The Twelve were to be submitted first to the learned doctors of theology of the University of Paris for approval.  They were copied out and ready by the night of April 4th.  Then Manchon did another bold thing:  he wrote in the margin that many of the Twelve put statements in Joan’s mouth which were the exact opposite of what she had said.  That fact would not be considered important by the University of Paris, and would not influence its decision or stir its humanity, in case it had any—­which it hadn’t when acting in a political capacity, as at present—­but it was a brave thing for that good Manchon to do, all the same.

The Twelve were sent to Paris next day, April 5th.  That afternoon there was a great tumult in Rouen, and excited crowds were flocking through all the chief streets, chattering and seeking for news; for a report had gone abroad that Joan of Arc was sick until death.  In truth, these long seances had worn her out, and she was ill indeed.  The heads of the English party were in a state of consternation; for if Joan should die uncondemned by the Church and go to the grave unsmirched, the pity and the love of the people would turn her wrongs and sufferings and death into a holy martyrdom, and she would be even a mightier power in France dead than she had been when alive.

The Earl of Warwick and the English Cardinal (Winchester) hurried to the castle and sent messengers flying for physicians.  Warwick was a hard man, a rude, coarse man, a man without compassion.  There lay the sick girl stretched in her chains in her iron cage—­not an object to move man to ungentle speech, one would think; yet Warwick spoke right out in her hearing and said to the physicians: 

“Mind you take good care of her.  The King of England has no mind to have her die a natural death.  She is dear to him, for he bought her dear, and he does not want her to die, save at the stake.  Now then, mind you cure her.”

The doctors asked Joan what had made her ill.  She said the Bishop of Beauvais had sent her a fish and she thought it was that.

Then Jean d’Estivet burst out on her, and called her names and abused her.  He understood Joan to be charging the Bishop with poisoning her, you see; and that was not pleasing to him, for he was one of Cauchon’s most loving and conscienceless slaves, and it outraged him to have Joan injure his master in the eyes of these great English chiefs, these being men who could ruin Cauchon and would promptly do it if they got the conviction that he was capable of saving Joan from the stake by poisoning her and thus cheating the English out of all the real value gainable by her purchase from the Duke of Burgundy.

Joan had a high fever, and the doctors proposed to bleed her.  Warwick said: 

“Be careful about that; she is smart and is capable of killing herself.”

He meant that to escape the stake she might undo the bandage and let herself bleed to death.