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"Do you think it was right to go away to the wars without getting your parents' leave? It is written one must honor his father and his mother."
"I have obeyed them in all things but that. And for that I have begged their forgiveness in a letter and gotten it."
"Ah, you asked their pardon? So you knew you were guilty of sin in going without their leave!"
Joan was stirred. Her eyes flashed, and she exclaimed—
"I was commanded of God, and it was right to go! If I had had a hundred fathers and mothers and been a king's daughter to boot I would have gone."
"Did you never ask your Voices if you might tell your parents?"
"They were willing that I should tell them, but I would not for anything have given my parents that pain."
To the minds of the questioners this headstrong conduct savored of pride. That sort of pride would move one to see sacrilegious adorations.
"Did not your Voices call you Daughter of God?"
Joan answered with simplicity, and unsuspiciously—
"Yes; before the siege of Orleans and since, they have several times called me Daughter of God."
Further indications of pride and vanity were sought.
"What horse were you riding when you were captured? Who gave it you?"
"The King."
"You had other things—riches—of the King?"
"For myself I had horses and arms, and money to pay the service in my household."
"Had you not a treasury?"
"Yes. Ten or twelve thousand crowns." Then she said with naivete "It was not a great sum to carry on a war with."
"You have it yet?"
"No. It is the King's money. My brothers hold it for him."
"What were the arms which you left as an offering in the church of St. Denis?"
