CHARLES [_triumphant, to the Court_] You see, all of you: she knew the blood royal. Who dare say now that I am not my father’s son? [_To Joan_] But if you want me to be crowned at Rheims you must talk to the Archbishop, not to me. There he is [_he is standing behind her_] ! JOAN [_turning quickly, overwhelmed with emotion_] Oh, my lord! [_She falls on both knees before him, with bowed head, not daring to look up_] My lord: I am only a poor country girl; and you are filled with the blessedness and glory of God Himself; but you will touch me with your hands, and give me your blessing, wont you? BLUEBEARD [_whispering to La Trémouille_] The old fox blushes. LA TRÉMOUILLE. Another miracle! THE ARCHBISHOP [_touched, putting his hand on her head_] Child: you are in love with religion. JOAN [_startled: looking up at him_] Am I? I never thought of that. Is there any harm in it? THE ARCHBISHOP. There is no harm in it, my child. But there is danger. JOAN [_rising, with a sunflush of reckless happiness irradiating her face_] There is always danger, except in heaven. Oh, my lord, you have given me such strength, such courage. It must be a most wonderful thing to be Archbishop. _The Court smiles broadly: even titters a little._ THE ARCHBISHOP [_drawing himself up sensitively_] Gentlemen: your levity is rebuked by this maid’s faith. I am, God help me, all unworthy; but your mirth is a deadly sin. _Their faces fall. Dead silence._ BLUEBEARD. My lord: we were laughing at her, not at you. THE ARCHBISHOP. What? Not at my unworthiness but at her faith! Gilles de Rais: this maid prophesied that the blasphemer should be drowned in his sin— JOAN [_distressed_] No! THE ARCHBISHOP [_silencing her by a gesture_] I prophesy now that you will be hanged in yours if you do not learn when to laugh and when to pray. BLUEBEARD. My lord: I stand rebuked. I am sorry: I can say no more. But if you prophesy that I shall be hanged, I shall never be able to resist temptation, because I shall always be telling myself that I may as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb. _The courtiers take heart at this. There is more tittering._ JOAN [_scandalized_] You are an idle fellow, Bluebeard; and you have great impudence to answer the Archbishop. LA HIRE [_with a huge chuckle_] Well said, lass! Well said! JOAN [_impatiently to the Archbishop_] Oh, my lord, will you send all these silly folks away so that I may speak to the Dauphin alone? LA HIRE [_goodhumoredly_] I can take a hint. [_He salutes; turns on his heel; and goes out_]. THE ARCHBISHOP. Come, gentlemen. The Maid comes with God’s blessing, and must be obeyed.