_Orleans, May 29th, 1429. Dunois, aged 26, is pacing up and down a
patch of ground on the south bank of the silver Loire, commanding a long
view of the river in both directions. He has had his lance stuck up with
a pennon, which streams in a strong east wind. His shield with its bend
sinister lies beside it. He has his commander’s baton in his hand. He is
well built, carrying his armor easily. His broad brow and pointed chin
give him an equilaterally triangular face, already marked by active
service and responsibility, with the expression of a goodnatured and
capable man who has no affectations and no foolish illusions. His page
is sitting on the ground, elbows on knees, cheeks on fists, idly
watching the water. It is evening; and both man and boy are affected by
the loveliness of the Loire._
DUNOIS [_halting for a moment to glance up at the streaming pennon and
shake his head wearily before he resumes his pacing_] West wind, west
wind, west wind. Strumpet: steadfast when you should be wanton, wanton
when you should be steadfast. West wind on the silver Loire: what rhymes
to Loire? [_He looks again at the pennon, and shakes his fist at it_]
Change, curse you, change, English harlot of a wind, change. West, west,
I tell you. [_With a growl he resumes his march in silence, but soon
begins again_] West wind, wanton wind, wilful wind, womanish wind, false
wind from over the water, will you never blow again?
THE PAGE [_bounding to his feet_] See! There! There she goes!
DUNOIS [_startled from his reverie: eagerly_] Where? Who? The Maid?
THE PAGE. No: the kingfisher. Like blue lightning. She went into that
bush.
DUNOIS [_furiously disappointed_] Is that all? You infernal young idiot:
I have a mind to pitch you into the river.
THE PAGE [_not afraid, knowing his man_] It looked frightfully jolly,
that flash of blue. Look! There goes the other!
DUNOIS [_running eagerly to the river brim_] Where? Where?
THE PAGE [_pointing_] Passing the reeds.
DUNOIS [_delighted_] I see.
_They follow the flight until the bird takes cover._
THE PAGE. You blew me up because you were not in time to see them
yesterday.
DUNOIS. You knew I was expecting The Maid when you set up your yelping.
I will give you something to yelp for next time.
THE PAGE. Arnt they lovely? I wish I could catch them.
DUNOIS. Let me catch you trying to trap them, and I will put you in the
iron cage for a month to teach you what a cage feels like. You are an
abominable boy.
THE PAGE [_laughs, and squats down as before_] !
DUNOIS [_pacing_] Blue bird, blue bird, since I am friend to thee,
change thou the wind for me. No: it does not rhyme. He who has sinned
for thee: that’s better. No sense in it, though. [_He finds himself
close to the page_] You abominable boy! [_He turns away from him_] Mary
in the blue snood, kingfisher color: will you grudge me a west wind?
A SENTRY’S VOICE WESTWARD. Halt! Who goes there?
JOAN’S VOICE. The Maid.
DUNOIS. Let her pass. Hither, Maid! To me!
_Joan, in splendid armor, rushes in in a blazing rage. The wind drops;
and the pennon flaps idly down the lance; but Dunois is too much
occupied with Joan to notice it._
JOAN [_bluntly_] Be you Bastard of Orleans?
DUNOIS [_cool and stern, pointing to his shield_] You see the bend
sinister. Are you Joan the Maid?
JOAN. Sure.
DUNOIS. Where are your troops?
JOAN. Miles behind. They have cheated me. They have brought me to the
wrong side of the river.
DUNOIS. I told them to.
JOAN. Why did you? The English are on the other side!
DUNOIS. The English are on both sides.
JOAN. But Orleans is on the other side. We must fight the English there.
How can we cross the river?
DUNOIS [_grimly_] There is a bridge.
JOAN. In God’s name, then, let us cross the bridge, and fall on them.
DUNOIS. It seems simple; but it cannot be done.
JOAN. Who says so?
DUNOIS. I say so; and older and wiser heads than mine are of the same
opinion.
JOAN [_roundly_] Then your older and wiser heads are fatheads: they have
made a fool of you; and now they want to make a fool of me too, bringing
me to the wrong side of the river. Do you not know that I bring you
better help than ever came to any general or any town?
DUNOIS [_smiling patiently_] Your own?
JOAN. No: the help and counsel of the King of Heaven. Which is the way
to the bridge?
DUNOIS. You are impatient, Maid.
JOAN. Is this a time for patience? Our enemy is at our gates; and here
we stand doing nothing. Oh, why are you not fighting? Listen to me: I
will deliver you from fear. I—
DUNOIS [_laughing heartily, and waving her off_] No, no, my girl: if you
delivered me from fear I should be a good knight for a story book, but a
very bad commander for the army. Come! let me begin to make a soldier of
you. [_He takes her to the water’s edge_]. Do you see those two forts at
this end of the bridge? the big ones?
JOAN. Yes. Are they ours or the goddams’?
