.

I had been close beside the Maid for hours; for I never forgot what
she had spoken about being wounded that day; yet when she fell I
had been parted from her a brief space, by one of those battle
waves too strong for resistance. But now I fought my way to her
side with irresistible fury, though there was such a struggling
press all about her that I had much ado to force my way through it.
But I was known as one of her especial personal attendants, and way
was made for me somehow; yet it was not I who was the first to
render her assistance.

When I arrived, De Gamache was holding her in his arms; someone had
removed her headpiece, and though her face was as white as the
snowy plumes, her eyes were open, and there was a faint brave smile
upon her lips. De Gamache had his horse beside him, his arm slipped
through the reins.

"My brave General," he said, as the Maid looked in his face, "let
me lift you to my saddle and convey you to a place of safety. I
have done you wrong before; but I pray you forgive me, and bear no
malice; for I am yours till death. Never was woman so brave."

"I should be wrong indeed to bear malice against any, my good
friend," spoke the Maid, in her gentle tones, "above all against
one so courteous, so brave."

We lifted her upon the horse. We formed a bodyguard round her. We
drew her out of the thick of the press, for once unresisting; and
we laid her down in a little adjacent vineyard, where the good
Pasquerel came instantly, and knelt beside her offering prayers for
her recovery. But the great arrow had pierced right through her
shoulder, and stood out a handbreadth upon the other side. We had
sent for a surgeon; but we dreaded to think of the pain she must
suffer; must be suffering even now. Her face was white; her brow
was furrowed.

But suddenly, as we stood looking at her in dismay, she sat up,
took firm hold of the cruel barb with her own hands, and drew it
steadily from the wound.

Was ever courage like hers? As the blood came gushing forth,
staining her white armour red, she uttered a little cry and her
lips grew pale. Yet I think the cry was less from pain than to see
the marring of her shining breastplate; and the tears started to
her eyes. Never before had this suffered hurt; the sight of the
envious rent hurt her, I trow, as much as did the smart of her
wound.

The surgeon came hurrying up, and dressed the wound with a pledget
of linen steeped in oil; and the Maid lay ve