NOW THESE were nobles, you know, by decree of the King!--these precious
old infants. But they did not realize it; they could not be called
conscious of it; it was an abstraction, a phantom; to them it had no
substance; their minds could not take hold of it. No, they did not bother
about their nobility; they lived in their horses. The horses were solid;
they were visible facts, and would make a mighty stir in Domremy.
Presently something was said about the Coronation, and old D'Arc said it
was going to be a grand thing to be able to say, when they got home, that
they were present in the very town itself when it happened. Joan looked
troubled, and said:

"Ah, that reminds me. You were here and you didn't send me word. In the
town, indeed! Why, you could have sat with the other nobles, and ben
welcome; and could have looked upon the crowning itself, and carried that
home to tell. Ah, why did you use me so, and send me no word?"

The old father was embarrassed, now, quite visibly embarrassed, and had
the air of one who does not quite know what to say. But Joan was looking
up in his face, her hands upon his shoulders--waiting. He had to speak;
so presently he drew her to his breast, which was heaving with emotion;
and he said, getting out his words with difficulty:

"There, hide your face, child, and let your old father humble himself and
make his confession. I--I--don't you see, don't you understand?--I could
not know that these grandeurs would not turn your young head--it would be
only natural. I might shame you before these great per--"

"Father!"

"And then I was afraid, as remembering that cruel thing I said once in my