d floating high, even while
smoke enveloped the army in dense clouds, and missiles fell like rain.
She was hurt, but refused to retire, and the battle-light flamed in her
eyes as her warrior-spirit thrilled to the deeds of the moment.

"I will take Paris now or never!" she cried, and at last she had to be
carried away by force, still insisting that the city would be theirs in
the morning, which would have been so, but for the treachery of him for
whom Jeanne had given her young strength in such consecrated service.
The Maid was defeated by her own King, who because of political reasons
declared the campaign ended, and made a truce with the English in which
he agreed to leave Paris unmolested and go back again to the Loire.

History offers no more pathetic and yet inspiring sight than Jeanne,
broken by the terrible news, still sure that victory would be hers if
but allowed to follow her voices--yet checkmated by the royal pawn whose
pleasure it was to disband the noble army of heroes who had fought so
nobly for the cause of France.

When Jeanne saw the strength of the Dauphin's purpose, she hung up her
armour and begged the King to now dismiss her from the army, and allow
her to go home, but this he refused to do. The truce he had made did not
embrace all France, and he would have need of her inspiring presence and
her valuable counsel--in truth it seemed that he and his chief
counsellors were afraid of allowing her out of their sight, for fear of
what she might achieve without their knowledge.

For some eight months longer, in accord with his desire, Jeanne, still
sure of her divine mission to work for France, loyally drifted from
place to place with the King and his counsellors, heart-sick and
homesick, occupying her many leisure hours with planning vast imaginary
sieges and campaigns.

At last, on the twenty-fourth of May, 1430, with a handful of men, she
was allowed to throw herself into Compiegne, which was being besieged by
the Burgundians, and there after bravely fighting and rallying her men
for a third attack, the English came up behind and fell upon their rear,
and the fleeing men streamed into the boulevard, while last of all came
the Maid, doing deeds of valour beyond the nature of woman, so it is
said, and for the last time, as never again should Jeanne bear arms. Her
men had fled. She was separated from her people; and surrounded, but
still defiant, was seized by her cape, dragged from her horse, and bo