JOAN. One thousand like me can stop them. Ten like me can stop them with God on our side. [_She rises impetuously, and goes at him, unable to sit quiet any longer_]. You do not understand, squire. Our soldiers are always beaten because they are fighting only to save their skins; and the shortest way to save your skin is to run away. Our knights are thinking only of the money they will make in ransoms: it is not kill or be killed with them, but pay or be paid. But I will teach them all to fight that the will of God may be done in France; and then they will drive the poor goddams before them like sheep. You and Polly will live to see the day when there will not be an English soldier on the soil of France; and there will be but one king there: not the feudal English king, but God’s French one. ROBERT [_to Poulengey_] This may be all rot, Polly; but the troops might swallow it, though nothing that we can say seems able to put any fight into them. Even the Dauphin might swallow it. And if she can put fight into him, she can put it into anybody. POULENGEY. I can see no harm in trying. Can you? And there is something about the girl— ROBERT [_turning to Joan_] Now listen you to me; and [_desperately_] dont cut in before I have time to think. JOAN [_plumping down on the stool again, like an obedient schoolgirl_] Yes, squire. ROBERT. Your orders are, that you are to go to Chinon under the escort of this gentleman and three of his friends. JOAN [_radiant, clasping her hands_] Oh, squire! Your head is all circled with light, like a saint’s. POULENGEY. How is she to get into the royal presence? ROBERT [_who has looked up for his halo rather apprehensively_] I dont know: how did she get into my presence? If the Dauphin can keep her out he is a better man than I take him for. [_Rising_] I will send her to Chinon; and she can say I sent her. Then let come what may: I can do no more. JOAN. And the dress? I may have a soldier’s dress, maynt I, squire? ROBERT. Have what you please. I wash my hands of it. JOAN [_wildly excited by her success_] Come, Polly. [_She dashes out_]. ROBERT [_shaking Poulengey’s hand_] Goodbye, old man, I am taking a big chance. Few other men would have done it. But as you say, there is something about her. POULENGEY. Yes: there is something about her. Goodbye. [_He goes out_]. _Robert, still very doubtful whether he has not been made a fool of by a crazy female, and a social inferior to boot, scratches his head and slowly comes back from the door._ _The steward runs in with a basket._ STEWARD. Sir, sir— ROBERT. What now? STEWARD. The hens are laying like mad, sir. Five dozen eggs! ROBERT [_stiffens convulsively; crosses himself; and forms with his pale lips the words_] Christ in heaven! [_Aloud but breathless_] She did come from God. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ SCENE II