ay was lost, the English now attempted to escape
destruction by swimming the river; others threw themselves on a
bridge, which, however, having been set on fire by the French, only
caused those who hoped to cross to fall either into the flames or into
the river below.

Glansdale, the English leader, who had grossly insulted Joan but a few
days before, was among those who were drowning in the Loire. Seeing
his peril, Joan of Arc attempted to save him, but Glansdale was swept,
before her aid could reach him, down the stream, never more to return
to his own land again, as Joan had prophesied.

Five hundred English perished either in the Tournelles or were drowned
in attempting to escape; the rest were made prisoners by the French.

Darkness had now fallen, and although Joan had been taking part in the
battle for more than a dozen hours, and had besides been grievously
hurt, she would not leave the field till late in the night, in case
the English at the Bastille of Saint Laurent should be inclined to
avenge the fall of the Tournelles, and the victory over their
comrades. But for that day, at all events, the English had had enough
of fighting: 'ils n'en avaient une vouloir' for more, as the old
chronicler quaintly expresses himself.

Riding back across the bridge which the citizens had in the meanwhile
partially restored, Joan re-entered the city which her splendid
courage had rescued from the English. 'God knows,' writes Perceval de
Cagny, 'with what joy she was received'; and our English historian of
those days, Hall, has left the following graphic account of the joy
that went out from the people of Orleans to their saviour:--

'After the siege was thus broken up, to tell you what triumphs were
made in the city of Orleans, what wood was spent in fire, what wine
was drunk in houses, what songs were sung in the streets, what melody
was made in taverns, what rounds were danced in large and broad
places, what lights were set up in the churches, what anthems were
sung in chapels, and what joy was showed in every place--it were a
long work, and yet no necessary cause. For they did as we in like case
would have done; and we, being in like estate, would have done as they
did.'

All that day Joan of Arc had eaten nothing, and her strength must have
been more than mortal to have sustained the heat, fatigue, and, above
all, the anguish of her wound. At length she was able to find some
repose with her kind hosts, and, after ta