he banner, we are not told; Jeanne most likely herself caught it as it
fell. But at this stroke, more dreadful than her own wound, her strength
failed her, and she crept behind a bush or heap of stones, where she
lay, refusing to quit the place. Some say she managed to slide into the
dry ditch where there was a little shelter, but resisted all attempts
to carry her away, and some add that while she lay there she employed
herself in a vain attempt to throw faggots into the ditch to make it
passable. It is said that she kept calling out to them to persevere, to
go on and Paris would be won. She had promised, they say, to sleep that
night within the conquered city; but this promise comes to us with no
seal of authority. Jeanne knew that it had taken her eight days to free
Orleans, and she could scarcely have promised so sudden a success in
the more formidable achievement. But she was at least determined in her
conviction that perseverance only was needed. She must have lain for
hours on the slope of the outer moat, urging on the troops with such
force as her dauntless voice could give, repeating again and again
that the place could be taken if they but held on. But when night came
Alencon and some other of the captains overcame her resistance, and
there being clearly no further possibility for the moment, succeeded
in setting her upon her horse, and conveyed her back to the camp. While
they rode with her, supporting her on her charger, she did nothing but
repeat "_Quel dommage!_" Oh, what a misfortune, that the siege of Paris
should fail, all for want of constancy and courage. "If they had but
gone on till morning," she cried, "the inhabitants would have known."
It is evident from this that she must have expected a rising within, and
could not yet believe that no such thing was to be looked for. "_Par mon
martin_, the place would have been taken," she said in the hearing one
cannot but feel of the chronicler, who reports so often those homely
words.

Thus Jeanne was led back after the first day's attack. Her wound was not
serious, and she had been repulsed during one of the day's fighting at
Orleans without losing courage. But something had changed her spirit as
well as the spirit of the army she led. There is a curious glimpse given
us into her camp at this point, which indeed comes to us through the
observation of an enemy, yet seems to have in it an unmistakable gleam
of truth. It comes from one of the parties which had