ons, and fully
prepared to abandon even that small standing ground, to fly into Spain
or Scotland, and give up the attempt to hold his place as King of
France. Now he was the consecrated King, with the holy oil upon
his brows, and the crown of his ancestors on his head, accepted and
proclaimed, all France stirring to her old allegiance, new conquests
falling into his hands every day, and the richest portion of his kingdom
secure under his sway. To check thus peremptorily the career of the
deliverer who had done so much for him, degrading her from her place,
throwing more than doubt upon her inspiration, falsifying by force
the promises which she had made--promises which had never failed
before,--was a worse and deeper sin on the part of a young man, by right
of his kingly office the very head of knighthood and every chivalrous
undertaking, than it could be on the part of an old and subtle
diplomatist who had never believed in such wild measures, and all
through had clogged the steps and endeavoured to neutralise the mission
of the warrior Maid. It is very clear, however, that between them it was
the King and his chamberlain who made this assault upon Paris so evident
and complete a failure. One day's repulse was nothing in a siege. There
had been one great repulse and several lesser ones at Orleans. Jeanne,
even though weakened by her wound, had sprung up that morning full of
confidence and courage. In no way was the failure to be laid to her
charge.

But this could never, perhaps, have been explained to the whole body
of the army, who had believed her word without a doubt and taken her
success for granted. If they had been wavering before, which seems
possible--for they must have been, to a considerable extent, new levies,
the campaigners of the Loire having accomplished their period of feudal
service,--this sudden downfall must have strengthened every doubt and
damped every enthusiasm. The Maid of whom such wonderful tales had been
told, she who had been the angel of triumph, the irresistible, before
whom the English fled, and the very walls fell down--was she after
all only a sorceress, as the others called her, a creature whose
incantations had failed after the flash of momentary success? Such
impressions are too apt to come like clouds over every popular
enthusiasm, quenching the light and chilling the heart.

Jeanne was thus dragged back to St. Denis against her will and every
instinct of her being, and there en