to comprehend
what could have induced experienced military leaders to meditate delay
instead of pursuing the advantage already gained; yet they shut the
gates next morning to keep Jeanne in, and her host, Milet, begged her to
remain quietly to sup with him. "Keep your supper," she said; "I shall
bring back some _Goddems_ to eat it with us." The national oath, which
Figaro was to consider sufficient for all conversation in English, was
manifestly familiar and characteristic three centuries before his time.

In spite of the orders of their chiefs the men-at-arms followed their
idol, forced the gates, and charged upon the English fort. As the sun
rose over the Loire the desperate struggle began, the English defending
themselves with determination and driving back column after column till
the dead and wounded lay in heaps beneath the walls of Les Tournelles.
Sword in hand, La Pucelle placed a ladder against the wall, and as she
mounted an arrow pierced her shoulder. As she fell fainting to the earth
the English sallied forth to capture her, but she was rescued by the
Sire de Gamaches, who had been one of those who refused to serve as a
captain in an army dominated by "a mere girl, who may have been God
knows what." Though sceptical of her mission, he was a gallant soldier,
and succeeded in removing the wounded heroine to a place of safety.

If the pain of the wound and the sight of her own blood had unnerved
Jeanne, the spectacle of their wounded deliverer completely demoralized
her soldiers. They pressed about her offering to dress the wound, to
remove the arrow, to charm away the pain by magic incantations. She
would have none of the works of Satan for her healing. Praying to her
saints for strength, she rallied her courage, pulled the arrow out with
her own hands, and had the wound dressed with oil. It was nearly dark,
and the captains were for retiring, but Jeanne's spirits inspired her to
continue the fight. The Sire de Daulon, her knight, rushed back to the
fosse of the fort to recover the sacred banner, dropped there in the
confusion of the fray. As he raised it to the breeze its folds were
opened, and the disheartened French soldiers charged again. "If my
banner but touch the walls," said Jeanne, "the fort will fall." Wounded
as she was, she mounted her horse and rode toward the fort. Panic seized
the English at what seemed to them a miraculous restoration to life of
one whom they thought dead, and their excited ima