DUNOIS. Be quiet, and listen to me. If I were in either of those forts
with only ten men I could hold it against an army. The English have more
than ten times ten goddams in those forts to hold them against us.
JOAN. They cannot hold them against God. God did not give them the land
under those forts: they stole it from Him. He gave it to us. I will take
those forts.
DUNOIS. Single-handed?
JOAN. Our men will take them. I will lead them.
DUNOIS. Not a man will follow you.
JOAN. I will not look back to see whether anyone is following me.
DUNOIS [_recognizing her mettle, and clapping her heartily on the
shoulder_] Good. You have the makings of a soldier in you. You are in
love with war.
JOAN [_startled_] Oh! And the Archbishop said I was in love with
religion.
DUNOIS. I, God forgive me, am a little in love with war myself, the ugly
devil! I am like a man with two wives. Do you want to be like a woman
with two husbands?
JOAN [_matter-of-factly_] I will never take a husband. A man in Toul
took an action against me for breach of promise; but I never promised
him. I am a soldier: I do not want to be thought of as a woman. I will
not dress as a woman. I do not care for the things women care for. They
dream of lovers, and of money. I dream of leading a charge, and of
placing the big guns. You soldiers do not know how to use the big guns:
you think you can win battles with a great noise and smoke.
DUNOIS [_with a shrug_] True. Half the time the artillery is more
trouble than it is worth.
JOAN. Aye, lad; but you cannot fight stone walls with horses: you must
have guns, and much bigger guns too.
DUNOIS [_grinning at her familiarity, and echoing it_] Aye, lass; but a
good heart and a stout ladder will get over the stoniest wall.
JOAN. I will be first up the ladder when we reach the fort, Bastard. I
dare you to follow me.
DUNOIS. You must not dare a staff officer, Joan: only company officers
are allowed to indulge in displays of personal courage. Besides, you
must know that I welcome you as a saint, not as a soldier. I have
daredevils enough at my call, if they could help me.
JOAN. I am not a daredevil: I am a servant of God. My sword is sacred: I
found it behind the altar in the church of St Catherine, where God hid
it for me; and I may not strike a blow with it. My heart is full of
courage, not of anger. I will lead; and your men will follow: that is
all I can do. But I must do it: you shall not stop me.
DUNOIS. All in good time. Our men cannot take those forts by a sally
across the bridge. They must come by water, and take the English in the
rear on this side.
JOAN [_her military sense asserting itself_] Then make rafts and put big
guns on them; and let your men cross to us.
DUNOIS. The rafts are ready; and the men are embarked. But they must
wait for God.
JOAN. What do you mean? God is waiting for them.
DUNOIS. Let Him send us a wind then. My boats are downstream: they
cannot come up against both wind and current. We must wait until God
changes the wind. Come: let me take you to the church.
JOAN. No. I love church; but the English will not yield to prayers: they
understand nothing but hard knocks and slashes. I will not go to church
until we have beaten them.
DUNOIS. You must: I have business for you there.
JOAN. What business?
DUNOIS. To pray for a west wind. I have prayed; and I have given two
silver candlesticks; but my prayers are not answered. Yours may be: you
are young and innocent.
JOAN. Oh yes: you are right. I will pray: I will tell St Catherine: she
will make God give me a west wind. Quick: shew me the way to the church.
THE PAGE [_sneezes violently_] At-cha!!!
JOAN. God bless you, child! Coom, Bastard.
_They go out. The page rises to follow. He picks up the shield, and is
taking the spear as well when he notices the pennon, which is now
streaming eastward._
THE PAGE [_dropping the shield and calling excitedly after them_]
Seigneur! Seigneur! Mademoiselle!
DUNOIS [_running back_] What is it? The kingfisher? [_He looks eagerly
for it up the river_].
JOAN [_joining them_] Oh, a kingfisher! Where?
THE PAGE. No: the wind, the wind, the wind [_pointing to the pennon_]:
that is what made me sneeze.
DUNOIS [_looking at the pennon_] The wind has changed. [_He crosses
himself_] God has spoken. [_Kneeling and handing his baton to Joan_] You
command the king’s army. I am your soldier.
THE PAGE [_looking down the river_] The boats have put off. They are
ripping upstream like anything.
DUNOIS [_rising_] Now for the forts. You dared me to follow. Dare you
lead?
JOAN [_bursting into tears and flinging her arms round Dunois, kissing
him on both cheeks_] Dunois, dear comrade in arms, help me. My eyes are
blinded with tears. Set my foot on the ladder, and say “Up, Joan.”
DUNOIS [_dragging her out_] Never mind the tears: make for the flash of
the guns.
JOAN [_in a blaze of courage_] Ah!
DUNOIS [_dragging her along with him_] For God and Saint Dennis!
THE PAGE [_shrilly_] The Maid! The Maid! God and The Maid! Hurray-ay-ay!
[_He snatches up the shield and lance, and capers out after them, mad
with excitement_].
------------------------------------------------------------------------