Early in the morning of Wednesday, the 30th of May—­a date which should be held sacred in France as that of the martyrdom of her who through all time must be her country’s greatest glory—­two priests (Martin Ladvenu and John Toutmouille) were sent by the Bishop’s order to the prisoner to tell her that her last day on earth had come.  Toutmouille describes, with some pathos, the manner in which Joan of Arc received the terrible news.  She, he tells us, at first wept bitterly, and said she would sooner be beheaded seven times than suffer such a death as that of burning.  She recalled with pain the promises made by Cauchon to her—­that after she had abjured she would be taken to the prison of the Church, for then, she said, this cruel death would not have befallen her; and she called upon God, ’the omnipotent and just Judge,’ to take pity on her.  While she thus lamented her fate, Cauchon entered the dungeon.  Turning on him, she cried:  ’I lay my death at your door; for had you placed me in the prison of the Church, this cruel death would not have befallen me, and I make you responsible to God for my death.’

Then, turning away from the Bishop, she appeared more calm, and, addressing one of the judges who had followed Cauchon into the prison, exclaimed:  ’Master Peter’—­the man’s name was Peter Maurice—­’where shall I be this evening?’

‘Have you not good hope in God’s mercy?’ he answered.

‘Yes,’ said Joan; ‘and by His grace I hope to be in Paradise.’

Cauchon and the others having left her alone with Martin Ladvenu, she made her confession to him, and when that was finished she begged that the Sacrament might be administered to her.  Without Cauchon’s leave Ladvenu did not dare to obtain this supreme consolation for the martyr.

He despatched a messenger to the Bishop, who, after consulting with some of the clergy, gave his permission.  In the meanwhile, the city had heard that the day of the Maid of Orleans’ execution had come, and the people crowded about the neighbourhood of the castle.  In spite of the English soldiery, the people did not conceal their grief and dismay on learning that the heroine was so soon to perish.  The Eucharist was brought into the prison, but without the usual accompaniments of candle, stole, and surplice.  These ‘maimed rights’ raised the indignation of the priest Martin, and he indignantly refused to proceed with the ceremony until lights and stole were brought.  During the time in which Joan of Arc was receiving the Sacrament, those persons who had been admitted within the castle recited the litany for the departing soul, and never had the mournful invocation for the dying, the supplication of the solemn chant, ‘Kyrie eleison!  Christe eleison!’ been raised from a more tragic place, or on a more heart-stirring occasion.  Outside, in the street, and all around the prison gates, knelt the weeping people, fervently praying, and earnestly invoking the Almighty and His saints for her who was about