Paul. Then you believe that she will speak?
Fred. You go to sleep, cockey, and there's no knowing what you'll hear. Come on, old sport. Je dormir and vous dormir, and we'll be a blooming dormitory. [Paul hesitates, looks at statue, then lies by Fred.] That's right. Lie close. Two can keep warmer than one. Oh well, good-night all. Merry Christmas, and to hell with the Kaiser. [They sleep. The statue is darkened, and the lay figure of the statue is replaced by the living Jeanne. Bells chime midnight. As they begin, Jeanne awakes. With the first chime, light shines dimly on the statue. By the last chime, the statue is in brilliant light and Jeanne stirs on the pedestal and bends to the wreath. She lifts it, wondering.
Jeanne. The wreath is here. I did not dream it, then. I saw him come and lay the wreath at my feet. I saw his uniform, and the uniform was not of France. I saw his face, and it was not a Frenchman's face. I heard his voice, and the voice was an English voice. I do not understand. Why should the English bring a wreath to me? I do not want their wreath. I want no favors from an Englishman. I am Jeanne d'Arc. I am your enemy, you English, whom I made to bite the dust at Orléans and vanquished at Patay. It was I who bore the standard into the cathedral at Rheims when we crowned my Dauphin the anointed King of France, and English Bedford trembled at my name. Burgundians took me at Compiègne. Your English money bought me from them, and your English hatred gave me up to mocking priests to try for sorcery. You called me "Heretic," "Relapsed," "Apostate," and "Idolater," and burnt me for a witch in Rouen market-place. And now do you lay a wreath at Jeanne's feet? And do you think she thanks you? I scorn your wreath. This wreath an English soldier set at Jeanne's feet. I tear it, and I trample on it. [Fred and Paul have awakened during this speech. Both are bewildered at first, like men who dream. But as Jeanne is about to tear the wreath Fred interposes.]
Fred. I dunno if I'm awake or asleep, but that there wreath, lady—I say, don't tear it. I don't know nothing about it bar what you've just said, but if any of our blokes put it there, you can take it from me it was kindly meant.
Jeanne. You? Who are you? You're—You're English.
Fred [apologetically]. Yus. I'm English. I don't see that I can help it, though. I just happen to be English same as a dawg. I'm sorry if it upsets you, but I'm English all right. And—No. Blimey, I won't apologize for it. I'm English. I'm English, and proud of it. So there!
Jeanne. Why are the English here in France? Why do I see so many of them?
Paul. Maid—Jeanne—
Jeanne. You! You are not English. You are a soldier of France.
Paul. I am of France.