e an excuse for doing nothing. The pause
which wearied them all out, both captains and soldiers, at last became
more than flesh and blood could bear.

Jeanne once more was driven to take the initiative. Already on one
occasion she had forced the hand of the lingering Court, and resumed
the campaign of her own accord, an impatient movement which had been
perfectly successful. No doubt again the army itself was becoming
demoralised, and showing symptoms of falling to pieces. One day she sent
for Alencon in haste during the absence of the ambassadors at Arras.
"_Beau duc_," she cried, "prepare your troops and the other captains.
_En mon Dieu, par mon martin_,(3) I will see Paris nearer than I have
yet seen it." She had seen the towers from afar as she wandered over the
country in Charles's lingering train. Her sudden resolution struck like
fire upon the impatient band. They set out at once, Alencon and the Maid
at the head of their division of the army, and all rejoiced to get to
horse again, to push their way through every obstacle. They started on
the 23d August, nearly a month after the departure from Rheims, a month
entirely lost, though full of events, lost without remedy so far as
Paris was concerned. At Senlis they made a pause, perhaps to await the
King, who, it was hoped, would have been constrained to follow; then
carrying with them all the forces that could be spared from that town,
they spurred on to St. Denis where they arrived on the 27th: St. Denis,
the other sacred town of France, the place of the tomb, as Rheims was
the place of the crown.

The royalty of France was Jeanne's passion. I do not say the King, which
might be capable of malinterpretation, but the kings, the monarchy, the
anointed of the Lord, by whom France was represented, embodied and
made into a living thing. She had loved Rheims, its associations,
its triumphs, the rejoicing of its citizens. These had been the
accompaniments of her own highest victory. She came to St. Denis in a
different mood, her heart hot with disappointment and the thwarting of
all her plans. From whatever cause it might spring, it was clear that
she was no longer buoyed up by that certainty which only a little while
before had carried her through every danger and over every obstacle. But
to have reached St. Denis at least was something. It was a place doubly
sacred, consecrated to that royal House for which she would so willingly
have given her life. And at last she w