"Gentle Dauphin," she said, "I am called Joan the Maid. The King of Heaven sendeth you word by me that you shall be anointed and crowned in the city of Rheims, and shall be lieutenant of the King of Heaven, who is King of France. It is God's pleasure that our enemies, the English, should depart to their own country; if they depart not, evil will come to them, and the kingdom is sure to continue yours." Charles listened, impressed but not yet convinced. He talked with her a little, and sent her back to her lodging (in a tower of the castle this time, in charge of "one William Bellier, an officer of the castle, and his wife, a matron of character and piety"[32]) without making any definite answer. This was hard for the Maid to bear; she knew there was no time to lose; yet she went patiently; she was used to waiting, used to rebuffs. There in her tower lodging, many visitors came to her: churchmen, with searching questions as to her orthodoxy; captains, no less keen in inquiry as to her knowledge of arms: finally, "certain noble dames," deputed by the Dauphin, to determine whether she were pure virgin or no. Doubtless these many persons came in many moods; they all left in one; the Maid was a good Maid, gentle and simple: there was no harm in her. Again and again she sought audience of the Dauphin. She could do nothing with a printed page, but the heart of a man, especially of this man, was easy reading for her. "Gentle Dauphin," she said to him one day, "why do you not believe me? I say unto you that God hath compassion on you, your kingdom, and your people; St. Louis and Charlemagne are kneeling before Him, making prayer for you, and I will say unto you, so please you, a thing which will give you to understand that you ought to believe me."[33] One day, after mass, Charles led her into a chamber apart, where were only La Trémoïlle and one other. He was in one of his dark moods, his mind full of doubts and fears. Was he after all the rightful heir? In his closet that morning, he had prayed that if the kingdom were justly his, God might be pleased to defend it for him; if not, that he might find refuge in Scotland or in Spain. Joan, we may fancy, read all this in his face that day in the castle chamber. Taking him aside, she spoke long and earnestly. "What she said to him there is none who knows," wrote Alain Chartier the poet soon after, "but it is quite certain that he was all radiant with joy thereat as at a revelation from the Holy Spirit." Well he might be! on the authority of her Voices, "on behalf of her Lord," the Maid declared him "true heir of France, and son of the king." From that moment we may perhaps date the belief of Charles in her mission.