which she was to be tied.  Canchon began to preach to her.  Her faith never wavered; her Saviour, her best friend, was with her.  To him she prayed aloud before the gathered multitude.  She declared that she forgave her enemies, and begged her friends to pray for her.  Even Canchon and the cardinal shed tears.  But they hastened to dry their eyes, and read the condemnation.  All the false charges were named, and she was given over to death.

They put her on the scaffold and bound her fast to the stake.  Looking round on the crowd of her countrymen, who stood looking over, she exclaimed:  “O Rouen!  I fear thou wilt suffer for my death!” A miter was placed on her head, with the words:  “Relapsed Heretic, Apostate, Idolater.”  Canchon drew near, to listen whether even now she would not say something to condemn herself.  Her only words were, “Bishop, I die through your means.”  Of the worthless king she said:  “That which I have well or ill done I did it of myself; the king did not advise me.”  These were her last words about earthly matters.  The flames burnt from the foot of the pile, but the monk who held the cross before her did not move.  He heard her from the midst of the fire call upon her Saviour.  Soon she bowed her head and cried aloud “Jesus!” And she went to be with him forever.