Over five hundred knights, lit by a forest of flaming torches, suddenly stood stock-still, their eyes fixed on the door. There appeared, with firm step, what looked like a young page boy, whose clothes of black and grey coarse cloth formed a striking contrast with their brocades, their furs of vair and ermine, and their tunics of embroidered silk. Bright green eyes, a bony face with high cheekbones, a helmet of close-cut dark hair and that subtle, almost natural animal gait acquired by those who are in the habit of walking barefoot . . . Truly this creature came from elsewhere and stood out in the midst of the courtiers, like a young fawn among the turkeys, peacocks and guinea fowl of a farmyard.

She had sent the Dauphin a peremptory message:

‘I have travelled fifty leagues through armed hands to bring you help. I have many good things to tell you. I shall be able to recognize you among all the people present.’

The gentlemen had laughed. Charles had smiled, in his usual forced way. Between the boy-girl who claimed to be sent from God and the false King, son of a crazed cuckold and a whore-like Queen, a strange game of concealment and recognition was to take place.

‘She claims to be able to recognize me among everybody,’ Charles had said. ‘Well, let her, then! Let us put her to the test. Let her come in and recognize the Dauphin among everybody!’

Thereupon he rose from the throne, which he yielded to the Comte de Clermont ― the very same who had been held in captivity by John the Fearless and freed on condition that he marry his daughter Agnès.

So there he stood, the young page with the bright eyes.

He looked around for the Dauphin. He hesitated in front of Clermont, then, seeing Charles, went up to him and knelt before him. How had he recognized him? By his heavy nose, his drooping mouth, his shaven head, his bandy legs? But he did not recognize her. He saw only a boy who wanted to pass himself off as a maid, a crank who claimed to be in daily commerce with the saints in heaven.

Yet the young page was already communicating some of his strength of conviction to that shadow of a king. With a few words, he swept away the doubts that hung over him like a flight of vultures. ‘I tell you from God that you are the true heir of France and a king’s son, and I am sent to take you to Rheims that you may be crowned and consecrated.’ So much enthusiasm must have some effect. A blush came to Charles’s cheeks and his eyes lit up. In Jeanne, he had recognized himself, a king from and by God. But he was far from recognizing her.

‘Jeanne of Domrémy, you claim to be a girl sent by God,’ he said. ‘Are you willing to submit to the tests that I shall impose on you?’

‘Lord Dauphin, you command, Jeanne obeys,’ she replied.

And he explained to her that she looked so much like a boy that he wanted her to be examined by two matrons present there: Jeanne de Preuilly, Dame de Gaucourt, and Jeanne de Mortemer, Dame de Trêves.

Poor Jeanne! It was the first time she had been undressed. It would not be the last. Meanwhile, the two matrons swelled with pride, in all their ridiculous finery. They rubbed their heavy, beringed hands together before feeling the virgin’s belly and the horseman’s thighs of the young page.

The other test was to answer questions on religious matters put by churchmen, learned clerks and theologians, who were to meet for this purpose in the good city of Poitiers.

Thus Jeanne had recognized Charles, who recognized himself through her. But in order to recognize Jeanne in turn, he required the opinion of experts as to her sex and opinions. Yet there was one man who recognized Jeanne at first glance, as soon as she entered the throne room. This was Gilles. Yes, he immediately recognized in her everything he loved, everything he had waited for for so long: a boy, a companion in arms and play, and at the same time a woman, a saint haloed with light. It was indeed a prodigious miracle that such rare and incompatible qualities should be found together in the same person. And the miracle continued when he heard the Dauphin end the audience with these words: ‘For the time being, Jeanne, I place you in the charge of my cousin, the Duke of Alençon, and my liegeman the Sire de Rais, who will take good care of you.’

From then on, the Dauphin accommodated Jeanne in a wing of the Château de Couldray, with women and a page, Louis de Coûtes, who was scarcely younger than she since she was then only fourteen, to serve her.

In the morning, she attended mass with the Dauphin. The rest of the time she tried her strength and skill with her companions Jean and Gilles, and it was very rare for her not to be victorious with racket, sword, spear or bow.

One day, Alençon said to Rais as he watched her perform acrobatics on a horse at the gallop: ‘I’m not surprised she’s a virgin.