CHAPTER XXXII--THE END OF THIS CHRONICLE
It serves not to speak of my later fortunes, being those of a privateman, nor have I the heart to recall old sorrows. We were wedded whenElliot's grief had in some sort abated, and for one year we were happierthan God has willed that sinful men should long be in this world. Thenthat befell which has befallen many. I may not write of it: suffice itthat God took from me both her and her child. Then, after certain weeksand days of which I am blessed enough to keep little memory, I forsworearms, and served in the household of the Lady Margaret of Scotland, whomarried the Dauphin on an unhappy day. I have known much of Courts andof the learned, I have seen the wicked man exalted, and Brother ThomasNoiroufle in great honour with Charles VII. King of France, and offeringbefore him, with his murderous hands, the blessed sacrifice of the Mass.
The death of the Lady Margaret, slain by lying tongues, and the suddensight of that evil man, Brother Thomas, raised to power and place, droveme from France, and I was certain years with the King's ambassadors atthe Courts of Italy. There I heard how the Holy Inquisition had reversedthat false judgment of the English and false French at Rouen, which mademe some joy. And then, finding old age come upon me, I withdrew to myown country, where I have lived in religion, somewhile in the Abbey ofDunfermline, and this year gone in our cell of Pluscardine, where I nowwrite, and where I hope to die and be buried.
Here ends my tale, in my Latin Chronicle left untold, of how a Scots Monkwas with the Maid both in her victories and recoveries of towns, and eventill her death.
For myself, I now grow old, and the earthly time to come is short, andthere remaineth a rest for all souls Christian. Miscreants I have heardof, men misbelieving and heretics, who deny that the spirit abides afterthe death of the body, for in the long years, say they, the spirit withthe flesh wanes, and at last dies with the bodily death. Wherein theynot only make Holy Church a liar, but are visibly confounded by thistruth which I know and feel, namely, that while my flesh wastes hourlytowards old age, and of many things my memory is weakened, yet of thatday in Chinon I mind me as clearly, and see my love as well, and hear hersweet voice as plain, as if she had but now left the room.
Herein my memory does not fail, nor does love faint, growing strongerwith the years, like the stream as it races to the fall. Wherefore,being more strong than Time, Love shall be more strong than Death. Theriver of my life speeds yearly swifter, the years like months go by, themonths like weeks, the weeks like days. Even so fleet on, O Time, till Irest beside her feet! Nay, never, being young, did I more desire mylove's presence when we were apart than to-day I desire it, the memory ofher filling all my heart as fragrance of flowers fills a room, till itseems as if she were not far away, but near me, as I write of her. And,foolish that I am! I look up as if I might see her by my side. I knownot if this be so with all men, for, indeed, I have asked none, norspoken to any of the matter save in confession. For I have loved thisonce, and no more; wherefore I deem me happier than most, and morecertain of a good end to my love, where the blessed dwell in the Rose ofParadise, beholding the Beatific Vision.
To this end I implore the prayers of all Christian souls who read thisbook, and of all the Saints, and of that Sister of the Saints whom, whileI might, I served in my degree.
VENERABILIS JOHANNA
ORA PRO NOBIS