“Would that I had many men of your way of thinking, friend,” she said.
“Maid,” spoke the abbot gravely, “attend now to what we shall say. We are sent to you from the King.”
“I know quite well that you are sent to question me,” spoke the maiden with spirit, “but of what avail is it? I know neither A nor B.”
At this the Committee began to ply her with questions.
“Why have you come to Court?” asked the abbot.
“I am come from the King of Heaven to raise the siege of Orléans, and to lead the Dauphin to Reims for his crowning and anointing,” she made answer.
“But what made you think of coming?” asked a professor of theology.
“Because of the great pity there was in Heaven for the realm of France, my Voices told me to come, nothing doubting,” replied the maiden earnestly.
“Your voices? What voices?”
Jeanne saw that much as she disliked to talk of her visions,––it was always of her mission and her Voices that she told,––there was need of some explanation. The grave Doctors listened attentively while she told something of her revelations, but not all. She was a peasant maid, ignorant, simple, her hands hardened with toil, her way of life humble and obscure, yet as she related her ineffable experiences she seemed a thing divine.