_They go out together through the curtains, which are presently withdrawn, revealing the full depth of the throne-room with the Court assembled. On the right are two Chairs of State on a dais. Bluebeard is standing theatrically on the dais, playing the king, and, like the courtiers, enjoying the joke rather obviously. There is a curtained arch in the wall behind the dais; but the main door, guarded by men-at-arms, is at the other side of the room; and a clear path across is kept and lined by the courtiers. Charles is in this path in the middle of the room. La Hire is on his right. The Archbishop, on his left, has taken his place by the dais: La Trémouille at the other side of it. The Duchess de la Trémouille, pretending to be the Queen, sits in the Consort’s chair, with a group of ladies in waiting close by, behind the Archbishop._ _The chatter of the courtiers makes such a noise that nobody notices the appearance of the page at the door._ THE PAGE. The Duke of—[_Nobody listens_]. The Duke of—[_The chatter continues. Indignant at his failure to command a hearing, he snatches the halberd of the nearest man-at-arms, and thumps the floor with it. The chatter ceases; and everybody looks at him in silence_]. Attention! [_He restores the halberd to the man-at-arms_]. The Duke of Vendôme presents Joan the Maid to his Majesty. CHARLES [_putting his finger on his lip_] Ssh! [_He hides behind the nearest courtier, peering out to see what happens_]. BLUEBEARD [_majestically_] Let her approach the throne. _Joan, dressed as a soldier, with her hair bobbed and hanging thickly round her face, is led in by a bashful and speechless nobleman, from whom she detaches herself to stop and look round eagerly for the Dauphin._ THE DUCHESS [_to the nearest lady in waiting_] My dear! Her hair! _All the ladies explode in uncontrollable laughter._ BLUEBEARD [_trying not to laugh, and waving his hand in deprecation of their merriment_] Ssh—ssh! Ladies! Ladies!! JOAN [_not at all embarrassed_] I wear it like this because I am a soldier. Where be Dauphin? _A titter runs through the Court as she walks to the dais._ BLUEBEARD [_condescendingly_] You are in the presence of the Dauphin. _Joan looks at him sceptically for a moment, scanning him hard up and down to make sure. Dead silence, all watching her. Fun dawns in her face._ JOAN. Coom, Bluebeard! Thou canst not fool me. Where be Dauphin? _A roar of laughter breaks out as Gilles, with a gesture of surrender, joins in the laugh, and jumps down from the dais beside La Trémouille. Joan, also on the broad grin, turns back, searching along the row of courtiers, and presently makes a dive, and drags out Charles by the arm._ JOAN [_releasing him and bobbing him a little curtsey_] Gentle little Dauphin, I am sent to you to drive the English away from Orleans and from France, and to crown you king in the cathedral at Rheims, where all true kings of France are crowned.