lifting its lip and showing its white teeth whenever any slight movement disturbed it.  The King’s dandies were dressed in about the same fashion as himself, and when I remembered that Joan had called the war-council of Orleans “disguised ladies’ maids,” it reminded me of people who squander all their money on a trifle and then haven’t anything to invest when they come across a better chance; that name ought to have been saved for these creatures.

Joan fell on her knees before the majesty of France, and the other frivolous animal in his lap—­a sight which it pained me to see.  What had that man done for his country or for anybody in it, that she or any other person should kneel to him?  But she—­she had just done the only great deed that had been done for France in fifty years, and had consecrated it with the libation of her blood.  The positions should have been reversed.

However, to be fair, one must grant that Charles acquitted himself very well for the most part, on that occasion—­very much better than he was in the habit of doing.  He passed his pup to a courtier, and took off his cap to Joan as if she had been a queen.  Then he stepped from his throne and raised her, and showed quite a spirited and manly joy and gratitude in welcoming her and thanking her for her extraordinary achievement in his service.  My prejudices are of a later date than that.  If he had continued as he was at that moment, I should not have acquired them.

He acted handsomely.  He said: 

“You shall not kneel to me, my matchless General; you have wrought royally, and royal courtesies are your due.”  Noticing that she was pale, he said, “But you must not stand; you have lost blood for France, and your wound is yet green—­come.”  He led her to a seat and sat down by her.  “Now, then, speak out frankly, as to one who owes you much and freely confesses it before all this courtly assemblage.  What shall be your reward?  Name it.”

I was ashamed of him.  And yet that was not fair, for how could he be expected to know this marvelous child in these few weeks, when we who thought we had known her all her life were daily seeing the clouds uncover some new altitudes of her character whose existence was not suspected by us before?  But we are all that way:  when we know a thing we have only scorn for other people who don’t happen to know it.  And I was ashamed of these courtiers, too, for the way they licked their chops, so to speak, as envying Joan her great chance, they not knowing her any better than the King did.  A blush began to rise in Joan’s cheeks at the thought that she was working for her country for pay, and she dropped her head and tried to hide her face, as girls always do when they find themselves blushing; no one knows why they do, but they do, and the more they blush the more they fail to get reconciled to it, and the more they can’t bear to have people look at them when they are doing it.  The King made it a great deal worse by calling