"I tell you," said he, eagerly, "she was one of the greatest among
women. But all that about her 'voices' was illusion. The priests
suggested it. She had hallucinations. Remember her age when they
began--just thirteen. She was clever and strong; doubtless she was
pretty; certainly she was very courageous. She was only a girl. But she
had a big, brave idea which--the liberation of her country. Pure? Yes.
I am sure she was virtuous. Otherwise the troops would not have
followed and obeyed her as they did. Soldiers are very quick about
those things. They recognize and respect an honest woman. Several men
were in love with her, I think. But she was '_une nature froide_.' The
only thing that moved her was her big, brave idea--to save France. The
Maid was a mother, but not of a mortal child. Her offspring was the
patriotism of France."

The other captain was a man of middle age, from Lyons, the son of an
architect. He was tall and pale and his large brown eyes had the
tranquillity of a devout faith in them. He argued with quiet tenacity
for his convictions.

"You are right to believe in her," said he, "but I think you are
mistaken to deny her voices. They were as real as anything in her life.
You credit her when she says that she was born here, that she went to
Chinon and saw the king, that she delivered Orleans. Why not credit her
when she says she heard God and the saints speaking to her? The proof
of it was in what she did. Have you read the story of her trial? How
clear and steady her answers were! The judges could not shake her. Yet
at any moment she could have saved her life by denying the voices. It
was because she knew, because she was sure, that she could not deny.
Her vision was a part of her real life. She was the mother of French
patriotism--yes. But she was also the daughter of true faith. That was