But the doctors bled her anyway, and then she was better.

Not for long, though.  Jean d’Estivet could not hold still, he was so worried and angry about the suspicion of poisoning which Joan had hinted at; so he came back in the evening and stormed at her till he brought the fever all back again.

When Warwick heard of this he was in a fine temper, you may be sure, for here was his prey threatening to escape again, and all through the over-zeal of this meddling fool.  Warwick gave D’Estivet a quite admirable cursing—­admirable as to strength, I mean, for it was said by persons of culture that the art of it was not good—­and after that the meddler kept still.

Joan remained ill more than two weeks; then she grew better.  She was still very weak, but she could bear a little persecution now without much danger to her life.  It seemed to Cauchon a good time to furnish it.  So he called together some of his doctors of theology and went to her dungeon.  Manchon and I went along to keep the record—­that is, to set down what might be useful to Cauchon, and leave out the rest.

The sight of Joan gave me a shock.  Why, she was but a shadow!  It was difficult for me to realize that this frail little creature with the sad face and drooping form was the same Joan of Arc that I had so often seen, all fire and enthusiasm, charging through a hail of death and the lightning and thunder of the guns at the head of her battalions.  It wrung my heart to see her looking like this.

But Cauchon was not touched.  He made another of those conscienceless speeches of his, all dripping with hypocrisy and guile.  He told Joan that among her answers had been some which had seemed to endanger religion; and as she was ignorant and without knowledge of the Scriptures, he had brought some good and wise men to instruct her, if she desired it.  Said he, “We are churchmen, and disposed by our good will as well as by our vocation to procure for you the salvation of your soul and your body, in every way in our power, just as we would do the like for our nearest kin or for ourselves.  In this we but follow the example of Holy Church, who never closes the refuge of her bosom against any that are willing to return.”

Joan thanked him for these sayings and said: 

“I seem to be in danger of death from this malady; if it be the pleasure of God that I die here, I beg that I may be heard in confession and also receive my Saviour; and that I may be buried in consecrated ground.”

Cauchon thought he saw his opportunity at last; this weakened body had the fear of an unblessed death before it and the pains of hell to follow.  This stubborn spirit would surrender now.  So he spoke out and said: 

“Then if you want the Sacraments, you must do as all good Catholics do, and submit to the Church.”

He was eager for her answer; but when it came there was no surrender in it, she still stood to her guns.  She turned her head away and said wearily: