_The courtiers withdraw, some through the arch, others at the opposite side. The Archbishop marches across to the door, followed by the Duchess and La Trémouille. As the Archbishop passes Joan, she falls on her knees, and kisses the hem of his robe fervently. He shakes his head in instinctive remonstrance; gathers the robe from her; and goes out. She is left kneeling directly in the Duchess’s way._ THE DUCHESS [_coldly_] Will you allow me to pass, please? JOAN [_hastily rising, and standing back_] Beg pardon, maam, I am sure. _The Duchess passes on. Joan stares after her; then whispers to the Dauphin._ JOAN. Be that Queen? CHARLES. No. She thinks she is. JOAN [_again staring after the Duchess_] Oo-oo-ooh! [_Her awestruck amazement at the figure cut by the magnificently dressed lady is not wholly complimentary_]. LA TRÉMOUILLE [_very surly_] I’ll trouble your Highness not to gibe at my wife. [_He goes out. The others have already gone_]. JOAN [_to the Dauphin_] Who be old Gruff-and-Grum? CHARLES. He is the Duke de la Trémouille. JOAN. What be his job? CHARLES. He pretends to command the army. And whenever I find a friend I can care for, he kills him. JOAN. Why dost let him? CHARLES [_petulantly moving to the throne side of the room to escape from her magnetic field_] How can I prevent him? He bullies me. They all bully me. JOAN. Art afraid? CHARLES. Yes: I am afraid. It’s no use preaching to me about it. It’s all very well for these big men with their armor that is too heavy for me, and their swords that I can hardly lift, and their muscle and their shouting and their bad tempers. They like fighting: most of them are making fools of themselves all the time they are not fighting; but I am quiet and sensible; and I dont want to kill people: I only want to be left alone to enjoy myself in my own way. I never asked to be a king: it was pushed on me. So if you are going to say “Son of St Louis: gird on the sword of your ancestors, and lead us to victory,” you may spare your breath to cool your porridge; for I cannot do it. I am not built that way; and there is an end of it. JOAN [_trenchant and masterful_] Blethers! We are all like that to begin with. I shall put courage into thee. CHARLES. But I dont want to have courage put into me. I want to sleep in a comfortable bed, and not live in continual terror of being killed or wounded. Put courage into the others, and let them have their bellyful of fighting; but let me alone. JOAN. It’s no use, Charlie: thou must face what God puts on thee. If thou fail to make thyself king, thoult be a beggar: what else art fit for? Come! Let me see thee sitting on the throne. I have looked forward to that. CHARLES. What is the good of sitting on the throne when the other fellows give all the orders? However! [_he sits enthroned, a piteous figure_] here is the king for you! Look your fill at the poor devil.