CHARLES. Good. Nobody can challenge my consecration now, can they? LADVENU. Not Charlemagne nor King David himself was more sacredly crowned. CHARLES [_rising_] Excellent. Think of what that means to me! LADVENU. I think of what it means to her! CHARLES. You cannot. None of us ever knew what anything meant to her. She was like nobody else; and she must take care of herself wherever she is; for _I_ cannot take care of her; and neither can you, whatever you may think: you are not big enough. But I will tell you this about her. If you could bring her back to life, they would burn her again within six months, for all their present adoration of her. And you would hold up the cross, too, just the same. So [_crossing himself_] let her rest; and let you and I mind our own business, and not meddle with hers. LADVENU. God forbid that I should have no share in her, nor she in me! [_He turns and strides out as he came, saying_] Henceforth my path will not lie through palaces, nor my conversation be with kings. CHARLES [_following him towards the door, and shouting after him_] Much good may it do you, holy man! [_He returns to the middle of the chamber, where he halts, and says quizzically to himself_] That was a funny chap. How did he get in? Where are my people? [_He goes impatiently to the bed, and swings the rattle. A rush of wind through the open door sets the walls swaying agitatedly. The candles go out. He calls in the darkness_] Hallo! Someone come and shut the windows: everything is being blown all over the place. [_A flash of summer lightning shews up the lancet windows. A figure is seen in silhouette against it_] Who is there? Who is that? Help! Murder! [_Thunder. He jumps into bed, and hides under the clothes_]. JOAN’S VOICE. Easy, Charlie, easy. What art making all that noise for? No one can hear thee. Thourt asleep. [_She is dimly seen in a pallid greenish light by the bedside_]. CHARLES [_peeping out_] Joan! Are you a ghost, Joan? JOAN. Hardly even that, lad. Can a poor burnt-up lass have a ghost? I am but a dream that thourt dreaming. [_The light increases: they become plainly visible as he sits up_] Thou looks older, lad. CHARLES. I am older. Am I really asleep? JOAN. Fallen asleep over thy silly book. CHARLES. That’s funny. JOAN. Not so funny as that I am dead, is it? CHARLES. Are you really dead? JOAN. As dead as anybody ever is, laddie. I am out of the body. CHARLES. Just fancy! Did it hurt much? JOAN. Did what hurt much? CHARLES. Being burnt. JOAN. Oh, that! I cannot remember very well. I think it did at first; but then it all got mixed up; and I was not in my right mind until I was free of the body. But do not thou go handling fire and thinking it will not hurt thee. How hast been ever since? CHARLES. Oh, not so bad. Do you know, I actually lead my army out and win battles? Down into the moat up to my waist in mud and blood. Up the ladders with the stones and hot pitch raining down. Like you.