, it was not to be.
She had been cheated out of her first chance to strike a heavy blow for
her country.

In camp that night she slept in her armor on the ground. It was a cold
night, and she was nearly as stiff as her armor itself when we resumed
the march in the morning, for iron is not good material for a blanket.
However, her joy in being now so far on her way to the theater of her
mission was fire enough to warm her, and it soon did it.

Her enthusiasm and impatience rose higher and higher with every mile of
progress; but at last we reached Olivet, and down it went, and
indignation took its place. For she saw the trick that had been played
upon her--the river lay between us and Orleans.

She was for attacking one of the three bastilles that were on our side of
the river and forcing access to the bridge which it guarded (a project
which, if successful, would raise the siege instantly), but the
long-ingrained fear of the English came upon her generals and they
implored her not to make the attempt. The soldiers wanted to attack, but
had to suffer disappointment. So we moved on and came to a halt at a
point opposite Checy, six miles above Orleans.

Dunois, Bastard of Orleans, with a body of knights and citizens, came up
from the city to welcome Joan. Joan was still burning with resentment
over the trick that had been put upon her, and was not in the mood for
soft speeches, even to reversed military idols of her childhood. She
said:

"Are you the bastard?"

"Yes, I am he, and am right glad of your coming."

"And did you advise that I be brought by this side of the river instead
of straight to Talbot and the English?"

Her high manner abashed him, and he was not able to answer with anything
like a confident promptness, but with many hesitations and partial
excuses he managed to get out the confession that for what he and the
council had regarded as imperative military reasons they so advised.

"In God's name," said Joan, "my Lord's counsel is safer and wiser than
yours. You thought to deceive me, but you have deceived yourselves, for I
bring you the best help that ever knight or city had; for it is God's
help, not sent for love of me, but by God's pleasure. At the prayer of
St. Louis and St. Charlemagne He has had pity on Orleans, and will not
suffer the enemy to have both the Duke of Orleans and his city. The
provisions to save the starving people are here, the boats are below the
city, the wind is contrary,