rank, in the rear. We of her household rode immediately in
her wake, ready to protect her, if need be, from the too great pressure
of the crowd. And so we crossed the hastily-repaired bridge, and entered
by the Bride Gate--or St. Catherine's gate, as it was equally called;
for a figure of St. Catherine stands carved in a niche above the porch,
and I saw the Maid glance upwards at it as she passed through, a smile
upon her lips.

Shall I ever forget the thunder of applause which fell upon our
ears as we passed into the city through the bridge? It was like the
"sound of many waters"--deafening in volume and intensity. And was
it wonder? Had not something very like a miracle been wrought? For
had not rumours reached the city many times that day of the death
of the Deliverer in the hour of victory? None well knew what to
believe till they saw her in their midst, and then the cry which
rent the heavens was such as methinks is heard but once in a
lifetime.

I know not who first spoke the words; but once spoken, they were
caught up by ten thousand lips, and the blazing heavens echoed them
back in great waves of rolling sound:

"THE MAID OF ORLEANS! THE MAID OF ORLEANS! Welcome, honour, glory,
praise to THE MAID OF ORLEANS!"

The people were well-nigh mad with joy; they rushed upon her to
kiss her hands, her knees, the folds of her banner, the neck or the
flanks of her horse. In the red glare of the hundred bonfires the
whiteness of her armour seemed to take a new lustre. The rent upon
the shoulder could be plainly seen, showing where the arrow had
torn its way. Women sobbed aloud as they looked; men cursed the
hand which had shot the bolt; all joined in frantic cheers of joy
to see her riding alone, erect and smiling, though with a dreamy
stillness of countenance which physical lassitude in part accounted
for.

"I thank you, my friends, I thank you," she kept saying, as though
no other words would come, save when now and again she would add,
"But to God must you give your thanks and blessings. It is He who
has delivered you."

It was not far to the house of the Treasurer, and there in the
threshold stood the little Charlotte, a great wreath of bay and
laurel in her tiny hands. She was lifted up in her father's strong
arms, and ere the Maid was able to dismount from her horse the
little one had placed the triumphal wreath upon her fair head.

O, what a shout arose! It was like the mighty burst of some great
thunde