Produced by Suzanne Shell, Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) JOAN OF ARC Books By Laura E. Richards Joan of Arc A Daughter of Jehu Abigail Adams and Her Times Pippin Elizabeth Fry Florence Nightingale Mrs. Tree Mrs. Tree's Will Miss Jimmy The Wooing of Calvin Parks Journal and Letters of Samuel Gridley Howe Two Noble Lives Captain January A Happy Little Time When I Was Your Age Five Minute Stories In My Nursery The Golden Windows The Silver Crown The Joyous Story of Toto The Life of Julia Ward Howe _With Maud Howe Elliott_, Etc., etc. [Illustration: JOAN OF ARC] JOAN OF ARC BY LAURA E. RICHARDS AUTHOR OF "FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE," "ABIGAIL ADAMS AND HER TIMES," "ELIZABETH FRY," ETC. [Illustration: Logo] D. APPLETON AND COMPANY NEW YORK LONDON 1919 COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA TO THE MEMORY OF THEODORE ROOSEVELT "ALSO A SOLDIER" The extracts from "Joan of Arc," by Francis C. Lowell, are used by permission of Houghton Mifflin Company. Selections from "The Maid of France," by Andrew Lang, are used by permission of Messrs. Longmans, Green & Co. Theodosia Garrison's poem, "The Soul of Jeanne d'Arc," is reproduced by permission of Chas. Scribner's Sons. CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I. FRANCE IMPERISHABLE 1 II. THE LION AND THE LILIES 19 III. DOMRÉMY 32 IV. GRAPES OF WRATH 46 V. THE VOICES 57 VI. THE EMPTY THRONE 69 VII. VAUCOULEURS AND CHINON 83 VIII. RECOGNITION 100 IX. ORLEANS 117 X. THE RELIEF 132 XI. THE DELIVERANCE 142 XII. THE WEEK OF VICTORIES 163 XIII. RHEIMS 181 XIV. PARIS 197 XV. COMPIÈGNE 214 XVI. ROUEN 239 CHAPTER I FRANCE IMPERISHABLE THE SOUL OF JEANNE D'ARC She came not into the Presence as a martyred saint might come, Crowned, white-robed and adoring, with very reverence dumb-- She stood as a straight young soldier, confident, gallant, strong, Who asks a boon of his captain in the sudden hush of the drum. She said: "Now have I stayed too long in this my place of bliss, With these glad dead that, comforted, forget what sorrow is Upon that world whose stony stair they climbed to come to this. "But lo, a cry hath torn the peace wherein so long I stayed, Like a trumpet's call at Heaven's wall from a herald unafraid,-- A million voices in one cry, '_Where is the Maid, the Maid?_' "I had forgot from too much joy that olden task of mine, But I have heard a certain word shatter the chant divine, Have watched a banner glow and grow before mine eyes for sign.