building. The cathedral was packed with people--people in thousands. Only
a wide space down the center had been kept free. Down this space walked
the Archbishop and his canons, and after them followed those five stately
figures in splendid harness, each bearing his feudal banner--and riding!

Oh, that was a magnificent thing to see. Riding down the cavernous
vastness of the building through the rich lights streaming in long rays
from the pictured windows--oh, there was never anything so grand!

They rode clear to the choir--as much as four hundred feet from the door,
it was said. Then the Archbishop dismissed them, and they made deep
obeisance till their plumes touched their horses' necks, then made those
proud prancing and mincing and dancing creatures go backward all the way
to the door--which was pretty to see, and graceful; then they stood them
on their hind-feet and spun them around and plunged away and disappeared.

For some minutes there was a deep hush, a waiting pause; a silence so
profound that it was as if all those packed thousands there were steeped
in dreamless slumber--why, you could even notice the faintest sounds,
like the drowsy buzzing of insects; then came a mighty flood of rich
strains from four hundred silver trumpets, and then, framed in the
pointed archway of the great west door, appeared Joan and the King. They
advanced slowly, side by side, through a tempest of welcome--explosion
after explosion of cheers and cries, mingled with the deep thunders of
the organ and rolling tides of triumphant song from chanting choirs.
Behind Joan and the King came the Paladin and the Banner displayed; and a
majestic figure he was, and most proud and lofty in his bearing, for he
knew that the people were marking him and taking note of the gorgeous
state dress which covered his armor.