CANON LOYSELEUR (listens and says to Joan in great hurry)--"It is the captain. Perhaps the jailer will carry out his threat, and take me away from you, dear daughter. There is but one means for us to meet again. Demand of the captain permission to have me as your confessor. He will not dare to decline. I shall then be able to hold to your lips the sacred wafer, the bread of the angels." The door opens with a great noise. A captain enters, followed by John and other keepers. THE CAPTAIN (pointing to the canon)--"Take that tonsured old scamp to another cell, and keep him on a fast." CANON LOYSELEUR--"Sir captain, I pray you, allow me to remain near Joan, my daughter in God." THE CAPTAIN--"If the witch is your daughter, then you must be Satan in person." CANON LOYSELEUR--"For pity's sake, do not separate us!" THE CAPTAIN (to John)--"Take away this priest of Beelzebub!" JOHN (brutally to the canon)--"Come, get up! Be quick about it!" Canon Loyseleur rises painfully from his couch of straw, clanking his chains all he can and uttering lamentable sighs. Joan advances toward the captain as far as her chain will allow her, and says in a sweet and imploring voice: JOAN DARC--"Sir, grant me a favor that never is denied to a prisoner. Allow me to take this holy man for my confessor." THE CAPTAIN--"Your confessor shall be the executioner, strumpet!" CANON LOYSELEUR (carrying his chained hands to his eyes)--"Oh, sir captain, you are merciless." JOHN (rudely pushing the canon)--"March! March! You will have time enough to cry in your cell." JOAN DARC--"Sir captain, do not spurn my prayer--allow the good priest to visit me occasionally as my confessor." THE CAPTAIN (feigns to be mollified)--"I shall consult the Duke of Warwick upon that. For the present (to John), take the priest of Satan away and thrust him into some other cell." CANON LOYSELEUR (following the jailer)--"Courage, noble Joan! Courage, my daughter! Remember what I told you! May the holy name of God be ever glorified." (He goes out.) JOAN DARC (with tears in her eyes)--"May God guard me from forgetting your advice. May the Lord preserve you, good Father!" (She drops exhausted upon the straw.) THE CAPTAIN (to John)--"Remove the irons from the prisoner. She is to be taken upstairs. The tribunal is in session." JOAN DARC (rises and shivers involuntarily)--"So soon!" THE CAPTAIN (with a savage laugh)--"At last I see you tremble, witch! Your bravery came from the devil!" Joan Darc smiles disdainfully. John and another jailer approach her to remove the irons that hold her by the feet and by the waist. She trembles with disgust and becomes purple with shame at the touch of these men's hands while they remove the irons from her limbs and body. Wounded not in her vanity but in her dignity at the thought of appearing before her judges in torn garments she says to the captain: