s custom in great emergencies,
declared that he was very ill and must go to bed immediately; but it was
as easy for her to be strong as it was for him to be weak; so she wrung
from him a reluctant plenipotentiary power; she might go herself and try
what her influence could do. And so she rode forth from Paris, one fine
morning, March 27, 1652,--rode with a few attendants, half in enthusiasm,
half in levity, aiming to become a second Joan of Arc, secure the city,
and save the nation. "I felt perfectly delighted," says the young girl,
"at having to play so extraordinary a part."

The people of Paris had heard of her mission, and cheered her as she went.
The officers of the army, with an escort of five hundred men, met her half
way from Paris. Most of them evidently knew her calibre, were delighted to
see her, and installed her at once over a regular council of war. She
entered into the position with her natural promptness. A certain grave M.
de Rohan undertook to tutor her privately, and met his match. In the
public deliberation, there were some differences of opinion. All agreed
that the army should not pass beyond the Loire: this was Gaston's
suggestion, and nevertheless a good one. Beyond this all was left to
Mademoiselle. Mademoiselle intended to go straight to Orleans. "But the
royal army had reached there already." Mademoiselle did not believe it.
"The citizens would not admit her." Mademoiselle would see about that.
Presently the city government of Orleans sent her a letter, in great
dismay, particularly requesting her to keep her distance. Mademoiselle
immediately ordered her coach, and set out for the city. "I was naturally
resolute," she naively remarks.

Her siege of Orleans is perhaps the most remarkable on record. She was
right in one thing; the royal army had not arrived: but it might appear at
any moment; so the magistrates quietly shut all their gates, and waited to
see what would happen.

Mademoiselle happened. It was eleven in the morning when she reached the
Porte Banniere, and she sat three hours in her state carriage without
seeing a person. With amusing politeness, the governor of the city at last
sent her some confectionery,--agreeing with John Keats, who held that
young women were beings fitter to be presented with sugar-plums than with
one's time. But he took care to explain that the bonbons were not
official, and did not recognize her authority. So she quietly ate them,
and then decided to take