arms, for many had been slain and a few taken,
though the more part had fled into the boulevard of Les Tourelles. And
here, with a joyous face, and the vizor of her helm raised, stood the
Maid, her sword sheathed, waving her banner in the sight of the English
that were on the bridge fort.

Natheless, her joy was but for a moment, and soon was she seated lowly on
the ground, holding in her arms the head of an English knight, sore
wounded, for whom her confessor, Father Pasquerel, was doing the offices
of religion. Tears were running down her cheeks, even as if he had been
one of her own people; and so, comforting and helping the wounded as she
might, she abode till the darkness came, and the captains had made shift
to repair the fortress and had set guards all orderly. And all the river
was dark with boats coming and going, their lanterns glittering on the
stream, and they were laden with food and munitions of war. In one of
these boats did the Maid cross the river, taking with her us of her
company, and speaking to me, above others, in the most gracious manner,
for that I had been the first, with that Spanish gentleman, to pass
within the English palisade. And now my heart was light, though my flesh
was very weary, for that I had done my devoir, and taken the firstfruits
of Elliot's wedding portion. No heavy ransom I put on that knight, Sir
Robert Heron, and it was honourably paid in no long time, though he ill
liked yielding him to one that had not gained his spurs. But it was
fortune of war. So, half in a dream, we reached our house, and there was
the greatest concourse of townsfolk clamouring in the praise of the Maid,
who showed herself to them from the window, and promised that to-morrow
they should take Les Tourelles. That night was Friday, yet, so worn were
we all that the Maid bade us sup, and herself took some meat and a little
wine in her water, though commonly she fasted on Friday. And now we were
about to boun us for bed, and the Maid had risen, and was standing with
her arms passed about the neck of the daughter of the house, a fair lass
and merry, called Charlotte Boucher, who always lay with her (for she had
great joy to be with girls of her own age), when there came the sound of
a dagger-hilt beating at the door. We opened, and there stood a tall
knight, who louted low to the Maid, cap in hand, and she bade him drink
to the taking of Les Tourelles that should be to-morrow.

But he, with the fl