“What is it, ma mie?” he asked.
“My father, my dear father, is standing there among the people,” she cried, waving her hand at the two rustics. “And with him stands my uncle, Durand Lassois: he who took me to Vaucouleurs, you remember?”
“I remember, Jeanne. We must see and speak with them both,” said the monarch graciously. “Bring them to us later.”
With another wave of her hand at the two the maiden passed on. In the evening Charles was led to a platform which had been erected before the cathedral, and there, amid the red glare of bonfires, flaming torches, the ringing of bells and the acclaiming shouts of the assembled people he was shown to the multitude by the peers of France, with the traditional proclamation:[15]
“Here is your King whom we, peers of France, crown as King and Sovereign Lord. And if there is a soul here who has any objection to make, let him speak and we will answer him. And to-morrow he shall be consecrated by the grace of the Holy Spirit if you have nothing to say against it.”
But the people shouted, “Noël! Noël! Noël!” in a frenzy of delight, and so this preliminary ceremony was concluded. There was feasting in the palace of the Archbishop that night. But Jeanne slipped away from it all and made her way quickly to the little inn called The Zebra, in front of the cathedral, which was kept by Alice Moreau, a widow, where she would find her father and uncle. To her delight her brothers had 277 come hither also, and when Jeanne entered Jacques was standing with an arm around each, his usually undemonstrative face beaming with gladness, for they had been telling him of Jeanne and her exploits. He started toward her as she came through the door, then stopped suddenly and stood gazing at her with doubt and hesitation, but Jeanne flung herself upon him with the abandonment of a child.
“Father!” she cried. “Dear, dear father! I did not hope for this. Oh! how glad I am to see you.”
Jacques could not utter a word for a moment, but held her close, close as though he would never let her go. When at last he spoke it was with choked and trembling accents.
“And do you forgive me, my little one? All the harshness and severity that I showed you? My child, I did not know, I did not understand––”
Jeanne smiled at him through her tears.