"She merely wished to soak herself in blood!"
"And the Church pardons her!"
"At one time I felt great pity for the wretch. Now I say with the English, Death to the tigress who lived on blood!"
"You fools! Do you believe these priests? Do you think Joan went after battle to drink the blood of the slain?"
"You defend her?"
"Yes! Oh, why am I alone?"
"You are a traitor!"
"He is an Armagnac!"
"Death to the Armagnac!"
The mob beats Joan's defender to death. As to herself, her condition is now such that she no longer is aware of aught she hears or says. She has practically lost consciousness. She barely has enough strength to respond mechanically, "I confess it," each time she hears Bishop Cauchon ask her, "Do you confess it?" In the midst, however, of her weakness and the wandering of her mind, one thought she is fully conscious of, the thought that her agony cannot last long; within a short time she would be dead or free! Poor martyr!