LA HIRE. It is on the river Loire; and the English hold the bridgehead. He must ship his men across the river and upstream, if he is to take them in the rear. Well, he cannot, because there is a devil of a wind blowing the other way. He is tired of paying the priests to pray for a west wind. What he needs is a miracle. You tell me that what the girl did to Foul Mouthed Frank was no miracle. No matter: it finished Frank. If she changes the wind for Dunois, that may not be a miracle either; but it may finish the English. What harm is there in trying? THE ARCHBISHOP [_who has read the end of the letter and become more thoughtful_] It is true that De Baudricourt seems extraordinarily impressed. LA HIRE. De Baudricourt is a blazing ass; but he is a soldier; and if he thinks she can beat the English, all the rest of the army will think so too. LA TRÉMOUILLE [_to the Archbishop, who is hesitating_] Oh, let them have their way. Dunois’ men will give up the town in spite of him if somebody does not put some fresh spunk into them. THE ARCHBISHOP. The Church must examine the girl before anything decisive is done about her. However, since his Highness desires it, let her attend the Court. LA HIRE. I will find her and tell her. [_He goes out_]. CHARLES. Come with me, Bluebeard; and let us arrange so that she will not know who I am. You will pretend to be me. [_He goes out through the curtains_]. BLUEBEARD. Pretend to be that thing! Holy Michael! [_He follows the Dauphin_]. LA TRÉMOUILLE. I wonder will she pick him out! THE ARCHBISHOP. Of course she will. LA TRÉMOUILLE. Why? How is she to know? THE ARCHBISHOP. She will know what everybody in Chinon knows: that the Dauphin is the meanest-looking and worst-dressed figure in the Court, and that the man with the blue beard is Gilles de Rais. LA TRÉMOUILLE. I never thought of that. THE ARCHBISHOP. You are not so accustomed to miracles as I am. It is part of my profession. LA TRÉMOUILLE [_puzzled and a little scandalized_] But that would not be a miracle at all. THE ARCHBISHOP [_calmly_] Why not? LA TRÉMOUILLE. Well, come; what is a miracle? THE ARCHBISHOP. A miracle, my friend, is an event which creates faith. That is the purpose and nature of miracles. They may seem very wonderful to the people who witness them, and very simple to those who perform them. That does not matter: if they confirm or create faith they are true miracles. LA TRÉMOUILLE. Even when they are frauds, do you mean? THE ARCHBISHOP. Frauds deceive. An event which creates faith does not deceive: therefore it is not a fraud, but a miracle. LA TRÉMOUILLE [_scratching his neck in his perplexity_] Well, I suppose as you are an archbishop you must be right. It seems a bit fishy to me. But I am no churchman, and dont understand these matters.