“Would she were King!” said the other knight, fervently.  “For there is little hope that the King himself can be stirred out of his lethargy.  He is wholly without hope, and is only thinking of throwing away everything and flying to some foreign land.  The commissioners say there is a spell upon him that makes him hopeless—­yes, and that it is shut up in a mystery which they cannot fathom.”

“I know the mystery,” said Joan, with quiet confidence; “I know it, and he knows it, but no other but God.  When I see him I will tell him a secret that will drive away his trouble, then he will hold up his head again.”

I was miserable with curiosity to know what it was that she would tell him, but she did not say, and I did not expect she would.  She was but a child, it is true; but she was not a chatterer to tell great matters and make herself important to little people; no, she was reserved, and kept things to herself, as the truly great always do.

The next day Queen Yolande got one victory over the King’s keepers, for, in spite of their protestations and obstructions, she procured an audience for our two knights, and they made the most they could out of their opportunity.  They told the King what a spotless and beautiful character Joan was, and how great and noble a spirit animated her, and they implored him to trust in her, believe in her, and have faith that she was sent to save France.  They begged him to consent to see her.  He was strongly moved to do this, and promised that he would not drop the matter out of his mind, but would consult with his council about it.  This began to look encouraging.  Two hours later there was a great stir below, and the innkeeper came flying up to say a commission of illustrious ecclesiastics was come from the King—­from the King his very self, understand!—­think of this vast honor to his humble little hostelry!—­and he was so overcome with the glory of it that he could hardly find breath enough in his excited body to put the facts into words.  They were come from the King to speak with the Maid of Vaucouleurs.  Then he flew downstairs, and presently appeared again, backing into the room, and bowing to the ground with every step, in front of four imposing and austere bishops and their train of servants.

Joan rose, and we all stood.  The bishops took seats, and for a while no word was said, for it was their prerogative to speak first, and they were so astonished to see what a child it was that was making such a noise in the world and degrading personages of their dignity to the base function of ambassadors to her in her plebeian tavern, that they could not find any words to say at first.  Then presently their spokesman told Joan they were aware that she had a message for the King, wherefore she was now commanded to put it into words, briefly and without waste of time or embroideries of speech.