If it was a pious cat, a moral cat, all right, never mind about the other capacities, they were of no consequence. Joan was as sweetly self-possessed and tranquil before this grim tribunal, with its robed celebrities, its solemn state and imposing ceremonials, as if she were but a spectator and not herself on trial. As I have told you, she could not read. And yet she showed no wear, no weariness, and but seldom let fly her temper. As a rule she put her day through calm, alert, patient, fencing with those veteran masters of scholarly sword-play and coming out always without a scratch.
None doubts it.
But Joan was not disturbed. You could see a light of admiration sweep the house from face to face like a ray from the sun. Well, certainly you ought to know. I knew there was a chuckle back of her eyes, for all their innocence. God has not willed that any shall believe in you without a sign.