they now? French ones--and they never cost a blow!" Here applause broke
out from the group of generals, and Joan had to pause a moment to let it
subside. "Yes, English strongholds bristled before us; now French ones
bristle behind us. What is the argument? A child can read it. The
strongholds between us and Paris are garrisoned by no new breed of
English, but by the same breed as those others--with the same fears, the
same questionings, the same weaknesses, the same disposition to see the
heavy hand of God descending upon them. We have but to march!--on the
instant--and they are ours, Paris is ours, France is ours! Give the word,
O my King, command your servant to--"

"Stay!" cried the Chancellor. "It would be madness to put our affront
upon his Highness the Duke of Burgundy. By the treaty which we have every
hope to make with him--"

"Oh, the treaty which we hope to make with him! He has scorned you for
years, and defied you. Is it your subtle persuasions that have softened
his manners and beguiled him to listen to proposals? No; it was
blows!--the blows which we gave him! That is the only teaching that that
sturdy rebel can understand. What does he care for wind? The treaty which
we hope to make with him--alack! He deliver Paris! There is no pauper in
the land that is less able to do it. He deliver Paris! Ah, but that would
make great Bedford smile! Oh, the pitiful pretext! the blind can see that
this thin pour-parler with its fifteen-day truce has no purpose but to
give Bedford time to hurry forward his forces against us. More
treachery--always treachery! We call a council of war--with nothing to
council about; but Bedford calls no council to teach him what our course
is. He knows what he would do in our place. He would hang his traitors
and march upon Paris! O gentle King, rouse! The way is open, Paris
beckons, France implores, Speak and we--"