Chapter 11

[_The_ Dauphin Charles, _with his suite: afterwards_ Joanna. _She is in armour, but without her helmet; and wears a garland in her hair._

DUNOIS [_steps forward_]. My heart made choice of her while she was lowly; This new honour raises not her merit Or my love. Here, in the presence of my King And of this holy Archbishop, I offer her My hand and princely rank, if she regard me As worthy to be hers.

CHARLES. Resistless Maid, Thou addest miracle to miracle! Henceforward I believe that nothing is Impossible to thee. Thou hast subdued This haughty spirit, that till now defied Th' omnipotence of Love.

LA HIRE [_steps forward_]. If I mistake not Joanna's form of mind, what most adorns her Is her modest heart. The rev'rence of the great She merits; but her thoughts will never rise So high. She strives not after giddy splendours: The true affection of a faithful soul Contents her, and the still, sequester'd lot Which with this hand I offer her.

CHARLES. Thou too, La Hire? Two valiant suitors, equal in Heroic virtue and renown of war! --Wilt thou, that hast united my dominions, Soften'd my opposers, part my firmest friends? Both may not gain thee, each deserving thee: Speak, then! Thy heart must here be arbiter.

AGNES SOREL [_approaches_]. Joanna is embarrass'd and surprised; I see the bashful crimson tinge her cheeks. Let her have time to ask her heart, to open Her clos'd bosom in trustful confidence With me. The moment is arriv'd when I In sisterly communion also may Approach the rigorous Maid, and offer her The solace of my faithful, silent breast. First let us women sit in secret judgment On this matter that concerns us; then expect What we shall have decided.

CHARLES [_about to go_]. Be it so, then!

JOANNA. Not so, Sire! 'Twas not the embarrassment Of virgin shame that dy'd my cheeks in crimson: To this lady I have nothing to confide, Which I need blush to speak of before men. Much am I honour'd by the preference Of these two noble Knights; but it was not To chase vain worldly grandeurs, that I left The shepherd moors; not in my hair to bind The bridal garland, that I girt myself With warlike armour. To far other work Am I appointed: and the spotless virgin Alone can do it. I am the soldier Of the God of Battles; to no living man Can I be wife.

ARCHBISHOP. As kindly help to man Was woman born; and in obeying Nature She best obeys and reverences Heaven. When the command of God who summon'd thee To battle is fulfull'd, thou wilt lay down Thy weapons, and return to that soft sex Which thou deny'st, which is not call'd to do The bloody work of war.

JOANNA. Father, as yet I know not how the Spirit will direct me: When the needful time comes round, His voice Will not be silent, and I will obey it. For the present, I am bid complete the task. He gave me. My sov'reign's brow is yet uncrown'd, His head unwetted by the holy oil, He is not yet a King.

CHARLES. We are journeying Towards Rheims.

JOANNA. Let us not linger by the way. Our foes are busy round us, shutting up Thy passage: I will lead thee through them all.

DUNOIS. And when the work shall be fulfill'd, when we Have marched in triumph into Rheims, Will not Joanna then--

JOANNA. If God see meet That I return with life and vict'ry from These broils, my task is ended, and the herdsmaid Has nothing more to do in her King's palace.

CHARLES [_taking her hand_]. It is the Spirit's voice impels thee now, And Love is mute in thy inspired bosom. Believe me, it will not be always mute! Our swords will rest; and Victory will lead Meek Peace by th' hand, and Joy will come again To ev'ry breast, and softer feelings waken In every heart: in thy heart also waken; And tears of sweetest longing wilt thou weep, Such as thine eyes have never shed. This heart, Now fill'd by Heav'n, will softly open To some terrestrial heart. Thou hast begun By blessing thousands; but thou wilt conclude By blessing one.

JOANNA. Dauphin! Art thou weary Of the heavenly vision, that thou seekest To deface its chosen vessel, wouldst degrade To common dust the Maid whom God has sent thee? Ye blind of heart! O ye of little faith! Heaven's brightness is about you, before your eyes Unveils its wonders; and ye see in me Nought but a woman. Dare a woman, think ye, Clothe herself in iron harness, and mingle In the wreck of battle? Woe, woe to me, If bearing in my hand th' avenging sword Of God, I bore in my vain heart a love To earthly man! Woe to me! It were better That I never had been born. No more, No more of this! Unless ye would awake the wrath Of HIM that dwells in me! The eye of man Desiring me is an abomination And a horror.

CHARLES. Cease! 'Tis vain to urge her.

JOANNA. Bid the trumpets sound! This loit'ring grieves And harasses me. Something chases me From sloth, and drives me forth to do my mission, Stern beck'ning me to my appointed doom.