e the leaders crowded together to see so important
a prisoner. "Thither came soon after," says Monstrelet, "the Duke of
Burgundy from his camp of Coudon, and there assembled the English, the
said Duke and those of the other camps in great numbers, making, one
with the other, great cries and rejoicings on the taking of the Maid:
whom the said Duke went to see in the lodging where she was and spoke
some words to her which I cannot call to mind, though I was there
present; after which the said Duke and the others withdrew for the
night, leaving the Maid in the keeping of Messer John of Luxembourg"--to
whom she had been immediately sold by her first captor. The same night,
Philip, this noble Duke and Prince of France, wrote a letter to convey
the blessed information:

"The great news of this capture should be spread everywhere and brought
to the knowledge of all, that they may see the error of those who could
believe and lend themselves to the pretensions of such a woman. We write
this in the hope of giving you joy, comfort, and consolation, and that
you may thank God our Creator. Pray that it may be His holy will to be
more and more favourable to the enterprises of our royal master and to
the restoration of his sway over all his good and faithful subjects."

This royal master was Henry VI. of England, the baby king, doomed
already to expiate sins that were not his, by the saddest life and
reign. The French historians whimsically but perhaps not unnaturally,
have the air of putting down this baseness on Philip's part, and on that
of his contemporaries in general, to the score of the English, which is
hard measure, seeing that the treachery of a Frenchman could in no way
be attributed to the other nation of which he was the natural enemy, or
at least, antagonist. Very naturally the subsequent proceedings in all
their horror and cruelty are equally put down to the English account,
although Frenchmen took, exulted over as a prisoner, tried and condemned
as an enemy of God and the Church, the spotless creature who was France
incarnate, the very embodiment of her country in all that was purest and
noblest. We shall see with what spontaneous zeal all France, except her
own small party, set to work to accomplish this noble office.

Almost before one could draw breath the University of Paris claimed her
as a proper victim for the Inquisition. Compiegne made no sally for
her deliverance; Charles, no attempt to ransom her. From end