_Joan, radiant, falls on her knees in thanksgiving to God. They all kneel, except the Archbishop, who gives his benediction with a sign, and La Trémouille, who collapses, cursing._ ------------------------------------------------------------------------ SCENE III _Orleans, May 29th, 1429. Dunois, aged 26, is pacing up and down a patch of ground on the south bank of the silver Loire, commanding a long view of the river in both directions. He has had his lance stuck up with a pennon, which streams in a strong east wind. His shield with its bend sinister lies beside it. He has his commander’s baton in his hand. He is well built, carrying his armor easily. His broad brow and pointed chin give him an equilaterally triangular face, already marked by active service and responsibility, with the expression of a goodnatured and capable man who has no affectations and no foolish illusions. His page is sitting on the ground, elbows on knees, cheeks on fists, idly watching the water. It is evening; and both man and boy are affected by the loveliness of the Loire._ DUNOIS [_halting for a moment to glance up at the streaming pennon and shake his head wearily before he resumes his pacing_] West wind, west wind, west wind. Strumpet: steadfast when you should be wanton, wanton when you should be steadfast. West wind on the silver Loire: what rhymes to Loire? [_He looks again at the pennon, and shakes his fist at it_] Change, curse you, change, English harlot of a wind, change. West, west, I tell you. [_With a growl he resumes his march in silence, but soon begins again_] West wind, wanton wind, wilful wind, womanish wind, false wind from over the water, will you never blow again? THE PAGE [_bounding to his feet_] See! There! There she goes! DUNOIS [_startled from his reverie: eagerly_] Where? Who? The Maid? THE PAGE. No: the kingfisher. Like blue lightning. She went into that bush. DUNOIS [_furiously disappointed_] Is that all? You infernal young idiot: I have a mind to pitch you into the river. THE PAGE [_not afraid, knowing his man_] It looked frightfully jolly, that flash of blue. Look! There goes the other! DUNOIS [_running eagerly to the river brim_] Where? Where? THE PAGE [_pointing_] Passing the reeds. DUNOIS [_delighted_] I see. _They follow the flight until the bird takes cover._ THE PAGE. You blew me up because you were not in time to see them yesterday. DUNOIS. You knew I was expecting The Maid when you set up your yelping. I will give you something to yelp for next time. THE PAGE. Arnt they lovely? I wish I could catch them. DUNOIS. Let me catch you trying to trap them, and I will put you in the iron cage for a month to teach you what a cage feels like. You are an abominable boy. THE PAGE [_laughs, and squats down as before_] !