As Charles the Seventh, King of France, faced his people a mighty shout of "Noël! Noël! Noël!" came from the assembly, while crash of chimes, chanting voices, and music of instruments rolled through the arches, until the vaulted heights answered again and again. Throughout the ceremony, close to Charles upon the steps of the altar stood Jeanne with her standard in her hand. "It had borne the burden, it should share the glory," she said afterwards. "And a right fair thing it was to see the goodly manners of the King and the Maid. She who was in truth the cause of the crowning of the King and of all the assembly."[16] Pale with emotion Jeanne had stood watching every step of the ceremonial with intentness. When at last it was ended she could control herself no longer. Stepping forward she fell at the feet of the newly crowned monarch, embracing his knees, and weeping for joy. "Gentle King, now is the pleasure of God fulfilled--whose will it was that I should raise the siege of Orléans, and lead you to this city of Reims to receive your consecration. Now has He shown that you are the true King, and that the kingdom of France belongs to you alone." Soft, and low, and broken came the words. They pierced all hearts, and "right great pity came upon all those who saw her, and many wept."[17] Many wept. The girl was so young, so fair, so slight, yet what great deeds had she not wrought? In three months she had given France a king, and to the King, a country. In spite of obstacles that would seem incredible were they not a part of recorded history she had accomplished her mission. A great soul in which intense zeal was wedded to intense purpose had wrought marvels, and changed the destiny of a nation. Many wept, and the King too was moved. Perhaps at that moment he felt more gratitude towards the maiden than ever before or afterward. Lifting her, he said: "You have brought us to our crowning, beloved Maid. Speak, and whatsoever grace you ask it shall be granted." Again Jeanne fell upon her knees. "Most noble King, out of your grace I beseech you to grant that the taxes of my village be remitted. Its people are poor, and it brings great hardship upon them to pay." "Is that all, Jeanne?" "Yes, Sire." "Then in consideration of the great, high, notable, and profitable service which this, our beloved Jeanne the Maid, has rendered and daily renders us in the recovery of our Kingdom, in her favour and at her request, we therefore decree that Domremy, the native village of Jeanne D'Arc, Deliverer of France, be forever exempt from taxation." Again the people shouted fervently. They recognized the justice of the grant, and wondered only that she asked so little. "Noël! Noël! Noël!"[18] For centuries the privilege lasted, and against the names of Domremy and Greux, its adjoining village, in the tax gatherer's book was written: "Domremy ... Rien-La Pucelle," "Nothing--For the sake of the Maid."