to all who asked
it, to see that the wounded upon both sides were carried into the
city to receive attention and care, and in particular that the
prisoners--amongst whom were several priests--should receive humane
treatment, and escape any sort of insult or reprisal.

These matters occupied her time and thought to the exclusion of any
personal pride or triumph. It was with difficulty that the Generals
could persuade her to ride at their head into the city, to receive
the applause and joyful gratitude of the people; and as soon as she
could without discourtesy extricate herself from the crowd pressing
round to kiss her hands or her feet, or even the horse upon which
she rode, she slipped away to give orders that certain badly
wounded English prisoners were to be carried to the Treasurer's
house, and laid in the spacious guest chamber, which, having been
prepared for her own reception, had been permitted to no one else.
Here she begged of Madame Boucher permission to lodge them, that
she might tend their hurts herself, and assure herself that all was
well with them.

No one could deny the Maid those things she asked, knowing well
that others in her place would have issued commands without
stooping to petition. But with the Maid it was never so. Her gentle
courtesy never deserted her. No association with men, no military
dignity of command, which she could so well assume, ever tarnished
the lustre of her sweet humility. A gentle maiden, full of
tenderness and compassion, she showed herself now. Instead of
resting after the sore strife of the battle, which had exhausted
even strong men, nothing would serve her but that she must herself
dress the wounds of these English prisoners; and so deft was her
touch, and so soft and tender her methods with them, that not a
groan passed the lips of any of them; they only watched her with
wondering eyes of gratitude; and when she had left the room they
looked at each other and asked:

"Who is it? Is it boy, or angel, or what? The voice is as the voice
of a woman, and the touch is as soft; but the dress is the dress of
a man. Who can it be?"

I understood them, for I knew something of the English tongue, and
I saw that they were in great amazement; for all who had seen the
Maid bore her image stamped upon their hearts; and yet it was
impossible for these prisoners of war to believe that the
triumphant, angelic Commander of the Forces could stoop to tend the
hurts of wounded priso