STEWARD. Down in the courtyard, sir, talking to the soldiers as usual. She is always talking to the soldiers except when she is praying. ROBERT. Praying! Ha! You believe she prays, you idiot. I know the sort of girl that is always talking to soldiers. She shall talk to me a bit. [_He goes to the window and shouts fiercely through it_] Hallo, you there! A GIRL’S VOICE [_bright, strong and rough_] Is it me, sir? ROBERT. Yes, you. THE VOICE. Be you captain? ROBERT. Yes, damn your impudence, I be captain. Come up here. [_To the soldiers in the yard_] Shew her the way, you. And shove her along quick. [_He leaves the window and returns to his place at the table, where he sits magisterially._] STEWARD [_whispering_] She wants to go and be a soldier herself. She wants you to give her soldier’s clothes. Armor, sir! And a sword! Actually! [_He steals behind Robert_]. _Joan appears in the turret doorway. She is an ablebodied country girl of 17 or 18, respectably dressed in red, with an uncommon face: eyes very wide apart and bulging as they often do in very imaginative people, a long well-shaped nose with wide nostrils, a short upper lip, resolute but full-lipped mouth, and handsome fighting chin. She comes eagerly to the table, delighted at having penetrated to Baudricourt’s presence at last, and full of hope as to the result. His scowl does not check or frighten her in the least. Her voice is normally a hearty coaxing voice, very confident, very appealing, very hard to resist._ JOAN [_bobbing a curtsey_] Good morning, captain squire. Captain: you are to give me a horse and armor and some soldiers, and send me to the Dauphin. Those are your orders from my Lord. ROBERT [_outraged_] Orders from your lord! And who the devil may your lord be? Go back to him, and tell him that I am neither duke nor peer at his orders: I am squire of Baudricourt; and I take no orders except from the king. JOAN [_reassuringly_] Yes, squire: that is all right. My Lord is the King of Heaven. ROBERT. Why, the girl’s mad. [_To the steward_] Why didnt you tell me so, you blockhead? STEWARD. Sir: do not anger her: give her what she wants. JOAN [_impatient, but friendly_] They all say I am mad until I talk to them, squire. But you see that it is the will of God that you are to do what He has put into my mind. ROBERT. It is the will of God that I shall send you back to your father with orders to put you under lock and key and thrash the madness out of you. What have you to say to that? JOAN. You think you will, squire; but you will find it all coming quite different. You said you would not see me; but here I am. STEWARD [_appealing_] Yes, sir. You see, sir. ROBERT. Hold your tongue, you. STEWARD [_abjectly_] Yes, sir. ROBERT [_to Joan, with a sour loss of confidence_] So you are presuming on my seeing you, are you? JOAN [_sweetly_] Yes, squire.