JOAN. No! Did I make a man of thee after all, Charlie? CHARLES. I am Charles the Victorious now. I had to be brave because you were. Agnes put a little pluck into me too. JOAN. Agnes! Who was Agnes? CHARLES. Agnes Sorel. A woman I fell in love with. I dream of her often. I never dreamed of you before. JOAN. Is she dead, like me? CHARLES. Yes. But she was not like you. She was very beautiful. JOAN [_laughing heartily_] Ha ha! I was no beauty: I was always a rough one: a regular soldier. I might almost as well have been a man. Pity I wasnt: I should not have bothered you all so much then. But my head was in the skies; and the glory of God was upon me; and, man or woman, I should have bothered you as long as your noses were in the mud. Now tell me what has happened since you wise men knew no better than to make a heap of cinders of me? CHARLES. Your mother and brothers have sued the courts to have your case tried over again. And the courts have declared that your judges were full of corruption and cozenage, fraud and malice. JOAN. Not they. They were as honest a lot of poor fools as ever burned their betters. CHARLES. The sentence on you is broken, annihilated, annulled: null, non-existent, without value or effect. JOAN. I was burnt all the same. Can they unburn me? CHARLES. If they could, they would think twice before they did it. But they have decreed that a beautiful cross be placed where the stake stood, for your perpetual memory and for your salvation. JOAN. It is the memory and the salvation that sanctify the cross, not the cross that sanctifies the memory and the salvation. [_She turns away, forgetting him_] I shall outlast that cross. I shall be remembered when men will have forgotten where Rouen stood. CHARLES. There you go with your self-conceit, the same as ever! I think you might say a word of thanks to me for having had justice done at last. CAUCHON [_appearing at the window between them_] Liar! CHARLES. Thank you. JOAN. Why, if it isnt Peter Cauchon! How are you, Peter? What luck have you had since you burnt me? CAUCHON. None. I arraign the justice of Man. It is not the justice of God. JOAN. Still dreaming of justice, Peter? See what justice came to with me! But what has happened to thee? Art dead or alive? CAUCHON. Dead. Dishonored. They pursued me beyond the grave. They excommunicated my dead body: they dug it up and flung it into the common sewer. JOAN. Your dead body did not feel the spade and the sewer as my live body felt the fire. CAUCHON. But this thing that they have done against me hurts justice; destroys faith; saps the foundation of the Church. The solid earth sways like the treacherous sea beneath the feet of men and spirits alike when the innocent are slain in the name of law, and their wrongs are undone by slandering the pure of heart. JOAN. Well, well, Peter, I hope men will be the better for remembering me; and they would not remember me so well if you had not burnt me.