Their labor was nearly lost; her
enemies became furious. Persuading was of no use; she refused to go back
from any thing she had said or done. Her instant death was threatened if
she continued obstinate, but if she would recant she was promised
deliverance from the English. "I will sign," she said at last. The
cardinal drew a paper from his sleeve with a short denial. She put her
mark to it. They kept their promise of mercy by passing this sentence
upon her: "Joan, we condemn you, through our grace and moderation, to
pass the rest of your days in prison, to eat the bread of grief and
drink the water of anguish, and to bewail your sins."
When she went back to prison there was published through Rouen, not the
short denial she had signed, but one six pages long.
Joan was taken back to the prison from whence she came. The next few
days were the darkest and saddest of all her life, yet they were the
darkest before the dawn. She had, in the paper which she had signed,
promised to wear a woman's dress again, and she did so. Her enemies had
now a sure hold on her. They could make her break her own oath. In the
night her woman's dress was taken away, and man's clothes put in their
place. She had no choice in the morning what to do.
As soon as it was day Canchon and the rest made haste to the prison to
see the success of their plot. Canchon laughed, and said, "She is
taken." No more hope for her on earth; no friend with her, save that in
the fiery furnace was "One like unto the Son of God.
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