Charles was puzzled: the courtiers shook their heads. Suppose this were a witch! For the Dauphin to receive a witch would be at once dangerous and discreditable. Let the young woman be examined, to find out whether, if she were really inspired, her inspiration were of heaven or of hell. Accordingly "certain clerks and priests, men expert in discerning good spirits from bad,"[30] visited Joan in the humble inn where she waited, and questioned her closely. She answered briefly; she could not speak freely save to the Dauphin alone. She had been sent to relieve Orleans and lead the prince to Rheims, there to be crowned king. This was all she had to say: but her simple faith, her transparent purity, so impressed the examiners, that they made a favorable report. There was no harm in the Maid, and since she professed to be the bearer of a divine message, it would be well for the Dauphin to receive her. Very reluctantly, Charles consented, and finally, one evening, a message summoned Joan to the castle. FOOTNOTES: [24] Lang. "Maid of France," p. 65. [25] Trans. Andrew Lang. [26] Trans. Andrew Lang. [27] Famous city, noble city, ancient city, verily first of earth. [28] Lowell. "Joan of Arc," p. 55. [29] Lang. "Maid of France," p. 76. [30] Lowell. "Joan of Arc," p. 57. CHAPTER VIII RECOGNITION Sera-elle point jamais trouvée Celle qui ayme Louyaulté? Eet qui a ferme voulenté Sans avoir legière pensée. Il convient qu'elle soi criée Pour en savoir la verité. Sera-elle point jamais trouvée Celle qui ayme Louyaulté? Je croy bien qu'elle est deffiée Des aliéz de Faulceté, Dont il y a si grant planté Que de paour elle s'est mussiée. Sera-elle point jamais trouvée? --_Charles d'Orleans._ It was morning of March 6th, 1429, when Joan rode out between her two faithful squires to seek the Dauphin. Gladly she rode, her eyes fixed on those white towers of Chinon where her mission was to be accepted, where she was to consecrate herself anew to the redemption of France. She felt no shadow of doubt; she never felt any, till her true work was done; yet, the old chronicles say, danger threatened her here at the outset. A band of outlaws, hearing of her approach, prepared an ambuscade, thinking to take the Maid and hold her for ransom. There they crouched in the woods hard by Chinon town, waiting; there they saw the little cavalcade draw near; the dark slender girl in her man's dress, the men-at-arms on either side; there they remained motionless, never stirring hand or foot, till the riders passed out of sight. Is it a true tale? If so, was it a miracle, as people thought then, the robbers held with invisible bonds, unable to stir hand or foot? Or was it--still greater marvel, perhaps--just the power of that uplifted look, the white radiance of that face under the steel cap, which turned the men's hearts from evil thoughts to good?