s it done
in some gleam of higher revelation made to her that defeat, too, was a
part of victory, and that not without that bitterness of failure could
the fame of the soldier of Christ be perfected? I have remarked already
that we hear no more of the white armour, inlaid with silver and
dazzling like a mirror, in which she had begun her career; perhaps it
was the remains of that panoply of triumph which she laid out before the
altar of the patron saint of France, all dim now with hard work and
the shadow of defeat. It must have marked a renunciation of one kind
or another, the sacrifice of some hope. She was no longer Jeanne the
invincible, the triumphant, whose very look made the enemy tremble and
flee, and gave double force to every Frenchman's arm. Was she then and
there abdicating, becoming to her own consciousness Jeanne the champion
only, honest and true, but no longer the inspired Maid, the Envoy of
God? To these questions we can give no answer; but the act is pathetic,
and fills the mind with suggestions. She who had carried every force
triumphantly with her, and quenched every opposition, bitter and
determined though that had been, was now a thrall to be dragged
almost by force in an unworthy train. It is evident that she felt the
humiliation to the bottom of her heart. It is not for human nature to
have the triumph alone: the humiliation, the overthrow, the chill and
tragic shadow must follow. Jeanne had entered into that cloud when she
offered the armour, that had been like a star in front of the battle,
at the shrine of St. Denis.(2) Hers was now to be a sadder, a humbler,
perhaps a still nobler part.

It is enough to trace the further movements of the King to perceive
how at every step the iron must have entered deeper and deeper into the
heart of the Maid. He made his arrangements for the government of each
of the towns which had acknowledged him: Beauvais, Compiegne, Senlis,
and the rest. He appointed commissioners for the due regulation of the
truce with Philip of Burgundy. And then the retreating army took its
march southward towards the mild and wealthy country, all fertility and
quiet, where a recreant prince might feel himself safe and amuse himself
at his leisure--by Lagny, by Provins, by Bercy-sur Seine, where he had
been checked before in his retreat and almost forced to the march on
Paris--by Sens, and Montargis: until at last on the 29th of September,
no doubt diminished by the withdrawal of ma