The Maid now clearly and emphatically revoked her submission. What she had said, she repeated, was said in dread of fire. "Do you believe," asked Cauchon, "that your Voices are those of St. Catherine and St. Margaret?" "Yes!" replied the Maid. "Their voices and God's!" These words were spoken on May 28th, to Cauchon, who had hastened to the prison, hearing that Joan had resumed man's apparel. Angrily he asked why she had done this. She answered that it was more convenient, among men, to wear men's dress. She had not understood that she had sworn never to wear it again; if she had broken a pledge in this, one had been broken with her, the promise that she should be released from fetters, and should receive the sacrament. "I would rather die," she said, "than remain in irons. If you will release me, and let me go to mass and lie in gentle prison, I will be good, and do what the Church desires." There was only one thing that the Church, as represented in the person of Pierre Cauchon, desired, and that was the end of her. She had "relapsed"; it was enough. He hurried joyfully away, passing in the courtyard Warwick and his men, who were waiting for news. "Farewell!" cried the Bishop of Beauvais. "Be of good cheer, for it is done." He summoned his Council in haste; they were all of his mind. Holy Church could have no further dealings with this impious and hardened prisoner. She must be given over to the secular arm, "with the prayer that there be no shedding of blood." Most sinister of all speakable words! At the stake, no need of blood-shedding. Early in the morning of May 29th Martin Ladvenu and Jean Toutmouillé came to the prison. The latter told the Maid briefly that she was to be burned. She wept, poor child, and cried out piteously. "Alas!" she said. "Will they treat me so horribly and cruelly, that my pure and uncorrupted body ("_corps net et entier, qui ne fut jamais corrompu_") must to-day be burned to ashes?" She would rather, she cried in her agony, be seven times beheaded than burn. "I appeal to God, the supreme Judge, against the wrongs that have been done me." At this moment Cauchon entered the prison. He must see with his own eyes how his victim received her condemnation. She turned upon him, and uttered the words which, wherever his name is spoken, whenever his image is conjured up, are written in flame upon his forehead: "_Bishop of Beauvais, it is through you I die. I summon you before your God and mine!_" Presently she composed herself; made confession to one of the monks, and asked for the Sacrament. After some haggling among her persecutors the elements were brought to her, albeit in slovenly fashion, bare of the priestly pomp which was their due.