It appears possible that, emboldened by her amazing successes, the false Pucelle sought an interview with Charles VII. The authority, to be sure, is late. The King had a chamberlain, de Boisy, who survived till 1480, when he met Pierre Sala, one of the gentlemen of the chamber of Charles VIII. De Boisy, having served Charles VII., knew and told Sala the nature of the secret that was between that king and the true Maid. That such a secret existed is certain. Alain Chartier, the poet, may have been present, in March 1429, when the Maid spoke words to Charles VII. which filled him with a spiritual rapture. So Alain wrote to a foreign prince in July 1429. M. Quicherat avers that Alain was present: I cannot find this in his letter.* Any amount of evidence for the ‘sign’ given to the King, by his own statement, is found throughout the two trials, that of Rouen and that of Rehabilitation. Dunois, the famous Bastard of Orleans, told the story to Basin, Bishop of Lisieux; and at Rouen the French examiners of the Maid vainly tried to extort from her the secret.** In 1480, Boisy, who had been used to sleep in the bed of Charles VII., according to the odd custom of the time, told the secret to Sala. The Maid, in 1429, revealed to Charles the purpose of a secret prayer which he had made alone in his oratory, imploring light on the question of his legitimacy.*** M. Quicherat, no bigot, thinks that ‘the authenticity of the revelation is beyond the reach of doubt.’**** *Quicherat, Apercus Nouveaux, p. 62. Proces, v. p. 133. **For the complete evidence, see Quicherat, Apercus, pp. 61-66. ***Quicherat, v. p. 280, iv. pp. 258, 259, another and ampler account, in a MS. of 1500. Another, iv. p. 271: MS. of the period of Louis XII. ****Apercus, p. 60, Paris, 1850. Thus there was a secret between the true Maid and Charles VII. The King, of course, could not afford to let it be known that he had secretly doubted whether he were legitimate. Boisy alone, at some later date, was admitted to his confidence. Boisy went on to tell Sala that, ten years later (whether after 1429 or after 1431, the date of the Maid’s death, is uncertain), a pretended Pucelle, ‘very like the first,’ was brought to the King. He was in a garden, and bade one of his gentlemen personate him. The impostor was not deceived, for she knew that Charles, having hurt his foot, then wore a soft boot. She passed the gentleman, and walked straight to the King, ‘whereat he was astonished, and knew not what to say, but, gently saluting her, exclaimed, “Pucelle, my dear, you are right welcome back, in the name of God, who knows the secret that is between you and me.”’ The false Pucelle then knelt, confessed her sin, and cried for mercy. ‘For her treachery some were sorely punished, as in such a case was fitting.’*