Joan was lifted on Napoleon, where, having no spear to carry and both hands free to clutch the saddle, she felt quite fearless, especially since Virginia led her steed; and, followed by a train of sympathetic courtiers, was carried to The Hermitage, where her ankle, which was not badly hurt, was carefully bandaged. Meanwhile, Virginia, raised all at once to the dignity of a Senior, rehearsed her lines, and tried with the help of Lucile to pronounce the impossible French syllables.
By three o’clock that afternoon the hillside amphitheater was crowded with guests, the number of relatives and friends being increased by many Hillcrest residents, who never failed to enjoy the Commencement “doings.” Prominent among those who awaited appearance of the pageant, was a tall, soldierly-looking gentleman, who sat beside Virginia’s father, and seemed to enjoy talking of a certain little girl, with whom he had journeyed East nine months before. Every now and then he bestowed proud glances upon his grandson, who had accompanied him, and who had already found in Jack Williams a pleasant companion.
“I couldn’t resist bringing my grandson to meet Miss Virginia,” the old gentleman explained, “and I’m doubly glad I did come, for I’m delighted to meet her father.”
Virginia’s father evidently enjoyed Colonel Standish, for they found many subjects of conversation, and talked until a herald, clad in crimson and white, the Senior colors, appeared from the forest, and blowing a trumpet, announced in quaint language that the pageant was about to begin:
“Lords and ladies, passing fair,
I would now to you declare
That before your very eyes
Those from out the past arise.”
The first to arise from out the shadowy past were Hector and Andromache, clad in Trojan costumes. In Homer’s tongue they bade each other farewell, while Andromache lifted her infant son (the janitor’s baby, borrowed for the occasion) to kiss his fierce father, armed with helmet, shield, and spear, before he should go out to fight the great Achilles. True to the Homeric legend, the baby cried in fright, and was hurriedly returned to the janitor’s wife, who waited in the shadow of the trees. Demosthenes hurled in good Greek a “philippic” against the Macedonian King, and Cicero cursed Cataline in fiery Latin. Then followed the great Augustus, who sat upon the much-bedecked Napoleon and gloried in his triumph; Roland, who fell gallantly from his steed in the Pass of Roncesvalles, blowing his horn with his last breath to warn the soldiers of Charlemagne of his disaster; and the Black Prince, who, on his way to Crecy, paused to give an oration on the valor of the English.
Now it was time for Joan of Arc, who, her peasant robes covering her bandaged ankle, sat in the forests of Domremy, and with sweet, up-turned face listened to the voices of angels. Convinced that she had a mission to perform, she sought the old priest as he walked one day in the forest, and told him of her visions; but he, in perfect though rather halfhearted French, discouraged her, and sent her home to help her mother in the kitchen. A year passed, and Joan having at last convinced the priest and the governor of Domremy, was allowed to proceed to the Dauphin, and declare her message from God.