carried out of the
press. Although she suffered acutely, she had the nerve to draw the
arrow from the wound. She refused to have the wound 'charmed,' as some
of those standing around her suggested, saying she would sooner die
than do anything that might be displeasing in the sight of Heaven. A
compress, steeped in oil, was then applied, and it staunched the
bleeding. She was faint and unnerved, and, as she seemed to feel her
death was near, made her confession to her priest.

Still the Tournelles held out in spite of these repeated attacks, and
Dunois, as the shadows lengthened, was on the point of calling back
his forces and sounding the retreat. Joan, in the meanwhile, had been
withdrawn from the fighting, and placed in a meadow at some distance
from the carnage; but when she heard that the troops were about to be
recalled from their attack on the Tournelles, she seemed to forget
her wound, and, making her way to Dunois, implored him not to give up
the fight. She assured him that she was certain they would even yet be
victorious. In a few stirring sentences she rallied the men to fresh
efforts, and told them that now or never would they conquer; the
English, she declared, could not hold out much longer. Mounting her
horse, and with flag unfurled, she again led the van; to those near
her she said, 'Watch my standard; when it reaches the walls the place
will be ours.'

The struggle that ensued was fierce and decisive. Inspired by the
valour of Joan, the French, who appeared as fresh as before her wound,
stormed the bastions and towers of the Tournelles with tremendous
energy. Reinforcements had meanwhile arrived from the town, and these
attacked the Tournelles in the rear. Passing over the broken arches of
the bridge by means of ladders thrown across the masonry, the first
man to reach the other bank was a knight of Rhodes, Nicolas de
Giresme. Attacked from two sides, the English still held the
Tournelles with bull-dog tenacity; but the sight of the witch and
sorceress, as they considered Joan, and who they thought had met with
a mortal hurt, leading the soldiers with unabated courage, caused a
panic to spread through their ranks; and when a sudden shout of
victory proclaimed that the white and golden banner had at length
struck the walls of the fortress, the doom of the Tournelles had
arrived.

Clear above the din of battle rang out the triumphant voice of the
Maid: 'The victory is ours!' she cried.

Seeing the d