ousy of his
counsellors, and the action of double-faced Burgundy. In the afternoon
Jeanne, while sounding the depth of the fosse with her lance,[94] was
wounded by an arrow in the thigh. She remained till late evening, when
she was carried away to St. Denis at whose shrine she hung up her
arms--her mysterious sword from St. Catherine de Fierbois and her
banner of pure white, emblazoned with the fleur-de-lys and the figure
of the Saviour, with the device "Jesu Maria."

[Footnote 94: An equestrian statue in bronze stands at the south end
of the Rue des Pyramides, a few hundred yards from the spot where the
Maid fell before the Porte St Honore.]

Six months later, while Charles was sunk in sloth at the chateau of
Sully, Jeanne was captured by the Burgundians at the siege of
Compiegne, and her enemies closed on her like bloodhounds. The
university of Paris and the Inquisition wrangled for her body, but
English gold bought her from her Burgundian captors and sent her to a
martyr's death at Rouen. Those who would read the sad record of her
trial may do so in the pages of Mr. Douglas Murray's translation of
the minutes of the evidence, and may assist in imagination at the
eighteen days' forensic baiting of the hapless child (she was but
nineteen years of age), whose lucid simplicity broke through the
subtle web of theological chicanery which was spun to entrap her by
the most cunning of the Sorbonne doctors.

"The English burnt her," says a Venetian merchant, "thinking that
fortune would turn in their favour, but may it please Christ the Lord
that the contrary befall them!" And so in truth it happened. Disaster
after disaster wrecked the English cause; the Duke of Bedford died,
Philip of Burgundy and Charles were reconciled, and Queen Isabella
went to a dishonoured grave. The English were driven out of Paris, and
in 1453, of all the "large and ample empery" of France, won at the
cost of a hundred years of bloodshed and cruel devastation, a little
strip of land at Calais and Guines alone remained to the English
crown. Charles, who with despicable cowardice had suffered the heroic
Maid to be done to death by the English without a thought of
intervention, was moved to call for a tardy reparation of the
atrocious injustice at Rouen; and a quarter of a century after the Te
Deum sung in Notre Dame at Paris for her capture, another, a very
different scene, was witnessed in the cathedral. "The case for her
rehabilitation," says Mr