ried. She would seem to have stood there in her place
with her banner, a rallying-point and centre in the midst of all the
confusion of the fight, taking this for her part in it, and though she
is always in the thick of the combat, never, so far as we are told,
striking a blow, exposed to all the instruments of war, but injured
by none. The effect of her mere attitude, the steadiness of her stand,
under the terrible rain of stone bullets and dreadful arrows, must of
itself have been indescribable.

In the midst of the fiery struggle, there is almost a comic point in
her watch over Alencon, for whose safety she had pledged herself, now
dragging him from a dangerous spot with a cry of warning, now pushing
him forward with an encouraging word. On the first of these occasions
a gentleman of Anjou, M. de Lude, who took his place in the front was
killed, which seems hard upon the poor gentleman, who was probably quite
as well worth caring for as Alencon. "_Avant, gentil duc_," she cried at
another moment, "forward! Are you afraid? you know I promised your wife
to bring you safe home." Thus her voice keeps ringing through the din,
her white armour gleams. "_Sus! Sus!_" the bold cry is almost audible,
sibilant, whistling amid the whistling of the arrows.

Suffolk, the English Bayard, the most chivalrous of knights, was at last
forced to yield. One story tells us that he would give up his sword only
to Jeanne herself,(1) but there is a more authentic description of his
selection of one youth among his assailants whom the quick perceptions
of the leader had singled out. "Are you noble?" Suffolk asks in
the brevity of such a crisis. "Yes; Guillame Regnault, gentleman of
Auvergne." "Are you a knight?" "Not yet." The victor put a knee to the
ground before his captive, the vanquished touched him lightly on the
shoulder with the sword which he then gave over to him. Suffolk was
always the finest gentleman, the most perfect gentle knight of his time.

"Now let us go and see the English of Meung," cried Jeanne, unwearying,
as soon as this victory was assured. That place fell easily; it
is called the bridge of Meung, in the Chronicle, without further
description, therefore presumably the fortress was not attacked--and
they proceeded onward to Beaugency. These towns still shine over the
plain, along the line of the Loire, visible as far as the eye will
carry over the long levels, the great stream linking one to another like
pearls on a