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Updated: May 29, 2025
JOHANNA. No, sire, not so! the crimson on my cheek Is not the blush of bashful modesty. Naught have I for this noble lady's ear Which in this presence I may not proclaim. The choice of these brave knights much honors me, But I did not forsake my shepherd-walks, To chase vain worldly splendor, nor array My tender frame in panoply of war, To twine the bridal garland in my hair.
Comes holy concord from the depths below? Say, what is holy, innocent, and good, If not to combat for our fatherland? Since when hath nature been so self-opposed That heaven forsakes the just and righteous cause, While hell protects it? If my words are true, Whence could I draw them but from heaven above? Who ever sought me in my shepherd-walks, To teach the humble maid affairs of state?
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