therefore, it is decreed that from this day forth Domremy, natal village
of Joan of Arc, Deliverer of France, called the Maid of Orleans, is freed
from all taxation forever." Whereat the silver horns blew a jubilant
blast.

There, you see, she had had a vision of this very scene the time she was
in a trance in the pastures of Domremy and we asked her to name to boon
she would demand of the King if he should ever chance to tell her she
might claim one. But whether she had the vision or not, this act showed
that after all the dizzy grandeurs that had come upon her, she was still
the same simple, unselfish creature that she was that day.

Yes, Charles VII. remitted those taxes "forever." Often the gratitude of
kings and nations fades and their promises are forgotten or deliberately
violated; but you, who are children of France, should remember with pride
that France has kept this one faithfully. Sixty-three years have gone by
since that day. The taxes of the region wherein Domremy lies have been
collected sixty-three times since then, and all the villages of that
region have paid except that one--Domremy. The tax-gatherer never visits
Domremy. Domremy has long ago forgotten what that dread sorrow-sowing
apparition is like. Sixty-three tax-books have been filed meantime, and
they lie yonder with the other public records, and any may see them that
desire it. At the top of every page in the sixty-three books stands the
name of a village, and below that name its weary burden of taxation is
figured out and displayed; in the case of all save one. It is true, just
as I tell you. In each of the sixty-three books there is a page headed
"Domremi," but under that name not a figure appears. Where the figures
should be, there are three words written; and the same words have been
written every year for all these years; yes, it is a blank page, with
always those grateful words lettered across the face of it--a touching