Book One Charlotte Redhead Chapter 3

Looking down she saw John's eyes blinking up at her through their lashes. His chest showed a red-brown V in the open neck of his sweater. He had been quiet a long time. His voice came up out of his quietness, sudden and queer.

"Keep your head like that one minute--looking down. I want your eyelids.... Now I know."

"What?"

"What you're like. You're like Jeanne d'Arc.... There's a picture--the photo of a stone head, I think--in a helmet, looking down, with big drooped eyelids. If it isn't Jeanne it ought to be. Anyhow it's you.... That's what's been bothering me. I thought it was just because you had black hair bobbed like a fifteen century page. But it isn't that. It's her forehead and her blunt nose, and her innocent, heroic chin. And the thick, beautiful mouth.... And the look--as if she could see behind her eyelids--dreadful things going to happen to her. All the butchery."

"I don't see any dreadful things going to happen to me."

"No. Her sight was second sight; and your sight is memory. You never forget things.... I shall call you Jeanne. You ought to wear armour and a helmet." His voice ceased and began again. "What are you thinking of?"

"I don't know. I don't think much, ever."

She was wondering what he would think if he knew.