His favorite, La Tremoille, and his chancellor, the Archbishop of Rheims, opposed Joan's entreaties with all the objections that could be devised under the inspiration of their ill will: there were neither troops nor money in hand for so great a journey; and council after council was held for the purpose of doing nothing.
Joan, in her impatience, went one day to Loches, without previous notice, and tapped softly at the door of the king's privy chamber (chambre de re- trait).

He bade her enter.

She fell upon her knees, saying, "Gentle _dauphin_, hold not so many and such long councils, but rather come to Rheims, and there assume your crown; I am much pricked to take you thither." "Joan," said the Bishop of Castres, Christopher d'Harcourt, the king's confessor, "cannot you tell the king what pricketh you ?" "Ah! I see," replied Joan, with some embarrassment: "well, I will tell you.

I had set me to prayer, according to my wont, and I was making complaint for that you would not believe what I said; then the voice came and said unto me, 'Go, go, my daughter; I will be a help to thee; go.' When this voice comes to me, I feel marvellously rejoiced; I would that it might endure forever." She was eager and overcome.
Joan and her voices were not alone in urging the king to shake off his doubts and his indolence.

In church, and court, and army, allies were not wanting to the pious and valiant maid.