Virginia’s father evidently enjoyed Colonel Standish, for they found many subjects of conversation, and talked until a herald, clad in crimson and white, the Senior colors, appeared from the forest, and blowing a trumpet, announced in quaint language that the pageant was about to begin: “Lords and ladies, passing fair, I would now to you declare That before your very eyes Those from out the past arise.” The first to arise from out the shadowy past were Hector and Andromache, clad in Trojan costumes. In Homer’s tongue they bade each other farewell, while Andromache lifted her infant son (the janitor’s baby, borrowed for the occasion) to kiss his fierce father, armed with helmet, shield, and spear, before he should go out to fight the great Achilles. True to the Homeric legend, the baby cried in fright, and was hurriedly returned to the janitor’s wife, who waited in the shadow of the trees. Demosthenes hurled in good Greek a “philippic” against the Macedonian King, and Cicero cursed Cataline in fiery Latin. Then followed the great Augustus, who sat upon the much-bedecked Napoleon and gloried in his triumph; Roland, who fell gallantly from his steed in the Pass of Roncesvalles, blowing his horn with his last breath to warn the soldiers of Charlemagne of his disaster; and the Black Prince, who, on his way to Crecy, paused to give an oration on the valor of the English. Now it was time for Joan of Arc, who, her peasant robes covering her bandaged ankle, sat in the forests of Domremy, and with sweet, up-turned face listened to the voices of angels. Convinced that she had a mission to perform, she sought the old priest as he walked one day in the forest, and told him of her visions; but he, in perfect though rather halfhearted French, discouraged her, and sent her home to help her mother in the kitchen. A year passed, and Joan having at last convinced the priest and the governor of Domremy, was allowed to proceed to the Dauphin, and declare her message from God. In the last scene, a new Joan, clad in a shining helmet, a suit of armor, and bearing a shield and spear, rode from the wood into the meadow. She sat her horse like a knight of old, holding her reins in her left hand, on which arm she bore her shield, and in her right hand bearing her spear aloft. In her gray eyes was the memory of the Domremy visions; on her face the determination to save her country. Before her walked the little priest, who could not resist glancing back every now and then to be sure Napoleon was not too near his heels. Behind her on either side came two armed retainers.