A t.i.tter runs through the Court as she walks to the dais.
BLUEBEARD [condescendingly] You are in the presence of the Dauphin.
Joan looks at him sceptically for a moment, scanning him hard up and down to make sure. Dead silence, all watching her. Fun dawns in her face.
JOAN. Coom, Bluebeard! Thou canst not fool me. Where be Dauphin?
A roar of laughter breaks out as Gilles, with a gesture of surrender, joins in the laugh, and jumps down from the dais beside La Tremouille. Joan, also on the broad grin, turns back, searching along the row of courtiers, and presently makes a dive, and drags out Charles by the arm.
JOAN [releasing him and bobbing him a little curtsey] Gentle little Dauphin, I am sent to you to drive the English away from Orleans and from France, and to crown you king in the cathedral at Rheims, where all true kings of France are crowned.
CHARLES [triumphant, to the Court] You see, all of you: she knew the blood royal. Who dare say now that I am not my father"s son?
[To Joan] But if you want me to be crowned at Rheims you must talk to the Archbishop, not to me. There he is [he is standing behind her]!
JOAN [turning quickly, overwhelmed with emotion] Oh, my lord! [She falls on both knees before him, with bowed head, not daring to look up] My lord: I am only a poor country girl; and you are filled with the blessedness and glory of G.o.d Himself; but you will touch me with your hands, and give me your blessing, wont you?
BLUEBEARD [whispering to La Tremouille] The old fox blushes.
LA TREMOUILLE. Another miracle!
THE ARCHBISHOP [touched, putting his hand on her head] Child: you are in love with religion.
JOAN [startled: looking up at him] Am I? I never thought of that.
Is there any harm in it?
THE ARCHBISHOP. There is no harm in it, my child. But there is danger.
JOAN [rising, with a sunflush of reckless happiness irradiating her face] There is always danger, except in heaven. Oh, my lord, you have given me such strength, such courage. It must be a most wonderful thing to be Archbishop.
The Court smiles broadly: even t.i.tters a little.
THE ARCHBISHOP [drawing himself up sensitively] Gentlemen: your levity is rebuked by this maid"s faith. I am, G.o.d help me, all unworthy; but your mirth is a deadly sin.
Their faces fall. Dead silence.
BLUEBEARD. My lord: we were laughing at her, not at you.
THE ARCHBISHOP. What? Not at my unworthiness but at her faith!
Gilles de Rais: this maid prophesied that the blasphemer should be drowned in his sin--
JOAN [distressed] No!
THE ARCHBISHOP [silencing her by a gesture] I prophesy now that you will be hanged in yours if you do not learn when to laugh and when to pray.
BLUEBEARD. My lord: I stand rebuked. I am sorry: I can say no more. But if you prophesy that I shall be hanged, I shall never be able to resist temptation, because I shall always be telling myself that I may as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb.
The courtiers take heart at this. There is more t.i.ttering.
JOAN [scandalized] You are an idle fellow, Bluebeard; and you have great impudence to answer the Archbishop.
LA HIRE [with a huge chuckle] Well said, la.s.s! Well said!
JOAN [impatiently to the Archbishop] Oh, my lord, will you send all these silly folks away so that I may speak to the Dauphin alone?
LA HIRE [goodhumoredly] I can take a hint. [He salutes; turns on his heel; and goes out].
THE ARCHBISHOP. Come, gentlemen. The Maid comes with G.o.d"s blessing, and must be obeyed.
The courtiers withdraw, some through the arch, others at the opposite side. The Archbishop marches across to the door, followed by the d.u.c.h.ess and La Tremouille. As the Archbishop pa.s.ses Joan, she falls on her knees, and kisses the hem of his robe fervently.
He shakes his head in instinctive remonstrance; gathers the robe from her; and goes out. She is left kneeling directly in the d.u.c.h.ess"s way.
THE d.u.c.h.eSS [coldly] Will you allow me to pa.s.s, please?
JOAN [hastily rising, and standing back] Beg pardon, maam, I am sure.
The d.u.c.h.ess pa.s.ses on. Joan stares after her; then whispers to the Dauphin.
JOAN. Be that Queen?
CHARLES. No. She thinks she is.
JOAN [again staring after the d.u.c.h.ess] Oo-oo-ooh! [Her awestruck amazement at the figure cut by the magnificently dressed lady is not wholly complimentary].
LA TREMOUILLE [very surly] I"ll trouble your Highness not to gibe at my wife. [He goes out. The others have already gone].
JOAN [to the Dauphin] Who be old Gruff-and-Grum?
CHARLES. He is the Duke de la Tremouille.
JOAN. What be his job?
CHARLES. He pretends to command the army. And whenever I find a friend I can care for, he kills him.
JOAN. Why dost let him?
CHARLES [petulantly moving to the throne side of the room to escape from her magnetic field] How can I prevent him? He bullies me.
They all bully me.
JOAN. Art afraid?
CHARLES. Yes: I am afraid. It"s no use preaching to me about it.
It"s all very well for these big men with their armor that is too heavy for me, and their swords that I can hardly lift, and their muscle and their shouting and their bad tempers. They like fighting: most of them are making fools of themselves all the time they are not fighting; but I am quiet and sensible; and I dont want to kill people: I only want to be left alone to enjoy myself in my own way. I never asked to be a king: it was pushed on me. So if you are going to say "Son of St Louis: gird on the sword of your ancestors, and lead us to victory" you may spare your breath to cool your porridge; for I cannot do it. I am not built that way; and there is an end of it.
JOAN [trenchant and masterful] Blethers! We are all like that to begin with. I shall put courage into thee.
CHARLES. But I dont want to have courage put into me. I want to sleep in a comfortable bed, and not live in continual terror of being killed or wounded. Put courage into the others, and let them have their bellyful of fighting; but let me alone.
JOAN. It"s no use, Charlie: thou must face what G.o.d puts on thee.
If thou fail to make thyself king, thoult be a beggar: what else art fit for? Come! Let me see thee sitting on the throne. I have looked forward to that.