their command. Rank behind rank we could see them
flashing through the shadow into the sunshine, and dashing forward
in compact order, their gaze fixed full upon the Maid in the centre
of the plain, who stood with uplifted sword and fluttering pennon,
a veritable angel of the battle.

But we saw other sights, too; for Lord Talbot was not idle on his
side, but sent forth from other of the bastilles bodies of men to
the aid of the defenders of St. Loup.

The whole plain was filled with surging masses of soldiers, rushing
one upon the other in the fury of the fray.

How would the Maid bear it? She whose tender heart ached at the
thought of human suffering, and whose soul was filled with yearning
sorrow for men struck down in their sins. I pressed up towards her
and saw her pitiful eyes fixed upon a convoy of wounded men, whom
we had sent to rescue from their peril, lying as they did in the
very heart of the plain. The eyes which had been flashing fire a
moment before, were suffused with tears, as the melancholy
procession passed her by.

She turned to her page and said, "Ride quickly into the city, and
bid the priests come forth to hear the confessions and give
absolution to the dying. Lose not a moment! Tell them that souls
are every moment being hurried to their last account. Bid them make
haste and come, and let them give equal care to friend and foe; for
in death all men are equal in the sight of God, and I would not
that any English soldier or prisoner should fall without the
consolations of religion."

Then, having thus done all that she could for the wounded and the
dying, the Maid was once again the resolute soldier. Her keen eyes
swept the plain; she saw with lightning speed where the need was
the greatest, where the peril to the French cause was direst, and
sweeping into the midst of the press, her sword and her banner
flashing in the sunshine, she ever brought succour and victory in
her wake.

No foe could stand before her. Not that she struck blows with her
own hand. There seemed no need for that, and when at the close of
the day I relieved her of her arms, there was no spot of blood upon
her shining blade, though her coat of silver mail had received
stains from the fray. She was like the Angel of Victory, flashing
through the ranks of the combatants. Wherever she appeared, the
flying French turned back to face the foe, and the pursuing English
wavered, paused, and finally broke rank and fled backwards