. She was of
herself too remarkable a figure to be concealed amid the group of armed
men who rode with her, encircling her, defending the rear of the flying
party. Over her armour she wore a crimson tunic, or according to some
authorities a short cloak, of gorgeous material embroidered with gold,
and though by this time the twilight must have afforded a partial
shelter, yet the knowledge that she was there gave keenness to every
eye. Behind, the scattered Burgundians had rallied and begun to pursue,
while the armour and spears of the English glittered in front between
the little party and the barrier which was blocked by a terrified crowd
of fugitives. Even then a party of horsemen might have cut their way
through; but at the moment when Jeanne and her followers drew near, the
barrier was sharply closed and the wild, confused, and fighting crowd,
treading each other down, struggling for life, were forced back upon the
English lances. Thus the retreating band riding hard along the raised
road, in order and unbroken, found the path suddenly barred by the
forces of the enemy, the fugitives of their own army, and the closed
gates of the town.

An attempt was then made by the Maid and her companions to turn towards
the western gate where there still might have been a chance of safety;
but by this time the smaller figure among all those steel-clad men, and
the waving mantle, must have been distinguished through the dusk and the
dust. There was a wild rush of combat and confusion, and in a moment she
was surrounded, seized, her horse and her person, notwithstanding all
resistance. With cries of "Rendez vous," and many an evil name, fierce
faces and threatening weapons closed round her. One of her assailants--a
Burgundian knight, a Picard archer, the accounts differ--caught her
by her mantle and dragged her from her horse; no Englishman let us be
thankful, though no doubt all were equally eager and ready. Into the
midst of that shouting mass of men, in the blinding cloud of dust,
in the darkening of the night, the Maid of France disappeared for one
terrible moment, and was lost to view. And then, and not till then, came
a clamour of bells into the night, and all the steeples of Compiegne
trembled with the call to arms, a sally to save the deliverer. Was it
treachery? Was it only a perception, too late, of the danger? There are
not wanting voices to say that a prompt sally might have saved Jeanne,
and that it was quite within th