ry white and still,
almost like one dying or dead, so that we all held our breath in
fear. In sooth, the faintness was deathlike for awhile, and she did
beckon to her priest to come close to her and receive her
confession, whilst we formed round her in a circle, keeping off all
idle gazers, and standing facing away from her, with bent,
uncovered heads.

Was it possible that her Lord was about to take her from us, her
task yet unfulfilled? It was hard to believe it, and yet we could
not but fear; wherefore our hearts were heavy within us during that
long hour which followed.

And the battle? It was raging still, but the heart of it seemed to
be lacking. The English were crying out that the White Witch was
dead, taunting their foes with being led by a woman, and asking
them where she was gone to now.

Dunois came hurrying up for news of her. The Maid roused herself
and beckoned to him to come to her where she lay, and asked him of
the battle. Dunois told her that the courage of the men seemed
failing, that he thought of sounding the retreat.

For a few moments she lay still; her eyes bent full upon the
blinding blue of the sunny sky. Then she spoke:

"Sound no retreat, my General," she spoke, "but give the men a
breathing space. Let them draw off for a brief moment. Let them eat
and drink and refresh themselves. Tell them that I will come to
them again; and when you and they see my standard floating against
the wall, then know by that token that the place is yours."

Dunois went his way, and soon the sound of the struggle ceased.
There came a strange hush in the heat of the noontide hours. The
Maid lay still a while longer; then raising herself, asked that
water should be brought to cleanse away all stains from her hands
and face and her white armour.

That being done she called to D'Aulon and said to him:

"Take the great standard; plant it again upon the edge of the moat;
and when the silken folds touch the tower wall, call and tell me;
and you, my knights and gentlemen, be ready to follow me to
victory!"

Did we doubt her ability, wounded as she was, to lead us? Not one
whit. We looked to our arms; we stood silently beside her. We
watched D'Aulon move quietly forward to the appointed place, and
unfold the great white banner, which hung down limply in the sultry
heat of the May afternoon. He stood there, and we stood beside the
Maid a great while; she lay upon the heap of cloaks which had been
spread to fo