Doubt was cast upon the authenticity of her mission because of the ignorance and simplicity of the messenger chosen.  Joan smiled at that.  She could have reminded these people that Our Lord, who is no respecter of persons, had chosen the lowly for his high purposes even oftener than he had chosen bishops and cardinals; but she phrased her rebuke in simpler terms: 

“It is the prerogative of Our Lord to choose His instruments where He will.”

She was asked what form of prayer she used in invoking counsel from on high.  She said the form was brief and simple; then she lifted her pallid face and repeated it, clasping her chained hands: 

“Most dear God, in honor of your holy passion I beseech you, if you love me, that you will reveal to me what I am to answer to these churchmen.  As concerns my dress, I know by what command I have put it on, but I know not in what manner I am to lay it off.  I pray you tell me what to do.”

She was charged with having dared, against the precepts of God and His saints, to assume empire over men and make herself Commander-in-Chief.  That touched the soldier in her.  She had a deep reverence for priests, but the soldier in her had but small reverence for a priest’s opinions about war; so, in her answer to this charge she did not condescend to go into any explanations or excuses, but delivered herself with bland indifference and military brevity.

“If I was Commander-in-Chief, it was to thrash the English.”

Death was staring her in the face here all the time, but no matter; she dearly loved to make these English-hearted Frenchmen squirm, and whenever they gave her an opening she was prompt to jab her sting into it.  She got great refreshment out of these little episodes.  Her days were a desert; these were the oases in it.

Her being in the wars with men was charged against her as an indelicacy.  She said: 

“I had a woman with me when I could—­in towns and lodgings.  In the field I always slept in my armor.”

That she and her family had been ennobled by the King was charged against her as evidence that the source of her deeds were sordid self-seeking.  She answered that she had not asked this grace of the King; it was his own act.

This third trial was ended at last.  And once again there was no definite result.

Possibly a fourth trial might succeed in defeating this apparently unconquerable girl.  So the malignant Bishop set himself to work to plan it.

He appointed a commission to reduce the substance of the sixty-six articles to twelve compact lies, as a basis for the new attempt.  This was done.  It took several days.

Meantime Cauchon went to Joan’s cell one day, with Manchon and two of the judges, Isambard de la Pierre and Martin Ladvenue, to see if he could not manage somehow to beguile Joan into submitting her mission to the examination and decision of the Church Militant—­that is to say, to that part of the Church Militant which was represented by himself and his creatures.